Hammered Down
by Tomas the Betrayer
Summary: A forbidden encounter, a chance conversation. Rukia Kuchiki is about to discover what some people are willing to do for the good of Soul Society.
1. Kuchiki: The Nail That Sticks Up

"Bun?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Would you care for a bun?"

"Oh… yes, thank you."

She took the proffered rice pastry. Partly out of politeness, and mostly to keep from having to make conversation, she took a small nibble.

Her nose wrinkled. Swallowing was an effort. Looking back at her server, she called upon her training and resolutely forced herself to lie.

"That's very good."

"No, it isn't," the young student smiled sadly. "But that's the point." And then she drifted off.

Rukia watched her go.

The black-robed shinigami shifted her legs into a more comfortable position. Before her there fluttered a cloud of serious-faced red and white butterflies. They talked to one another in grave, earnest voices, nodding approvingly at their companions' words before hastily interrupting to showcase their own thoughts and feelings. That was the way of students.

For her part, Rukia kept silent. And watched.

Only a year ago, this had been her world. The shinigami academy. Garbed like all the rest in identical uwagi and hakama, the tiny orphan from the outer reaches of Rukongai had studied and trained, discussed and learned. She was taught to respect her superiors. And obey her teachers. The skills they were striving to imbue in her might mean the difference between survival and slaughter. This was not unlike living with her friends in the ghetto. Except here, Rukia was not in charge. Not by a long shot.

There was always somebody to salute in the academy, an authority figure whom courtesy demanded you bow towards and greet courteously. Rukia wished she could tell these devoted future comrades that things would change once they became shinigami. But that too would have been a lie. In the structured world of the afterlife called Soul Society, being dead did not stop you from being polite.

Her dark violet eyes travelled the room. Even from this seat in the corner, she could still see that hers would not be the only black robe in attendance at this meeting. In spite of being what you might call an underground event, word of mouth still applied. She herself had overheard the topic by casually eavesdropping on two members of the Eighth division, whose squad always seemed to be on top of the local gossip in Seireitei. At least three other fully fledged death gods were in attendance. It was hard to tell, considering how mobbed they were by the white and blue uniforms of the first grade students. Any offending red hakama who dared to approach were firmly blocked from reaching the current idols.

The shinigami did nothing to hinder this. They were not here to socialize. Their presence undoubtedly ran along the same lines as her own: they were off duty, and no one had told them they couldn't come. Granted, Rukia had not specifically inquired about attending. Unlike at the academy, asking questions was frowned upon in the noble Kuchiki household. She was expected to listen, behave, and above all, obey. So it wasn't that dissimilar from her student days.

Except at the academy, she didn't fear for her life every time she saw the headmaster, as was the case whenever her new brother deigned to notice her. Thankfully, this was not very often. Mostly Rukia Kuchiki, as she had now come to know herself, was left alone for the most part.

Perhaps it was this overwhelming isolation that contributed to her current position. Among all the shinigami present, Rukia sat by herself. Oh, a few people had tried to make conversation, to be sure. And it was not that she had met their friendly overtures with rudeness either. She just hadn't followed up on the attempts at conversation. Introduction, exchange of courtesies, followed by uncomfortable silence which she did not break and they were uncertain whether or not they could. A few had drawn back after just hearing her last name. Word had spread. This one was not to be approached.

The tiny noblewoman dropped her eyes to her lap, thinking. Why am I here, if not to talk with anyone? Was it just to get away for a few hours? Escape the echoing, empty manse that had become her home at the cost of her freedom? Here, at least, there was conversation, and life. So then why not join in? It had only been one year since her expedited graduation. Had the Kuchiki beaten her into submission this quickly, with their rules and reprimands and stern admonitions about how she must bear herself as a member of their household? Briefly Rukia wondered if her honored brother Byakuya had gone through this same experience in his youth. Had he ever been carefree once, spirited and happy? Hard to imagine now. The man was cold as ice, unapproachable, untouchable.

Rukia glanced up, and noticed several people hastily avert their eyes.

_I'm learning, nii-sama_, she thought. _Watch how fast I go_.

She closed her eyes bitterly. This wasn't helping. She didn't recognize anyone here. No one was forcing her into isolation now, this was entirely her doing. That made it all the more shameful. I've got to get out of here, Rukia decided. I can't take this tonight, I need to get away to think.

It was just as she had decided on a course of action that the conversations in the room came to an abrupt halt. Rukia glanced up sharply. It seemed her chance to escape had passed. The speaker had arrived.

At the front of the room, a figure was emerging from one of the side doors, followed by several students pushing carts. The contents of these implements made little sense to her. At first glance, they seemed to be planks nailed flat together. Nothing really to see. And in truth, she was more engrossed by the appearance of the black-garbed soul at their head.

He was fairly short, and rather broad. Dark hair was kept shoulder length and oddly parted down the middle. His features were round and soft, with deep brown eyes that gave him a very expressive air. Had she met him on the street, Rukia was willing to admit that she would not have looked at this man very closely. Unremarkable might be the best word. But there were two things that distinguished his person.

The first was the reiatsu which marked him as a shinigami. This is what truly set people apart in the afterlife. Since infancy, Rukia had plowed through the days here surrounded by individuals who did not possess even a grain of soul intensity. That was the norm. The vast majority of the dead were not endowed with power, so those who were tended to stand out. Such a manifestation of otherworldly strength would inevitably lead that individual to the doors of the Seireitei, where they could make a bid to escape the districts of Rukongai and seek a better life. Or death. Rukia's existence in the living world had ended in infancy, or so she had guessed. Numerous others she met spoke of living full lives in their previous forms, beset by problems such as disease, starvation, and advanced age, along with the pleasantries of food, love, and hope. They had been told before arriving that this plane would treat them better than the old. Rukia had fled from the area of Soul Society they now inhabited to reside in the Seireitei. If there was a worse place than the one where she grew up, she did not want to see it.

Spirit intensity was nothing exceptional here. The second thing to catch her attention was the way this shinigami was dressed. The standard robes for their profession were not in evidence. Instead he was attired in clothes that looked very… well, _tight_ might be the word. They did not flow and move in the manner of her own apparel. His pants were uniformly narrow through the legs, almost seeming to cling to them. The obi around his waist was ridiculously thin, like rope; you would need the fingers of a mouse to tie it properly, she surmised. Except, it didn't look to _be_ tied. More like hooked through a metal ring at the front. And lastly, there was the haori. This jacket seemed quite stiff in appearance. At least the two sides overlapped in front. But after that things just got weird. The fringe of the coat went _over_ the hem of his pants slightly. And down the front there were small brass knobs.

Perplexed murmurs came from the crowd, and Kuchiki shared their consternation. Was this a new division uniform? How could he even move in it? At least they got the color right.

The host of this evening's discussion turned to face his audience, and bowed.

"Good evening. I am Yoshi Hitsujikai, ninth seat in the Seventh division. Welcome all to this meeting. Please be seated."

The students peered around uncertainly. There were no cushions to rest on. Sitting seiza was no big deal to them, but generally for these events the host would provide something to keep those attending from experiencing muscle cramps. After all, this sort of thing could go on for hours. Everybody wanted to have their say.

An attendant came up to Hitsujikai bearing one of the odd wooden planks. He proceeded to hold it aloft so all could see. Then he took a firm grip on a slightly protruding section, and with a slow, purposeful motion, pulled downward. Before the astonished eyes of the crowd, the flat implement unfolded, settling into what appeared to be a four-legged stool with a back. Yoshi then placed this contraption on the floor, and took a seat on it. As it became clear that this new oddity was clearly holding his weight, a collective rumble of wonder filled the room. More of the attendants began to distribute these new marvels, and the eager young death-gods-in-training began to puzzle over the proper workings.

Then a hush fell over the proceedings. Glancing over, Rukia could see that the other shinigami had been approached with the collapsing seats. Two of them glanced over the heads of their clustered fans towards the third. This one, who seemed to be an authority figure, stared hard at the girl who was offering him the chair. Everyone in the room now had their eyes locked on this decisive showdown.

The shinigami reached down and accepted the proffered object. He proceeded to collapse it as they had been shown, and lowered himself down to sit, crossing his arms decisively.

At this the dam burst. Everyone, especially the two death gods, began to follow suit. Once they had figured out the proper handling of their seats and finished explaining it to their comrades, the students then fell to arranging themselves in the neat rows that they were all accustomed to sitting in. There seemed to be no new method for that.

It was while this was going on that a young man approached Rukia with the new sitting device.

He held it out to her invitingly, and she tensed.

There was no one here to see, or pass judgment. But still, she had been educated long enough to know what would be expected of her in this situation.

Still sitting seiza in the corner, Rukia Kuchiki directed her attention upward and inclined her head in dismissal.

"No, thank you."

He nodded, and withdrew.

A few minutes later, the meeting began.

"Before we begin, I'd like to thank you all for attending this discussion, especially my comrades from the Third and Twelfth divisions." Yoshi craned his head over the small sea of students and gesticulated politely. The intended targets repeated his gesture. "I assume you all have some idea why I arranged for this event. But even if you do not, I would like to start off by asking one simple question. That being, did everyone receive a bun?"

There were several nods and calls of "Yes."

"So then," Yoshi leaned back in his chair. "What did you all think of them?"

Now there was some marked agitation in the room. No one spoke. Suddenly Rukia did not feel quite so alone. Once again, numerous necks twisted to regard the black-robed observers sitting in the back of the room. They were looking for guidance here. Just how did you tell a shinigami host that his refreshments sucked?

The ranking death god took his cue.

"They were poor, Hitsujikai-san."

Nearly a hundred heads snapped around to witness the outcome of this statement.

In response, Yoshi smiled.

"Thank you, sir. That summed up their qualities perfectly." He leaned forward intensely then. "I know many of you have become accustomed to the superior cuisine available to those residing in the Seireitei. And after eating like a shinigami, I can understand why you would give pause at having anything less." He reached into his robe and pulled out another bean-jam bun. "What you tasted here was a confection made outside the walls dividing us from Rukongai. For those who have never ventured out there, it might have come as quite a shock to be served this decidedly mediocre fare. But for the ones who have tasted its like before, I think you will all agree that the difference in quality is partly the reason why you felt continued living outside these grounds was no longer acceptable to you. Am I right?"

There were a few soft expressions of agreement. Rukia's voice was not among them. Though she recalled very clearly subsisting on this or worse in her youth, she was unwilling to share even such a small admission with a crowd of strangers. This habitual wariness was not something she had learned from her new family. It was the mark of someone who recognized early on in life that in this world, you did not give your trust indiscriminately. The more people who knew about you, the less secure you became. They had to earn it. Only a select few were to be let inside. Those chosen then became family.

And when you find your family almost completely gone, then it's time to leave.

Rukia looked down at her fine quality silk hakama, the luxurious fabric far superior to anyone else's in the room.

_What did I ever do to earn this?_ She thought.

But Yoshi was speaking again.

"For many living on the outside, the question of food is not even an issue, much less its quality. Except in cases such as our own, the people of Soul Society are free from that particular want; free from the demands of the living, who in addition to requiring our protection from Hollows, must also contend with the exhausting, ceaseless necessity of providing themselves with food and water. Day in and day out they suffer from the demands that life entails. But not so for us. Am I right?"

More consensus, stronger now, and the strangely-dressed shinigami suddenly stood up.

"Would you say that the living are better off dead?"

That got everyone's undivided attention, Rukia included.

There were no answers this time, not even a few. This had grown disturbing.

Yoshi looked around the hall thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should rephrase myself. Tell me this: what is so good about being dead? Can someone who lived a long life in the living world and Rukongai tell me?"

At first there was no response. Then, a girl towards the middle slowly raised her hand.

"Yes, you," Hitsujikai pointed.

"We're safe here, sir," her voice cracked uncertainly.

"We are safe," the unorthodox death god agreed. "The threat of death has passed from us. There are no warlords rousting us from our homes or pressing us into service, no threat of starvation or disease, as we said. And the shinigami protect all of Soul Society from Hollows, don't they?"

Several loud shouts of agreement came from the first-grade students in back.

"In Soul Society, you can live in peace, am I right?"

There was more vocal commiseration now from the student masses. For some reason Rukia found herself disliking this situation. She got the feeling that Yoshi was taking them on a track the others had not noticed yet. She found herself fingering the hilt of the katana beside her unconsciously.

Yoshi Hitsujikai watched them all clamoring, turning his head from side to side, seeming to study their faces. At length, he lowered his gaze and fixed it to the floor. After a while, the voices died down.

His eyes came back up, and there was something new there. Even on her knees in the back of the room, Rukia could detect anger in his features.

"So then why did you leave?"

The students glanced uneasily about. While they were doing this, Yoshi returned to his seat. He remained there for a time, watching them. When no answers were forthcoming, he spread his arms in a questioning fashion.

"Should I reiterate the question? Come, tell me: if living in the districts of Rukongai is so fine, then what gave you impetus to leave and join the ranks of the academy?" There was some shifting and muttering. Once again, he withdrew the bun from his pocket. "Was it this? Did you hear that you would find better food within these walls? Did something more entice you to leave behind the tranquil afterlife we have agreed is so splendid by comparison? Don't you know what dangers a shinigami's life entails? What would possibly compel you to give up the safety and security of the outer districts to risk being set upon and devoured by Hollows?"

"What?"

Silence followed.

No one wanted to admit it.

Not the shinigami, or the students.

But they all knew, Rukia thought. Just like I do.

And she knew she should say it.

"Because life in the Rukongai is hell."

Her voice came out very softly, such that she wondered if anyone beyond her could hear it at all. But the quiet in this room was so great that even a whisper carried the breadth of the hall.

And Yoshi smiled once more.

"Whoever said that, you have my thanks."

"They're right." He rose again, and began to pace slowly before the front rows, his oddly cut clothes shifting and stirring with every movement. "Those of you with clear memories of your past lives may recall a shinigami informing you before your arrival that Soul Society was a place of peace and tranquility. Indeed, many of us were promised, long before we ever met a death god, that upon dying we would be transported to a paradise devoid of pain, where we could live for eternity in endless bliss and contentment."

The shinigami stopped and crossed his arms, speaking very quietly now.

"Is that what you found?"

This time he did not wait for a response. "No. Instead, you found yourselves in a world not that far removed from the one you left. Oh, to be sure, there was some truth to your beliefs. No hunger. No cold. No need to look for work or a place to live. On face value, there was a lot to recommend it, right?"

"And then what did you find?"

Several members of the audience were shifting uncomfortably, perhaps remembering things they had thought best left behind them. Rukia too briefly recalled her childhood and maturing years. But she dispelled these thoughts in order to pay more attention to Yoshi's words.

"The afterlife was not the paradise which you had been led to believe. And it got progressively worse the farther removed you were from the walls of the Seireitei. Once you stepped beyond, oh, say, the Twentieth district, things began to get a little bleaker, didn't they? The quality of buildings, even the quality of life in general took a sharp downturn from there. People no longer appeared quite so relaxed. Indeed, some of them could be downright dangerous, couldn't they? A threat to you. As it turns out, even as a spirit, you can still feel pain. And that's not all: you realized, perhaps abruptly and graphically, that even here, you could still die."

In many ways, Rukia thought. Quickly, say, from a knife in an alley, bleeding out in the night to be found dead come morning. Or getting caught under the hooves of a stampeding horse; being broken and beaten, lingering on for days in extreme pain that steadily grew worse while your friends sought in vain for someone to come and tend to you. There were many ways to die in Inuzuri, the Seventy-Eighth district. From accidents. Or grief. A chill stole over her, and Rukia now wished that she had not come to this place, dredging up painful memories from the past.

"Some of you might have found yourselves inexplicably living on the street," Yoshi continued. "All of a sudden a group of men came into your home and told you to get out. You might have hung around close by, hoping that they would eventually leave and you could return. But they never did. And no one you turned to would take you in. You hadn't made enough friends in your time here, you see. They had nothing to gain from helping you, and it might have drawn the attention of those who wished to do you harm, for whatever reason. They couldn't risk that. And there was no authority figure you could turn to, out there in the Fifty-Eighth district, or the Seventieth. And certainly not in the last ring called 'Zaraki,' where living might just mean huddling in groups and scattering whenever someone with a sword or a gang came by, hoping that they would chase your neighbors and not you."

No one else was speaking now. From the corner of her eye, Rukia noticed the three shinigami stirring suspiciously, and their admirers watching them closely for instructions.

Yoshi drew to a halt. "But if I'm painting too bleak a picture here, just tell me. After all, life for some here isn't so bad. Just ask the folks living in the First district. They have it better there than anyone else in the Rukongai. Clean clothes, comfortable living arrangements. Death gods who drop in for visits to their families, bringing gifts and news of what's going on in Soul Society. There you can depend on a very comfortable, stable mode of existence. For a long, long time."

"Only after a while, you might start to wonder: is this all there is? You look around and see a world remarkably similar to the one you came from. Wood houses, dirt roads. Animals running loose in the streets. Weren't you supposed to go somewhere more, oh, _heavenly_? No distinctions and limitations, no fears and worries? Just what are you allowed to do here, anyway? Travel, up to a point? Sounds the same as before. You can talk to as many people as you want. Give the newcomers some pointers about what their new existences might involve. Even listen to their stories about what's going on in the world of the living. Not that we really need to care about that, right? Any loved ones we left behind will join us eventually. Given time, they'll be here. You might not recognize them at first, but those old impressions still remain. And really what does it matter how the living spend their few decades of life, when they could have numerous centuries to perfect themselves here?"

Yoshi Hitsujikai unhooked the sword strapped to his belt and raised it high over his head. The crowd suddenly grew tense.

"Look at what I'm wearing," the speaker said in a firm voice. "It appears strange to most of you, doesn't it? Not the sort of apparel you have come to expect from a shinigami, or anyone else here, for that matter. Those of you who do recognize this uniform might understand the implications. It is the raiment given to enforcers of the law who work in the living world these days. The ones who shepherd the living, much the same way we death gods watch over the dead."

"And now, I would like to explain what my wearing this means."

Of a sudden Yoshi stepped forward and walked into a space between the crowds. Several people started, having to crane their necks to keep him in sight. When he reached the center of the crowd he stopped. Rukia now had a much better view of him. To her mind, he looked very calm and confident. The students were certainly hanging off his every word. What came next should be fairly interesting.

"I am trying to make a point," the seated officer spoke. "That point is this: things have changed. For centuries people in the mortal realm have lived in a system that endured without pause. There were droughts and hurricanes, changes in political order, and the restructuring of territorial boundaries. But ultimately, very little items of significant import occurred. The clothes they wore, the tools they used, the lives they envisioned; had you compared them to their great-great-great-great grandparents, you would not have found much to distinguish one from the other. And that being the case, the same was true once those people passed on and came to Soul Society. They could meet their distant ancestors, and find that they had a great deal in common. So in a way, the land of the dead was like a reflection for that of the living. Only today, that is no longer the case."

"Look at the chairs upon which you are sitting." They all proceeded to do so. "This is a new design that has sprung up recently. It was done in order to save room and provide easier transportation. In the past, it would have taken a greater amount of people a lot more time to bring enough seats into this room to accommodate all of you. Today I only needed six. It is an innovation, and a time-saver. It is something new. Ask any shinigami, and they will tell you that there are new things happening in the world of the living virtually every day. They are advancing themselves, with inventions and knowledge that makes the world I came from seem primitive by comparison. I have walked in three worlds, now. The world of my past life, which is forever gone. The living world of today, one that I hardly recognize but still requires my help. And Soul Society, which from the day I arrived, has hardly changed one bit."

"I arranged this meeting today," he spoke very forcefully now, "because I believe that last part is something that has to stop. And the place to start is with people like you."

"Soul Society needs to change itself." His voice was ringing in the enclosed space. "The institutions that we all live under have done some measure of keeping us safe. But not all of us. Not even the vast majority of us. All of you may aspire to be shinigami today," he spun in a circle, pointing at the silent, thoughtful faces, "but not long ago you were residents of Rukongai, and you have seen the conditions that exist for those souls whom we as death gods promised would find a better life for themselves after death. The shinigami act as their protectors from Hollows. But in many ways, we have become jailors. We set the example for them. And what are they seeing? Indifference. Conformity. Unwillingness to try anything new. Enforcement of archaic rules that serve to prevent any sort of progress or change. You know that this is no longer a fit way to conduct our affairs in Soul Society, if indeed it ever was."

Yoshi had his back to her now. As it was, he could not see the looks that had passed between the three shinigami in attendance. But Rukia did not fail to notice them. Still he continued without pause.

"I have seen the ways of the modern world. They have developed instruments and agendas which, if applied here, could alleviate many of the sufferings that exist without surcease through the various levels of the Rukongai. An improved way of life, not just for the first dozen or so levels, but all the way to the very limits of Zaraki. If we apply ourselves to seeing these enhancements through, we _can _affect a sweeping revolution of what constitutes death in our eyes."

At the word 'revolution', something immediately happened. A shinigami seated at the back of the room, the one whom the other pair had looked to for guidance, stood up. The junior members surrounding him parted, and without a word to anyone, he strode over to a door and left the room. Soon after the duo from the Twelfth division also made their departures. Now only Rukia and Yoshi remained as representatives of the graduated classes. Well, almost graduated, she thought guiltily.

This event had not gone unnoticed. Many of the seated students turned to watch. After the shinigami abandoned them, they were closely followed by the blue-clad advanced students. Only red hakama were evident now. Yoshi too came about to observe their departure, but if it disturbed him, he gave no sign. His speech continued uninterrupted as he moved to regard his audience.

"Now in all candor, coming to you was not my first inclination. After giving this matter some thought and arriving at the conclusions which I have shared today, I consulted my superiors on how to approach such efforts. To a man, they treated me with respect, and offered constructive criticism of my ideas. But the members of the 13 Division Imperial Guards were not in the position to affect sweeping changes on the management of Soul Society. That is what they told me. So I turned my sights higher. I approached my captain and his lieutenant, both gentlemen of courtesy who are worthy of all the respect they are given and more. They took the time to hear me out, and showed genuine concern for the problems I detailed. But here again it was recommended that I not attempt any such ambitious undertakings without going through proper channels."

By this time Yoshi had moved back to the front of his stage. "They gave me instructions as to how to approach the people in charge. I took the time to complete the necessary paperwork and interviews. As you may have guessed, such an endeavor went on for quite a while."

Rukia couldn't help but smirk at this. _Quite a while?_ From what she knew of the workings of Soul Society and just living with the upper crust, Yoshi Hitsujikai must have been shuttled back and forth from one official to another for months. Maybe even years. That was how the system worked. If you could call it working. At least he didn't let any bitterness show, she thought. That would only serve to drive away his audience.

"In the end, I was rewarded for my patience by an audience with Commander-General Shigekuni Yamamoto-Genryūsai himself. He listened to my concerns, and showed me every possible courtesy. I submitted a written record of summation, and the General assured me that he would give the matter all due consideration. When this was over, just to assure myself that I had tried every option, I asked to be recommended for the chance to speak before the Central 46 Chambers, so that they could judge for themselves whether or not my points had merit. He declined to make a commitment, and I went on my way."

Yoshi now planted the point of his zanpakutō's sheath into the floor, resting his hands on the hilt while spreading his legs apart in a firm stance.

"When I went ahead and submitted a petition for audience with the 46 on my own, I received a notice that it had been denied. Upon seeking to learn why this might be so, I was informed that I was in danger of a breach of protocol, and that I should not pursue the matter any further. At this point, it became clear to me that behind all the protocol and politeness, everyone I spoke to had been quietly telling me not to engage the issue any further. It was most distressing to realize that people whom I admired and respected had been leading me around by the nose. After giving the matter some thought, I determined that if I was to have any impact at all, I was going to have to take my ideas to those who might be more readily susceptible to them. I would have to find people who were in a position not just to potentially agree with me, but who had the power, the personal experience, and concerted effort to bring about change on their own. The next generation. You."

_What are you thinking?_ Rukia sadly shook her head.

"This is the fourth talk I have given. Like the previous three, it is not a sanctioned academy event, but neither is it specifically outlawed. I have the right to speak to all of you, and you possess the very same right to speak back. Some of us have already made their feelings perfectly clear." Yoshi glanced in the direction of the back of the room, and Rukia tried to make herself unobtrusive. He did not seem to notice her there. "For my part, I was told by my superiors that I had not received clearance for this undertaking, to which I replied that I did not need any. After the third such gathering, they informed me that I was being transferred to another division. That was two days ago. By tomorrow, I will no longer be the ninth seat of the Seventh division. Instead I will be in the Third, and no longer a ranked officer. This is my punishment for stepping outside the bounds of protocol. I accept that they can think of no other way to deal with me. Without my rank, I do not have the authority to convene any further meetings of this nature. It is not my intention to flaunt the rules of the Gotei 13. This is my home, and the people who live in it are my friends. But I do intend to continue striving to improve the lot of those who do not have the luxury of death god powers, the ones who look to us for guidance."

He retook his seat. "So now the floor is open. I would be glad to listen to anything you might have to say to me. Please do not hold back. If I have swayed you, all the better. If I have insulted you, then let me know it."

Yoshi gestured, and the attendants began to move through the rows distributing cups of tea. A girl placed a cup before Rukia, and then shrank away. Their host also accepted one, and as he was blowing on it, a young man towards the front stood up.

"Hitsujikai-sama, I have a question for you."

The officer of the Seventh smiled warmly, and gestured for the student to proceed.

For the next hour, a debate was waged, all observed by a pair of deep blue eyes from the shadows in the rear. The residents of the academy who remained were vociferous and curious. They would have to be, to participate in something that could reflect darkly on their future prospects. Not everyone who went to shinigami academy graduated, Rukia knew. Those who didn't were quietly dismissed to never be heard from again. She had known the fear of such a fate herself. That was before the arrival of the Kuchiki, who had spirited her away for reasons known only to them. She was a part of their world now.

But she didn't feel it. No matter how much time passed. That was why she stayed.

The night was growing long. People began to trickle out, singly and in groups. Yoshi Hitsujikai remained to take queries from any who might linger. Eventually, though, by some unspoken agreement, the crowd all rose and started to file out. Their conversations reached her as they moved through the doors, trooping past with hardly a glance in her direction. Discussing what they had heard, what they planned to do tomorrow. Tests to take, butterflies in their stomachs, the thrill of having tried something perilous for a change. They had other things on their minds than the small, quiet shinigami in the corner.

Rukia remained where she was a few minutes longer, then rose with regret. The lecture attendants were mingling among the remaining students, collecting and stacking the wooden seats. She watched them all move about, feeling a pang of separation from these proceedings. Her inclusion had been hardly noticeable. Tomorrow she might thank her lucky stars at not having taken part, if doing so meant the ire of her family would not be aroused. But for now, she felt decidedly glum at remaining so isolated. Still, she had made her choice. Best to leave before anyone could recognize her, or notice her at all.

The diminutive death god slid her zanpakutō into her obi and moved silently towards the door. As she did, she chanced a look back at the lingering residents.

And froze.

One of the staff, the girl who had offered her refreshments towards the start, was speaking to Hitsujikai. Just as Rukia turned, the attendant raised one arm and pointed straight at her.

Yoshi's liquid brown eyes traveled up to regard her thoughtfully.

The tiny maiden felt her heart begin to pound with anxiety, and she quickly fled.

_Not good_, _not good, not good_. Rukia's thoughts were proceeding somewhere along these lines. She had to get away from here, and fast. No matter her reasons for coming tonight, if she actually got drawn into this far-fetched hodgepodge of altruism, there was no way she would not eventually wind up hearing about it from Byakuya. That was something she could live without. It was hard enough to exist in his presence when he was being barely civil. To learn that she had associated the Kuchiki name with a demoted rabble-rouser, from his perspective, could only serve to heighten the animosity with which she was viewed by the members of the household.

Fortunately, Rukia had always been quick. This was clearly demonstrated when, upon rounding a corner to find a large amount of students clustered around the portal leading out of this lecture hall, she was able to step back without anyone even noticing her presence. This many people with reiatsu in one place also served to mask her own. The wary swordswoman peered around the corner swiftly, swore, and then turned her attention to her surroundings.

In front of her, a narrow window high up allowed thin beams of moonlight to enter the hall. Coming to a decision, Rukia stole over to an ornamental banner on the same wall. Bunching its fabric in her tiny fists, she scaled surely and silently up its heights. Small size had its advantages, and while the use of the sword was not her specialty, long practice with the blade had endowed her with more than enough arm strength to achieve this feat. Reaching the window, Rukia caught its lip, hoisted herself over and squeezed into the opening.

The agile maiden dropped the twenty feet to the ground. This alley was deserted. No one else was about to observe her escape. Congratulating herself on having accomplished this much, she slunk away down a narrow street into the night.

The sound of racing feet reached her ears.

"Kuchiki-sama!"

She flinched, clenching her jaw. For a few seconds she considered abandoning modesty and fleeing with all due haste back to the family estate. Then Rukia's shoulder's slumped in defeat. She had tried her best. The only thing left to do was accept the consequences and try to make the best of it. So resolved, she turned back about.

Moving swiftly towards her was Yoshi Hitsujikai. As he drew closer, his intended target took note of how he seemed to have no difficulty running in those strange clothes. His soul cutter was buckled securely at his waist once more. The man drew apace with her, and Rukia regarded him steadily.

"Can I help you, sir?" Might as well keep things polite. Couldn't hurt.

Yoshi drew to a halt, and bowed deeply. When he came up, Rukia noticed that his eyes were not far above the level of her own. At least that meant she wouldn't have to crane her neck to address him.

"Please forgive me if I startled you. One of the volunteers at my talk told me that a shinigami seated in the back introduced herself as Rukia Kuchiki. Are you the lady in question?"

_Lie! What's he going to do? Call you out? Much too formal and proper for that. You know how to work the system. Just lie, blast it, lie for all you're worth! _

No, she decided. I won't lie to this man. It wouldn't be right.

_Punch him in the gut, pull that funny jacket over his head and run, then?_

Perhaps you weren't listening just now. **It wouldn't be right**.

_Wimp_.

Shut it.

"Yes, I am Rukia Kuchiki." She gave him the bow to a superior. "What can I do for you, Officer Hitsujikai?"

Yoshi smiled. "Firstly, let me apologize for just approaching you on the street like this. I meant no offense, I only wanted to speak with you before you left."

"No offense taken, I assure you." No offense. Just inconvenience.

"Thank you, Kuchiki-sama." He paused then, and for the first time that night, looked truly apprehensive. "I don't mean to be intrusive, but I wonder if perhaps you and I might talk for a few minutes. I'm not keeping you from anything pressing, am I?"

'_Yes, you are. I was just on my way home to recite my virtues, forget this day ever happened, and go to bed.' SAY IT!_

"No, I have time. What is it you would like to discuss with me?"

_And down we go for the third time. Too bad you never learned to dog paddle._

Stay out of this.

"I won't require much, I know you must be busy." Rukia almost told him to stop being so deferential, the difference in their status wasn't nearly as great as he thought, and definitely not in her favor. But she bit her tongue in time. "What I have to say shouldn't take long. Shall we walk back to your division while we speak?"

"I don't have a division."

She blurted it out immediately. Maybe it was the strain of having to keep up the pretence of limited equality. Or her lingering shame at the truth of the statement. But one thing she knew for sure was that he should not have to treat her as though she had earned the same accomplishments he had gone through.

Hitsujikai stared at her in surprise.

"What I mean is, I haven't been officially assigned to duty yet," she continued hastily. "My family requires me to complete additional observances and rituals before I'm considered fit to serve in the Gotei 13."

"Ah." This was all he said in that respect. Then, "But you are a member of the noble Kuchiki family, yes? Led by Byakuya Kuchiki, the captain of the Sixth division?"

Just hearing the name caused her mind to go blank for a moment. It was like her adopted brother was standing right behind her, proud scion of an ancient name, glowering down with frigid disapproval and building resentment. She could almost feel his long, pallid fingers rising up to wrap around her neck, choking off any confirmation that they were indeed related, if only in name.

"Kuchiki-sama, are you all right?"

Rukia took a deep breath, and the sensation passed.

"Yes, thank you. And yes, Byakuya-taichou is my elder brother, as you say."

"Well, then," and he smiled briefly once more. "If I could accompany you back to the grounds of your estate, I wonder if we might talk further. Would that be all right?"

The dark-haired aristocrat-in-training took a few seconds to respond. Rules of upper class engagement were flashing through her mind. He was a ranked division officer of no prominent lineage. She was nobility lacking in division attachment. Who was supposed to defer to whom here? What taboos might she be breaking? Was he even permitted to walk with her anywhere? Could he order her to go with him? Looking back into his softly-structured features, Rukia could not say which of them was more uncomfortable right now.

It suddenly occurred to her: what if he has designs that don't involve protocol as she first thought? Maybe he really wants to ask me out on a date. Could she say yes? Could she say no? Had anything in her daily inundation of manners and polish over the last year given her the skills to deal with this situation either way?

_Oh, the hell with this. What exactly do I, Rukia, want to do?_

"I see no reason why not. I would be most glad if you were to accompany me back to the Kuchiki grounds, Officer Hitsujikai."

The stocky shinigami beamed now, and turning in a westward direction, they proceeded on their way.

It was later in the evening than she had first surmised. But the moon was full that night, more than sufficient to light their path. The other stragglers from the meeting were no doubt returning to the student residences, in the opposite direction. They had the night to themselves, as it were.

Yoshi wasted no time. "I wonder if I might ask your opinion on the topics I laid out before, Kuchiki-sama. Have you ever had cause to note the conditions that exist outside the walls of Seireitei?"

_I _lived _in those conditions, thank you very much_.

"Actually, I have spent some time outside the walls, observing the inequalities and deficiencies that you alluded to."

"I see." The modern-looking death god strolled along at her side, seeming to choose his next words carefully. "Then by any chance, are you familiar with the world of the living?"

"No." Very brusque. For her, it might as well not exist.

"No, of course not. The daughter of a noble family, I meant no insult."

"I took none."

There was no conversation between them for a time. Rukia stared straight ahead, not looking at her escort. She was working to defuse this situation, whatever his angle might be. That part had not been made clear to her yet.

"That might change once you join the divisions proper. There are numerous opportunities for ranking officers. I can tell that you would have no trouble in securing such a position."

Was he referring to her level of spirit powers, or her status as nobility? Either way, it did not put her in a better frame of mind. Small-talk time was over.

"Was there anything specific you wanted to discuss with me about tonight, Hitsujikai-sama?"

"Yes, there was." Yoshi drew to a halt. Rukia took a few further steps and then turned as well, preserving the distance between them. He straightened his shoulders, and turned a frank expression on her. "Kuchiki-sama, I was very heartened to learn that someone of your prominence would care to attend this debate, much less stay for the entire duration. I know that it is not the sort of event that draws any particular consideration in Seireitei. But I remember what it was like, before I became a shinigami proper. Even then, I recognized that there was a vast gulf between what Soul Society promised us, and what it actually delivered. I was disappointed to find that there was little real difference between one life and the other. When I realized that I had the potential to be a death god, I thought it might lead to some active efforts to improve the lot of those less fortunate."

It was gradually becoming clear to Rukia that he had harbored no carnal intentions when he approached her. Apparently this was going to be about his reform agenda, not his love life. She could not say for sure which held less appeal right now.

"As you heard, I tried to work within the system to organize some positive results. But there were none. Unless you count my being stripped of rank, which I can't say I do. Still, I don't consider this the end of it. That's why I had to squeeze in one last debate before I left. There are still avenues left to explore in this area, and I think one of them might be with you."

"With me." A flat statement. She made no attempt to disguise the wariness in her tone. Was there anyone who actually liked to be told that they were about to be used?

"Absolutely." His face had a more eager cast now. "The nobility are a powerful force here in Soul Society. That was one alternative I didn't consider taking, because I wasn't familiar with any of its members or its intricacies. I mean you no offense, but this sort of thing just didn't seem like a topic that would garner much interest among the royal houses. Clearly I was mistaken in that assumption. Knowing you were here tonight caused me to reconsider my notions in that regard."

"No one else knew I was coming here," Rukia spoke warningly, trying to preempt any further misreading of her presence. "Certainly not my brother, if that's what you are implying."

"But you _did_ come. _That's _my point. Even one person can make all the difference. Kuchiki-sama, you said that you were familiar with the inadequacies of life outside the Seireitei."

"What of it?" Running was seeming more and more like a friendly option.

He gave a polite cough. "May I assume that you would never want such conditions to apply to yourself, or anyone else you care about?"

That could have been an insult, or a threat. She was fast losing patience with this man, a trait she was not particularly keen on in the first place. "I think if the situation warranted it, I could apply myself to living in any conditions, no matter how deplorable it might appear to outsiders." She was proving that statement in two different worlds now. It suddenly occurred to Rukia that it was no accident she had survived for so long in the Inuzuri. Or, for that matter, the home of the Kuchiki. She had her faults, and perhaps she was not as confident of her abilities as she had been before joining the shinigami academy. But neither was she the type to knuckle under and admit defeat. She had more going for her than her appearance might let on, and Yoshi would do well to remember that.

He began to speak. "I'm sure you co…"

"Not as sure as I am!" There was frost in Rukia's tone. Anger was building up, fueled by long months of frustration and loneliness. The travails of the nobility, the loss of her only friend left in the entire world; it was all seeping out now, past the porcelain shell of meekness and dignity she had been forced to construct in order to meet the expectations of her new family. It might not have had the same imminent threat as had existed in her surroundings since birth, but the past twelve months of virtual confinement and subjugation were certainly just as wearing on the spirit. Having it all thrown back in her face this night, almost as if it had been designed that way, had served to rekindle some of that fire and stubbornness that had served her so well before.

"I know exactly what it means to live in the Rukongai, Yoshi Hitsujikai. I might never have done a thing in the living world besides die, but it couldn't possibly be any worse there than what I have endured for all my days here! I came into the Seireitei, knowing full well what I was trying to do: escape from a way of life that offered no protection, even to the innocent. A world where might made right, and if you turned to anyone to rescue you, it was just an admission that you were already dead."

Flashing violet eyes now clashed furiously with deep brown ones, and it was the Seventh division officer who first blinked. "I thought you might share my desire to champion a new outlook on the mission we undertook as shinigami."

"Thought?!" She swept her arms up and down like a tiny enraged black butterfly. "No, what you _hoped_ was that I might be able to put in a good word for you with the noble Sixth squad captain! If you had actually _thought_, you would have realized that sitting in a corner and never saying a word is not a tacit admission of approval, it's a sign that I want to be left alone!"

And with that she spun about and strode off.

"You did speak," Yoshi said softly.

"What?!" Rukia whipped back around.

"You made it clear to us all why we came tonight." His face and words gave no sign that he was angered by her outburst. In truth, he looked almost sad. "I didn't realize it was you until we started speaking. Something about your voice sounded familiar. After a while it came to me. 'Because life in the Rukongai is hell.' That was you. And you were completely right."

Rukia's eyes narrowed mistrustfully on him. "So what?"

"_So what_?" he repeated. "Everything. What you said means everything!" His arms were crossed, and he had regained a look of authority now, as if he were once again skillfully and purposefully addressing a crowd of students. "Soul Society and its laws have endured for thousands of years. When anything has been around for that long, it starts to forget why some of those rules were made in the first place. Especially if the people in charge of all the rest are the ones who made it happen to start with. The 46 Chambers, the captains, they all stand for something here! But even though they make the rules for the people, they do it without having to _live_ with those people! And after so many centuries, it's not even a rule anymore. It's an institution! Something that no one is allowed to question at all, or else risk being punished. The Seireitei cherishes its rules like prized family heirlooms. Maybe for some people they are. And they don't think about how anyone is really living except themselves. So I'm sorry if I made the same mistake with you, assuming that your being here meant that you were dissatisfied and had come to the same conclusions as me. It was not my intent to use your name like some sword to cut through the bureaucratic red tape. I only wished to confirm for you that getting something to happen inside these walls isn't impossible. That's what I believe. Because deep down, the 13 Imperial Squads are founded on the ideal that caring about and protecting people is good and worthwhile and necessary. We just have to get back to basics in some respects. When I wake up in the morning it's going to be in a way that lets everyone know that I still respect all men's souls, and I intend to work hard at proving it, Kuchiki-sama!"

He stopped talking, clapped his arms to his sides and bowed down low to her, a sign of utmost respect.

Rukia Kuchiki stared.

Then she turned and sprinted away.

Hitsujikai straightened, and made his way off towards the Seventh division barracks.

She ran, not because she didn't believe in what he said. Rukia did believe. Her flight was for a much more obvious reason.

It was done so that he wouldn't see the tears that had formed in her eyes.

Eventually she drew to a halt, panting and gasping. Her face was wet with streaming salt water, and there was a pain in her heart like she hadn't experienced in so many years. Not since she and Renji Abarai had laid the last of their friends to rest. At that moment, standing over the simple monuments, she had looked out over their home from the heights of this unofficial graveyard. Though the sun was setting in all the majesty she had always loved, today she could find no beauty in their world. Instead all she saw were squat, dilapidated houses, and people shuffling warily back and forth down the streets in groups. There was so much suffering here, and trials. She had felt herself growing tired of repeating the same obstacles every single day. Each morning was supposed to bring new promise, she had heard. But nothing ever improved in her world. Only new challenges, as friends died and old enemies were swallowed up and replaced with worse ones. It was at that moment she had decided to leave this place behind forever, and never give it a second thought. Renji had agreed with her. They would go to enlist in the shinigami academy and fight to join the ranks of the elite souls, or die in the attempt.

Rukia had never gone back to her home in the Seventy-Eighth district. There hadn't seemed any need for it.

It had never occurred to her that she might return for the sake of someone else. Especially not for ones she had never even met.

She hadn't become a shinigami to protect anyone. Just to save herself. The Kuchiki were only the latest attempt at self-preservation. It was all done with her own best interest in mind.

And maybe that's why I feel so alone, Kuchiki reflected.

She sank to her knees, trembling with grief. Rukia buried her face in her hands and cried, for herself and all the rest.

The moon shone softly down.

After a few minutes, Rukia's head came upwards, and let subtle celestial radiance wash over her face. The small soul stared at it, finding herself mesmerized. It was almost like a great round mirror, casting its light upon the world. Maybe anyone who looked at that lone giant could see themselves reflected in its solitary position. All alone, forever.

Staring at a setting sun. Observing a rising moon. Making a choice to change her life, hopefully for the better. She no longer felt so aggrieved.

Rukia Kuchiki stood, gripping the hilt of her zanpakutō firmly. She crouched down and sprang upwards, robes flapping loosely, to land on the roof of a nearby guardhouse. Her senses were sharpened by a life on the streets and the finest instructors Soul Society had to offer. She knew in what direction her quarry must have gone, and so she proceeded on her way.

Over the arched peaks of student housing, past patrolling security and along the waterways. Rukia eventually passed beyond the bounds of the academy, and entered the grounds for the second division. From there it was a straight shot to the headquarters of the Seventh. Before she was even halfway there, though, her soul perception had pinpointed a certain shinigami. It had to be him. Yoshi Hitsujikai was only a few blocks away. Her tatami sandals making almost no sound on the ceramic reishi tiles, the driven survivor focused on finding the man who had taken the time to teach her about herself.

There was a rustle of power, like faint smoke on the air. In mid-leap, Rukia felt a shiver go up her spine. Of a sudden she knew herself to be exposed up here, and dropped down to the street.

Up ahead she could feel Hitsujikai's presence. Apparently he had stopped. Had he sensed her coming, or was he too experiencing the faintest inkling of something out of place?

Kuchiki acted on her misgivings, and worked to suppress her own telltale reiatsu. Then stealthily she stole up the alley. The thought of danger was causing her throat to tighten, and Rukia hardly dared breath now. She was almost there.

Up ahead there came a short grunt.

And Yoshi Hitsujikai's presence vanished.

Rukia's eyes widened. Almost imperceptibly, she crept down the alley, coming upon a tiled courtyard.

In the middle of that open space, a strangely garbed body lay face-down in the square. Blood was pooling beneath it to spread over the stones.

Two black-clad figures rose from beside it. No trace of spirit power escaped these forms. Their faces and hands were entirely swathed in ebony coverings. Only the eyes glinted forth. Light reflected also on two long knives they carried, a tiny flash of red gleaming along the black substance dripping off them.

Between the living shadows and Rukia there stood another. The back was turned, and like the others, all sense of spirit power was tightly constrained within it. But clearly noticeable was the long pale haori, adorned with the symbol of a shinigami division. As Kuchiki stared, the silent observer turned their head. Twin white braids swung, and two silver rings clinked together delicately.

Across the blood-stained scene, Rukia Kuchiki found herself staring into the hard gimlet gaze of the head of the Secret Mobile Corps, Captain of the Second division.

Soifon.

The eyes of the shinigami executioner fell upon her, and Rukia found that she could no longer move. She remained frozen in her defensive stance, clutching the scabbard of her soul cutter, free hand locked on its hilt in a thwarted attempt at heroics. Neither of them moved.

The tiny shinigami tried to swallow, tried to blink. Nothing. She could only stare wide-eyed at the incomprehensible slaughter.

"Rukia-san!"

A cheerful voice, followed by a hand coming down on her shoulder.

"What brings you by?"

_Oh, sweet heaven, no_, she prayed, terrified now for a different reason.

Trembling, Rukia looked over her shoulder.

The captain looming at her back gave no indication of noticing her rigid shock. That eternal smile graced his thin lips, and his eyes were practically shut in an expression of foxy amusement. Silver hair gleamed in the moonlight.

Ichimaru Gin gave the small noblewoman's shoulder a squeeze, and turned his occluded orbs over to Soifon.

"Have you two met? Soifon-taichou, this'd be the younger sister of our esteemed compatriot, Byakuya Kuchiki. Rukia-san, I'd like ta introduce you to Captain Soifon, of the Second division."

Soifon's predatory eyes narrowed at the facetious tone. She flicked a dismissal at her two subordinates, who proceeded to hoist the bleeding body between them and vanish in a blur of flash step. Still without turning completely, the slight assassin continued to stare at the mismatched pair.

"Ichimaru-taichou." Her words came out sharp, clipped. Striking daggers of sound. "Can I trust you to handle this matter yourself?"

The implication hit all at once, and Rukia's eyes darted to one side. _No!_ She begged silently. Her previous quivering dread for the murderous female captain was subsumed by a heartfelt agony of fear. _Please don't leave me alone with him!_

"Now ain't that a silly question," Gin drawled. "Of course you can! No cause to worry, I'll see her done right."

Soifon nodded. And without moving a muscle, she vanished, a slight sonic boom the only sign of her passing.

"So…"

Ichimaru scratched his head casually. His gaze came down to take in Rukia's clearly agitated form. That knowing smirk grew even wider.

"Wanna take a walk with me, Kuchiki-chan?"

She could not reply, only stood there trembling and staring up at him.

"Guess that's a yes."

He moved off, one hand still clamped firmly around her shoulder, and Rukia had no choice but to follow.

The head of the Third division led her into the now deserted square. Only a small pool of blood remained to mark Yoshi Hitsujikai's presence, now black in the moonlight. His pace took her very close to that innocuous splotch, and Rukia had to draw away to keep from staining the hem of her robes. Doing so brought her even closer to Gin, though, and she almost lurched back into the puddle when she heard him chuckle. The smell of the spilled fluids seemed overwhelming. She was feeling ill with fear and revulsion.

Then the pair of death gods had moved into another of Seireitei's narrow lanes. The silver fox at Rukia's side led her along a curving, turning route. Though her heart was pounding so loud it gave her a headache, she was almost certain that he was trying to mislead her. Not that it was needed. At this point she had no clue if she was even in the confines of Soul Society. More like her own private version of hell.

There was only one time when Rukia Kuchiki was actually glad to be with her brother Byakuya. And that was when they were confronted by the captain of the Third division. It was a rare thing to actually feel safe in her brother's presence. Not that Ichimaru Gin had ever done anything to her. Or anyone else that she knew of. Some people didn't have to hurt you. It was just… looking at them, you knew they could. And more than that, they dearly wanted to. That's how it was with this one. Gin was a pit viper in human form. It wouldn't have surprised her to learn that he had been a snake back in his mortal days. Someone she met before had a favorite phrase that she only recalled now. _Every paradise has its serpent_. Still didn't really know what it meant. But if Soul Society was heaven, then she wouldn't have to look very far to find its fangs.

"Ever feel like you're gettin' lost walking these roads, Kuchiki-chan?"

Rukia was fighting very hard not to pass out. Or throw up. She was regretting even the small fare she had eaten for dinner. Conversation was not an option at this point.

"They all look alike," Gin smiled worryingly. "I mean if you're not careful, you might wind up turned all around, no idea which way to go. Just wander the avenues 'til you can't go on. Next day those Fourth division flunkies find your body in the street'n gotta haul you off to be buried."

Rukia tore herself away from his bony fingers, ran to a wall and collapsed, heaving up the contents of her stomach.

Ichimaru Gin just stood by patiently, staring up at the moon, a slight twist to his lips.

In about a minute the female death god rose, shaking. She realized that she had her back turned to the enemy, and glanced quickly behind her.

The grinning captain didn't appear to be paying her any attention. But with his eyes perpetually hovering on the verge of closed, how could you tell? Rukia was not so foolish as to believe that this was an opportunity to make her escape. Even if taken by surprise, the insanely powerful shinigami would have no trouble catching up to her if he wanted to. So then what were her options?

The noblewoman's small fingers remained clenched tight around the hilt of her zanpakutō. Briefly she thought about attacking him, but that was crazy. Even if he couldn't overpower her with both hands behind his back, assaulting a captain was grounds for execution. And besides, what had he done? Escorted her away from the scene of an obviously sanctioned crime? The thought abruptly reminded her of what she had just been privy to, and Kuchiki felt her insides clench again.

It was at this moment Gin's gaze undeniably swiveled over to her again.

"All done?"

For the first time since he had arrived, Rukia spoke.

"Yes."

"Good." And he beckoned. "Follow me."

The captain took off, skipping noiselessly down the path. He did not turn to see if she would obey. For just a second, indecision reigned. Then training took over, and she relented, following a respectful and wary several paces behind.

They continued walking for several minutes. Rukia stared at the back of Gin's head. Wonder if he has eyes in back, she thought briefly. Maybe the ones up front are just for show, and if she stole up and pushed away the heft of his metallic hair, she would find the beast's gaze staring hungrily back at her. If ever there was a soul who should have become a Hollow, it was him. She wondered absently whether Ichimaru had always been like this. And if not, just what had happened to make him so. It did not bear further exploration.

Still musing on these thoughts, the young shinigami was surprised to turn a corner and find herself on the edge of a carefully manicured lawn. A canal flowed through this area, bounded by an ornamental bridge that led to a tiny island of green in the stream's center. A single sakura tree sprouted on this idyllic islet, one small granite shrine the only other ornament. She realized that this was one of the relaxation gardens scattered throughout the various divisions of the Seireitei, its upkeep falling as with so many other things to the Fourth division.

Ichimaru Gin passed over the arch of the bridge in a few strides. He took a seat on top of the shrine and looked back at her, still smiling. "C'mon over, Kuchiki-san. Two of us need to have a little chat."

Rukia's eyes flickered about carefully. There didn't seem to be anyone else in the vicinity, whether evident by sight or reiatsu. But the first was not to be trusted, and the latter possibly concealed. The man slouched casually before her was proof of that. If this ruthless person were to allow his spirit power to release at full intensity, it would knock her unconscious, or at least make her feel like the sky was falling. It seemed like it was just her and Gin, though. Not a position she would have wished for anyone, least of all herself.

But as much as she feared him, though his commands and the implied threat beneath did unnerve her, something more had compelled Rukia not to run away this night. It was the memory of blood on the flagstones, and the sight of a person standing there she had never really spoken to, but whom she had regarded as worthy of respect. The thought made her recall Hitsujikai's speech. He had truly admired the leaders of Soul Society, she realized. That had not just been for the sake of keeping the students from turning on him for a few hours. There had been true sincerity behind his words. The thought of that made the scene she had stumbled upon both incongruous and chilling. This was her home too, now. And if she was going to continue living here, then she wanted to hear an explanation for why that had happened.

She only wished it could have come from a different source.

And with that in mind, she moved across the arch separating her and the grinning specter to join him on the island.

Her silver-headed superior beckoned her to be seated, and the raven-haired waif complied, never taking her eyes off him. She sat seiza beneath the boughs of the cherry tree, taking some comfort from the solid, durable presence at her back.

Ichimaru Gin's vulpine features were even more chilling when seen in shadows. The glow of his hair remained, though, casting a sort of halo about his head. One of his hands came up, and he reached into the voluminous confines of his other sleeve. Rukia felt a drop of sweat slide down her spine, and her fists clenched in anticipation of something awful. But when the spider-like fingers reappeared, they were holding a small bottle of saké and two drinking cups. Balancing the bowls on the tips of two fingers, he deftly poured the rice wine into both. He then proffered them to Rukia invitingly.

A child would know what to do here. An infant, even. Refuse. Politely, but firmly.

She caught the look on his face, and decided not to push her luck.

The violet-eyed maiden accepted one of the small plates. She did not drink it right away, though. Ichimaru didn't seem to mind, only brought the shallow dish up to his lips and took a sip.

He gave a sigh of contentment. The flask went back inside his robes.

"So. You're prob'ly wondering what that was all about back there. Just walking in unannounced, guess we can't really blame you. A situation like that, two captains present, stands to reason there must have been something really dangerous underfoot. Right, Kuchiki-san?"

He had another drink of saké, and looked at her speculatively. Rukia found herself unnerved by the sudden silence, and began studying Ichimaru's every movement carefully, trying to see the strike before it came.

Then Gin shrugged.

"Guess it can't really hurt to let you in on it now. To tell the truth," and he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That fella you were talkin' with tonight, the one going on about respect and change and love of duty? The right honorable Yoshi Hitsujikai, ninth seat of squad Seven? He was plotting against us, working to betray Soul Society to the Hollows."

"He was a stinkin' traitor, Rukia-chan."

Water rippled quietly by, and the two shinigami stared at one another.

Against her better judgment, Rukia's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing in obvious mistrust and disbelief.

And Gin gave a bark of laughter.

He slapped his shin, then rested one elbow on his knee and let his chin plop into the open palm, not spilling a drop of his drink. A charming smile graced his features, and the half-hidden eyes sparkled with undisguised amusement.

"I'm just kidding with you. He was okay."

Her arm began to shake, wrath building inside of her chest. The words of a destructive kido spell came to mind.

The captain took another sip, and then casually refilled his cup. The bottle disappeared into the confines of his sleeve.

"Have a drink, Kuchiki-chan."

That was an order. Soft-spoken, and gracious, but undeniably deadly. Never had such an innocuous statement held such life-and-death undertones.

All thoughts of recrimination died, and she obeyed the command.

The deceptively slender warrior gave her a nod of approval, and proceeded to chug the contents of his own cup.

"Seriously, I was just funning with ya. Yoshi was a stand-up guy. Ask anybody who knew him in the Seventh. Steadfast and brave, real asset in a fight. Took to command like nobody's business when he had to, but he never tried to second-guess his superiors out in the field. If they were all like him, why, we might never lose a single shinigami in battle. I'm actually kinda sorry to see him go out like this. No martial honors for the family, even. Just burn the official forms and pretend like nothing ever happened. 'Yoshi who? Nah, never heard of him.'"

Gin slipped his dish back into one sleeve, hand reemerging with the bottle. Popping the lid, he took a swig, and looked over at her with a sweet smile on his face.

"Raise your glass, Kuchiki-san. To Yoshi Hitsujikai! A credit to death gods everywhere! May we all be half as brave as he was, and twice as smart."

Beaming, he toasted, and Rukia found herself automatically following suit. The alcohol coursed down her throat, heating her insides. It might have been this that gave her the courage to ask the next question.

"What did he do, then? To deserve this?"

Gin leaned back, gazing contemplatively up at the boughs of the sakura tree. Its blossoms were freshly budding. The night was warm, the breeze was soft. Were anyone to chance upon this scene, they might just see a man having a drink under the moon with a pretty girl.

Abruptly he stood up.

Rukia tensed.

Ichimaru crossed the few steps dividing them, and plopped down at her side. Reaching over, he refilled her cup. Knowing for certain that his lips had touched the contents meant she was now firmly resolved that hers never would, no matter what he threatened her with. Sharing an indirect kiss with this whimsical fox demon was an experience she could live without.

But the man in question hadn't seemed to notice her strained mood. He was talking once again.

"You already know what he did, Rukia-san. He went against the rules. Disobeyed the wishes of the higher-ups. Now, maybe no actual laws were broken, but in this case, it was more the spirit than the letter of the law we're talkin' about."

Gin looked at her then. And she looked back. For just an instant, in her eyes, that enduring smile of his almost seemed forced. Pasted on.

The impression did not linger.

"Yoshi Hitsujikai was given every possible opportunity to salvage his life. He got the gentle discouragement, and the polite refusal. They gave him all the warning paperwork to let him know he was stickin' his neck out here. And just to show how much we all cared about him, he was even afforded the grace and honor of meetin' with Commander-General Yamamoto, who listened to his grievances and assured young Yoshi that there was nothing more for him to do and he should just let the matter drop. But did our hero listen? No, he didn't."

Ichimaru sighed in apparent sympathy. Kuchiki did not buy this act for a second.

"Instead he actually went sniffing around the offices of the Central 46 Chambers. As if they had the time to meet with every shinigami who's got a boo-boo, or needs a favor, or just wants someone to listen to their problems. I tell you, Rukia-chan, if that little mouthpiece had a lick of common sense, he would have sucked it up, gotten a few of his buddies together, and gone out drinking. Just like you and me are doin' right now. Goes to prove it, I guess. Not everybody knows how to deal with the world they live in. And when that's the case, the most humane thing you can do is to just take 'em on out of it. So that's what we did."

It was a very warm night. The weather in the Seireitei was always pleasant, thanks to the manipulation of reishi that made up the atmosphere. Even when it snowed, there was never any real need to bundle up. The fluttering crystals only served to make a cup of saké all the sweeter.

In spite of this, Rukia found herself growing colder than she had ever felt in living memory. Even looking on the dead faces of her childhood friends had not served to imbue her with the same paralyzing horror that was turning her veins to ice at this time.

Beside her, the cold-blooded predator continued to chat good-naturedly, enjoying his drink and life in general.

"The General Genryūsai himself told us, you know. After Yoshi put on the first of his little student-teacher escapades, he said that a line had been crossed. When you're given the title of shinigami, it isn't so that you can swing a sword and look cool wearing black, you know. It's to let you in on a highly structured and carefully planned military organization. The bigwigs didn't just slap on all these rules and procedures to make themselves feel important, right, Kuchiki-san? Well, am I right?"

He gave her a questioning look. But Rukia was still too wrapped up in impending anguish to offer a response. Gin didn't seem to mind, though. He continued as if the attempt had been made.

"Course not. That would be ridiculous, right? What kind of a petty, self-important old fart would go and do a thing like that? So anyway, the first of those lectures came and went. And let me tell you, the Commander-General was gettin' really hot and bothered. Most of the time at captains' meetings you think he's about to fall asleep in his chair. But those last few? Oh, hell, no! He was definitely mad. And just to add wood to the fire, the next week Yoshi goes and does it again! Now Yamamoto's really on the warpath. Still, like I said, there was no actual infraction of the rules to speak of. Officers above tenth seat in their division are specifically endowed with the power to host student seminars. Gives the kids a chance to see what heights they might aspire to, and teaches them about real-world tactics that might only come in more advanced classes. Everybody wins, see? But fostering discontent within the minds of impressionable young academy attendees? That's a no-no."

Gin Ichimaru stretched one leg out, giving the appearance of easing a crick in his neck. In contrast, the petite body beside him was scrunching in on itself, trying to escape what she was hearing without actually leaving. But there was no getting away from the captain's words. They sounded in her ears without mercy. That term simply did not apply to anything Gin did.

"Along comes lecture number three, and Yamamoto's had it. He tells Captain Komamura that this one's out. The masked marvel doesn't put up any kind of resistance. 'Tween you and me, when it comes to the General, he's a whipped dog, that one. Don't go spreading it around, now, Kuchiki-san. Our little secret. The call goes out for another division to accept Hitsujikai, only in a strictly non-officer capacity. Cut the guy's balls off, so to speak. There's really nothin' worse than getting demoted in the 13 Squads. Well, almost nothing, death is a close second. Anyway, like I said before, I kinda feel sorry for our staunch defender of the people. So I volunteer to take him under my wing. Cuz that's just the kinda guy I am. No sooner has the official paperwork been signed and delivered than Yoshi lets everybody know that he will not be silenced. Lecture number four is scheduled for tonight."

"That's when I get the call. Me and Soifon show up at Genryūsai-taichou's office. He lets us know that Yoshi Hitsujikai is to be officially removed from the rolls of active shinigami, and unofficially removed from Seireitei. An hour ago, when the transfer between divisions was clinched, my subordinate Kira received a notice from Yoshi. Citing personal problems, he was requesting to be removed from active duty for a while. Bein' cognizant of his situation, I concluded that some time off might be just what the doctor ordered, and signed the approval form myself. So when he doesn't show up tomorrow, nobody'll have to act surprised. It's all been taken care of, according to standard procedure. Everything's swept under the rug."

The smirking death god grew thoughtful for a few moments. "I guess the lesson here is, _If you're gonna swim with the sharks, don't be a guppy_."

He shifted about and regarded Rukia directly through his heavy lashes.

She was staring blankly at him now, face worked in total incomprehension.

Ichimaru grinned.

"Sorry 'bout that. It's a mortal expression. Didn't mean to talk over your head there, Kuchiki-chan."

And so saying, he reached up and laid a hand atop Rukia's crown.

"What I should've said was, _The_ _nail that sticks up gets hammered down._"

The spare form gave a violent tremble beneath his fingers.

_Please_.

She turned her gaze away, very slowly, but the sticks continued to caress her scalp.

_Please stop touching me._

Hands twisting in her lap, Rukia Kuchiki could not find it in her heart to speak out against this intrusion. She could almost hear the voices of her tutors now. _He's not really doing anything wrong. You don't have the authority to refuse him._

_You have to obey the rules._

And do the rules say somewhere that he can rape me, gut me, and leave my corpse in the road? Is that what we were going to get around to learning tomorrow?

I should never have come here, Rukia thought.

_Where? _The inner voice prodded. _To the lecture?_ _Or Seireitei?_

Before she could decide, Ichimaru was speaking once more.

"So all that leaves us with now is you."

_Danger!_ An alarm was ringing in her ears. The Third division commander continued in a pleasant tone.

"If it was Soifon here, I know she'd recommend something drastic. That's just her way. But she ain't here, now, is she? It's only me. Little old me. And I think that what you really need, Rukia-san, is for someone to explain to you a bit of the history in just what it means to become a shinigami. Here we go."

"Now." Gin was brushing her hair softly, meditatively. "Before the founding of Soul Society, things weren't looking so hot. Hollow populations were scavenging the living ceaselessly. A lot of folks all over the world told stories about demons that would come into your home or pick you up off the street and carry you away, or just eat you right then and there. Even dying wasn't a surefire escape, cuz some powerful Hollows would bust right into Soul Society and take as many as they pleased. It was a good time for them, to be sure."

"And then, a lone man appeared. He had vision. He had strength of will. And most importantly, he had power. Loads of power. Buckets of power. Hell, forget the buckets, this guy was the whole _ocean!_ People came to him with the buckets! He looked out upon the state of affairs at that time, and he decided, this wasn't right. Somebody had to do something. And he was just the right guy for the job. Now Soul Society already had a king, mind you. And being king basically meant that you didn't have to concern yourself with much except staying king. Bottom line, don't get eaten by no Hollows that come busting in. So this super man goes to the king, and makes him an offer. Give him the authority to act in his name, and he'd fashion a military force that would supply the king with the crème-de-la-crème of Soul Society, the mightiest souls the afterlife had to offer, culled from all the reaches of our plane. With them arrayed beneath him, this he-man would beat back the invading Hollows for good and all, and establish order and security not just for the dead, but for the living as well. He laid it all out for the king; a perfectly crafted system which would offer protection to his subjects and, more importantly, to the royal family."

"Our mountain of power was as good as his word. Before you knew it, he had set up an academy to train those who had significant reiatsu in how to make it work for them. Learning the name of your guardian spirit, crafting it into a zanpakutō, and bringing it out for you to be all you could be. Then came kido spells, which few could teach, but nobody shared. That just wouldn't do. He caught them all, one by one, and told them they would be working for him now, teaching his students and learning from one another. And if they didn't like it, he'd just lop off their heads with his flaming sword of justice. Nice trade, huh?"

Gin smiled, sipping his liquor and playing with the unresisting Kuchiki's hair.

"And so, from the ashes of yesterday, there arose the Seireitei. It didn't take the founder long to locate three other spectacularly gifted souls, each nearly as strong as himself. He wooed them to his cause, giving them the opportunity to protect the ones they cared about and fashion a model of the afterlife that they could all be proud of. Once this trio was established, they started laying the ground rules. When things got too big even for them to handle, others were drawn in, carefully selected based on an exacting criteria and their own individual qualities. There were ones to mete out punishment, and others to maintain the upkeep of the surroundings. They chose those with good organizational skills and keen intellects to govern the rules and regulations that were needed to maintain such a sweeping organization. And it worked! The disorganized Hollows were routed by the master and his protégés. Upon seeing their power, the rest of Soul Society was more than willing to forego their old chaotic existence in favor of order and security."

Suddenly Gin's fingers stopped their drumming. He bent down and glared, smiling without humor or mercy, into Rukia's wide, frightened blue eyes.

"Now, having learned all this, waddaya think it means when some joker stands up and questions the society that those great heroes struggled and agonized and sacrificed for in order to bestow on all of us? Do you honestly think they're gonna just look up and go, 'Oh, you're right, young feller! We really didn't do such a good job after all! Why don't you just come on over and tell us what we need to do to improve your stay in Soul Society, and we'll get right on that.' And if you do have a problem with how things are run, just what can you do about it? You gonna take on the legions of shinigami academy graduates, backed up by all their corresponding lieutenants and captains? You gonna risk crossing swords with two insanely powerful top-ranked original captains, and a woman who could disembowel you and heal you in one stroke, just so she could decapitate you afterwards? Are you going to face down the mountain's base himself, a man who, if he really wanted to, could reduce all of Soul Society and everyone in it to ash and bone?"

He grew silent then, studying her face speculatively.

"Have you ever been bullied, Kuchiki-san?"

That last question registered more personally with her, and after a few moments of miserable shaking, Rukia gave the vaguest nod.

"Not a good experience, is it? Makes you feel like you're not good enough to go on living. Am I right?"

Full awareness was slowly returning, and her fine-boned face drew upon a shade of confusion. Was this another example of Gin's sadistic sense of humor?

"Did you ever try to fight back, Kuchiki-san?" Both his voice and his smile were very soft now.

Still clutching her cup, Rukia couldn't bring herself to figure out where this conversation was leading. The only answer she could give was the truth.

"Sometimes." Her response was very faint.

Ichimaru nodded. "When you thought you could win, right? Or when you'd just had enough."

Her confirmation came in a slight nod.

"What about when the bully had a bunch of friends with him? Did you ever think it was smart to try and fight then?"

Slight hesitation. And then, a negative shake of the fair-skinned head.

"Cuz then they'dve hurt you bad. Or worse."

Again the nod of agreement.

"Situation like that, the only thing you can do is run away from what scares you."

Tears were coming now.

"Even though you feel like a coward. Even though you're ashamed and angry with yourself, and always afterwards you dream about going back there and just beatin' the ever-loving shit outta those punks. Even then, should the situation reappear, you always still run away. If you don't you'll get punished. One way or another."

Her beautiful deep violet eyes were shut, and the humiliation was coursing down her cheeks for everyone to read.

"Is that the way you want to live, Kuchiki-san? Lettin' the bullies have their way because they're stronger and faster than you? Never speaking out and trying to change the problems you see, for fear that you'll be stepped on and cast aside, with no one to protect you? Turning a blind eye to the misfortunes of the world that everyone thinks are a necessary and immutable sacrifice for the sake of tranquility?"

Her shoulders were heaving, she was gasping in shuddering breaths. Despite all this, Rukia Kuchiki still managed to shake her head fiercely.

"No!"

Gin Ichimaru's grin grew very wide, and he rose to his feet.

"Do you think Yoshi Hitsujikai deserved what was done to him?"

"NO!" Stronger this time.

"If a captain were ta hear you say that, waddaya think they'd do to you?"

She grew still, staring up at him fearfully once more.

"Make no mistake, Rukia-chan," the _kitsune_ leered down at her. "Nobility ain't gonna save ya. And certainly not your high-falutin' brother Byakuya. Go against the order of things, an' the next thing you feel is a blade slidin' in here…"

His arm lanced out, fingers touching the spot on her chest where the _hakusui _rested. Rukia gasped.

"And here…"

Another swift jab, causing pain to blossom briefly in her _saketsu_. Gin withdrew his hand, leaving a dull throb in her sternum.

"It's part of the rules. If a captain takes offense, the only thing they gotta worry about is cleanin' off their sword and fillin' out the paperwork afterwards."

It was then that Gin reached down and withdrew the tanto-sized weapon at his hip from its sheathe.

Rukia froze.

"The guys who make the rules and win the battles are the only ones that matter. Rest'a you butterflies don't count. They only keep you around for window dressing. Like that manicured bush behind you."

He held the weapon up horizontally before his face, hooded eyes reflected in the length of steel. His lips peeled back from his teeth, bared in a feral grin.

"_Shoot, Shinso_!"

The blade launched outwards, growing meters in length. It exploded through the trunk of the cherry tree, only inches above Rukia's head. A low boom signaling the plant's destruction was brief and did not travel far.

The tiny girl remained seated in stunned fright. Around her now, pink sakura blossoms began to fall, resting in her lap and on her hair.

Shinso's shaft retracted. Ichimaru moved to sheathe his soul cutter.

"You remember that, Rukia Kuchiki. You division hang-ons are all just ornaments; and if need be, Yamamoto-Genryūsai'll tell his captains to prune ya. You can bet on that."

The smallest whimper emerged from her throat.

The silver-haired demon smiled broadly.

"Say, now that I think about it, you're not really in a division are you, Kuchiki-chan? Haven't even made it that far."

That dangerous mien took on a different shade of threat now, and he stroked his chin, leering at her.

"Y'know, Rukia-chan, when the time does come, I think the Third division might be a good place for you to start, don't you? We're all real friendly there. I know that I, personally, would just _love_ to have you working underneath me."

Against all odds, her skin now grew even more white. Like a sheet.

Ichimaru's heartless gaze flickered slightly, and he cocked his head to one side.

"Want to know how to beat the big bad bullies, Rukia-san?"

He dropped down, staring purposefully into her eyes. Rukia did not even dare to breathe.

"You find someone even stronger than them."

His breath was warm against her face.

"Those who feel the same as you do about how something needs to be done."

And Gin's eyes opened.

Just like that.

Rukia blinked, shock and amazement erasing all else from her features.

She had only a second to register that they were red, before Ichimaru spoke.

"_Shatter, Kyōka_ _Suigetsu._"

It was like a pane of glass suddenly burst into pieces right in front of her. Ichimaru Gin vanished. In his place stood another white-robed individual. These eyes were warm and dark, supremely engaging even when hidden behind a pair of spectacles. Short curly brown hair fell over his brow. In place of Gin's predatory features there was now kindness, and understanding. The smile on his lips held only a promise of trust and protection for all who might need it. At his hip, a zanpakutō reformed whole within its sheath.

Rukia stared into this saint's beatific visage. Her mouth worked slightly.

"How…?"

Before she could finish he drew closer. Robes rustling faintly, the heat and strength of his reiatsu was palpable now in this intimate space. The startled shinigami detected a scent both sharp and pleasant, like cinnamon.

He then leaned in, and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

The pale skin flushed crimson. Her heart began to pound violently within her breast.

While she was still trying to come to grips with all that had just happened, the feather-light touch of his mouth traveled along her skin to hover beside her ear. His breath came very faintly.

"Rukia-san."

Rukia shivered.

And he whispered a kido spell.

Inside the dish still clenched in her hand, the saké began to glow. At the same moment she felt warmth spreading through her stomach. Then her eyes were closing, breath slowing, heart rate subsiding. A second later, Rukia Kuchiki was fast asleep.

He caught her as she drifted off to one side, taking the cup before it could spill. Laying the delicate maiden gently to earth, her mysterious attendant stood up. He looked at her, then down at the dish in his hands, and smiled. Had she only taken one sip from the second flask he had poured with, the spell would have been neutralized, as it was for him. But knowing her relationship with Gin as he did, that had not been much of a risk.

There was movement behind him, and he turned.

Ichimaru Gin came across the bridge, smiling.

"You do her right, Aizen-taichou?"

Aizen Sōsuke, captain of the Fifth division, returned the smile. "She won't remember a thing about tonight. Minds are more easily distracted than hearts, after all."

His subordinate pouted. "Now, that's a cryin' shame. I had a lotta fun with her tonight. Really turned on the charm. S'too bad she won't be able to recall a word of it next time we meet."

"I think we both got a few things off our chests." He tucked the cup back into his sleeve. "I only wonder if she noticed any differences in our character whenever we switched places."

"Aw, go on!" his fukutaichou smirked. "You're too good for that. What I wanna know is if Rukia-chan's ever been in a three-way like this before."

Aizen's eyebrows raised slightly.

"Did they dispose of Hitsujikai?"

"Dropped 'im in the Western Rukongai. His old stomping grounds, as it were. Now who says Yamamoto ain't got no heart?"

Sōsuke adjusted his robes, glancing down at Rukia. "Perhaps I was a little too good this time. I only took the time to speak with her to give the crowd a chance to disperse. But Yoshi's words must have really touched something in this girl. Why else would she have come after him?"

"_Him?!"_ Ichimaru smirked. "Don'tcha mean _you_?"

"What's the difference now?" Aizen ran a hand through his hair. "I'm the only important part of him left. Soifon and her throat-slitters saw to that, and they certainly couldn't tell the difference between us. Not that they would have cared either way. I doubt our dour Second division captain would have made much distinction between a man who dared to engage in dissidence three times and not four. But Yoshi certainly did. He was ready to accept his punishment and go trotting off to join your squad."

"Real sorry to lose that one," the other captain drawled unconvincingly.

"He did the best he could. For a man of his character." Aizen's tone carried admonishment. "I just didn't like to see this story end on such a half-hearted note. So I had him take a nap, and put on a performance that let him go out with some dignity. Though I doubt he had the time to appreciate that after waking, considering that the Mobile Corps dispatched him before he could make it across the courtyard." He turned back to study Gin. "You did well, switching him in without anyone noticing."

"Happy to oblige!" His adjutant looked pleased with himself, but that was nothing new. "I take it Soifon didn't catch on, then."

"She followed you," the elder captain admitted. "But only for a short while. After the two of you came here, she went back to check on the cleanup. They finished sometime in the last ten minutes."

Gin's cheerful features turned now to the girl sprawled at their feet. "What about her? You want that I should…?"

Aizen caught the look, and shook his head. "No, thank you. I'll make sure she gets home safely."

Gin shrugged noncommittally. "Suit yourself. Good evening, Sōsuke-taichou."

"Good evening, Ichimaru-taichou."

Ichimaru flash-stepped away, and Aizen bent to pick up the slumbering girl from the slums of Rukongai. She hardly weighed anything. For a moment he paused to study her face. All the fear and confusion had drained away. This might be the first untroubled night's sleep she had known in years.

Small comforts, he thought to himself, and shot off at lightning speed.

Aizen Sōsuke reached the grounds of the Kuchiki manor in less than a minute. He greeted the guards posted at the gate, who let him by with only looks of mild surprise at seeing their mistress in the arms of a captain. While he was crossing the courtyard, a messenger must have been dispatched. Within moments the head of the family, Byakuya, came out to meet him.

His fellow commander's black eyes usually contained no warmth or human feeling of any kind. It was almost comical then the way they blazed for a moment to find his adopted sister being cradled by another man, even a captain. Aizen wondered briefly what the lord of the Kuchiki was thinking at this moment. Was it Rukia he saw there, or perhaps another?

"Sōsuke-taichou," Byakuya inclined his head formally.

He returned the gesture. "Kuchiki-taichou." Then to preempt further aggravation between them, he held out his charge.

Byakuya took her carefully, either from familial affection or to highlight his ability to accomplish even this with grace. "Would you please explain to me how you came to find her in this state?"

Suspicious, aren't we? "I'm sorry to say Rukia attended an impromptu officer's discourse at the academy tonight. It would seem they were discussing new trends in the modern world, and someone thought it would be funny to spike her tea, just to see what would happen. I was walking by after delivering a few lecture samples, and found her passed out by the hall. She wasn't mistreated in any way, and those responsible have already been disciplined, I assure you."

This time there was no hint of what Byakuya might be feeling. Any retribution he might wish to enact on behalf of his sister had been mitigated by the word of a fellow captain.

"Thank you for taking the time to see her home, Aizen-san. I hope you have not been too inconvenienced."

"Not at all," he waved a hand politely. "If you'll excuse me now, I really must be getting back to division headquarters. Good evening, Kuchiki-taichou."

"Good evening."

Aizen turned and strolled casually away. Behind him he could feel the aloof brother taking his sister off to rest. _You came personally, of course, your lordship, _he smiled to himself. _Wouldn't do to have any mere servant touching a member of the royal family, now would it?_

That was good to know.

The journey back to his offices was relatively uneventful.

* * *

_**Two years later**__._

"Kuchiki!" Lieutenant Shiba called. "We're leaving."

"I'll be right there." Rukia slipped her sandals back on, and bowed to the waitress. "It's good to see you're doing well."

"You too, my lady," the girl responded.

She colored slightly. "Thank you. Good day," and proceeded to follow her superior and the four other members of squad Thirteen out of the inn.

They strolled down the dirt road, chatting amiably. Kaien glanced back at her questioningly once, but Rukia only demurred.

"Just someone I met a few times in my youth, that's all."

He nodded briefly, choosing not to engage the matter further.

The group continued their lazy amble through the Forty-ninth district, when a commotion ahead drew their collective attention.

Some of the local youths were apparently having sport with a homeless man. They were shouting and kicking him. When the bedraggled figure tried to run, they chased him down and proceeded to rip his clothes, tearing them with mingled kicks and curses.

Beside Rukia, she could feel Kaien's reiatsu spike.

"HEY!" he bellowed in his drill-sergeant voice. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, YOU LITTLE SHITS?!"

They all turned at once. No doubt not a one of them had a feel for spirit power, but the black robes and soul cutters confirmed that they were in trouble. To a man, the pack scattered.

"You two!" Kaien pointed at the junior members. "With me! The rest of you, see to that person."

The lieutenant and his appointed attachés took off, leaving Rukia and the other two members with their task.

She was quicker, or possibly more concerned. In a few steps the shinigami aristocrat had reached the indigent's side.

"Sir? Are you injured? Did they hurt you?"

He remained crumpled in a defensive ball, face pressed to the dirt and hands wrapped around his head. Rukia spoke a brief kido, and healing light pulsed about her fingers. She pressed them against the man's naked back. He shuddered, but otherwise remained still. As she sought to undo some of the damage, Rukia's eyes drifted over to a pair of old scars on his upper torso. She frowned to herself. If this man had ever possessed any reiatsu to speak of, such injuries would have ruined him. They looked to be in about the same spots as his _hakusui_ and _saketsu_.

Soon she had done all she could. Rukia stood back up. One of the other shinigami, a girl, had stopped by a street-side clothing vendor's stall. She now came over with a newly purchased haori. "Here," the death god made her offering. "Please accept this."

At first he did not move. Then slowly, the beggar raised his arm, and took the proffered garment with trembling fingers. Draping the shirt over himself, he then went back to kneeling in the dirt, refusing to look at them.

Their two compatriots returned a brief while later, followed closely by their hot-blooded fukutaichou.

"Justice is served," he said matter-of-factly. Then, cocking a look at their ward, "Is he going to be all right?"

"Sir," Rukia spoke up then. "I think we're scaring him. It might be for the best if we just took our leave."

Kaien grunted. After a final glance to the huddled form, he motioned for them to proceed.

Rukia followed in her lieutenant's stead. After a few paces though, she chanced a look back.

In a rounded face, soft brown eyes that might once have been gentle peered out at her. Now they were filled only with fear. Upon meeting her gaze he broke eye contact swiftly, going back to huddling in the dirt.

She shook her head, feeling pity well up in her heart. But there was little she could do to help him. This was the way of the world, and no one could change that.

Didn't mean she had to like it, though.

Rukia Kuchiki walked away, back to the paradise of the gods of death.


	2. Kuchiki: Lords and Ladies

A blank sheet of paper. Pristine, serene, ready to be infused with life.

The pen raised, its bristles brimming with ink but not saturated. The fine line between excessive and insufficient. In common parlay, perfect.

He knew what he wanted to create here.

And yet, the artist had been disturbed.

"Captain Aizen, you say?"

"Yes, my lord." The majordomo knelt at the door to his room. "And, the lady your sister is with him. I thought it best that you should know."

Pen to the tray. Paper to the wastebasket. His creative mood had soured. He rose and swept effortlessly from his study.

"Have her servants roused. Do not disturb any more than are necessary."

"As you will, my lord."

* * *

"Thank you for taking the time to see her home, Aizen-san. I hope you have not been too inconvenienced."

"Not at all." The elder captain waved dismissively. Moonlight flashed off his spectacles. He then tucked his hands into the sleeves of his haori. "If you'll excuse me now, I really must be getting back to division headquarters. Good evening, Kuchiki-taichou."

_It was. Before you arrived._

"Good evening."

Aizen Sōsuke bowed and turned away.

Byakuya Kuchiki wasted no more time. He whipped around and strode determinedly back into the manor proper. The diminutive girl cradled in his arms shifted slightly, but gave no indication of waking anytime soon. Her brother frowned thoughtfully to himself. Perhaps it was for the best. Better Rukia not have the added shame of knowing this incident would be remembered by her brother in addition to the servants who would see to her slumbering form being readied for bed.

Truth be told, worry looked to be the thing farthest removed from her being right now. That was a surprise, for Rukia. Usually even when fast asleep, Byakuya could detect an undertone of unrest to her manner, the slight tension of brow and cheek muscles that told of troubled slumber. It meant that even when dead to the world, his adopted sister was wrestling with the demands placed upon her by her new noble family. It also occurred to Byakuya, briefly, that a cup of saké before bed might serve to alleviate some of this distress on her part. If all it took to make her sleep this soundly was some spiked tea, the real thing could prove even more refreshing. Heaven knows, Rukia could use the rest.

The head of the Kuchiki family paced down the darkened halls of his home, passing like a shadow between squares of moonlight let in from the open screen doors. Actually, the whole issue might prove problematic in its approach. Were he to broach the matter of her nighttime struggle with torpor, she was almost certain to ask how he came to know of this issue. Byakuya was not the sort of man to resort to lying. He would then have to admit that he checked in on her while sleeping almost nightly. There was no use in wondering what that would lead to. Disturbing rumors, at least. Perhaps a heart attack on Rukia's part. Worst case scenario, he mused to himself. She was much stronger than first appearances might lead one to believe. Still, the fact that his deceased wife's sister viewed him with a horror usually reserved only for Hollows was not lost upon her brother. Perhaps it was less a matter of the difference in their reiatsu, as he had first concluded, as it was an issue of familial conduct. Just how was one to behave with a younger sibling anyway? The Shiba patriarch, Kaien, was in the same situation, but Byakuya had never heard of him getting along with his little sister anyway other than harmoniously. Despite their fall from social grace, perhaps it might be worth discussing the matter with him. He would have to remember that.

By this time, the young lord had arrived at his destination. A servant girl drew aside the door at his approach. Upon entering, Byakuya found only one other maid in attendance. He gave them a perfunctory nod of approval, and proceeded to lay his sister on her sleeping mat.

When he raised his arms away, for the first time, Byakuya noticed something in her hair. Reaching down, he withdrew what appeared to be a sakura petal. As he did so Rukia stirred a fraction, before settling back into sleep. Her attentive elder rose and turned fluidly, paying no heed to the pair of abasing attendants. They knew what was expected of them without being told. It was one of the prides of his household that this be so. Be calm, be careful, be circumspect. And do not disturb their mistress' respite. In this house, everyone knew their duties.

The shinigami nobleman marched from the room. The door slid shut softly at his back. He made his way back to his own apartments, passing from one patch of moonlight to the next. If he were to go a little faster, he thought, it might be like running beneath the boughs of a forest on a summer's day. Going from darkness to bright light. Swift movement from one perch to the next. Dancing on air. Chasing. Fleeing. The endless pursuit.

Byakuya cupped the small pink blossom in his palm.

Remembering.

* * *

"I'm waiting, Your Highness."

The challenge floated through the leaves. Picking himself up from the earth, Byakuya let his tired muscles relax, and sprang.

His leap propelled him a hundred feet into the air. Leaves fluttered upwards from the back draft, but not a one could touch him. His shoes settled firmly onto the bark of a suitable branch. For a moment the young nobleman crouched on his perch, observing his surroundings. That was one of the lessons. Don't just go charging in. Judge the terrain. Get an idea of what might be perilous to you, and your opponent. Keep that in mind.

What he saw was a forest canopy. The boughs of trees spread out all around him, white birch and sycamore giving it an almost funereal aspect. Factor in the time of year, and you get a profusion of blood-red leaves adding their macabre touch to the mix. The sounds of this sylvan battleground reached his ears. Movement, conscious and unconscious life letting their presence be known for anyone who would hear them. Byakuya was awash in color, the bright light of the afternoon sun lancing through the brambles to pierce the shadows in dappled, ever-altering patterns. The heat from that solar giant was unmistakable on his skin, compared to the chill sweat that otherwise covered his slender frame. The band around his forehead prevented any perspiration from obscuring his vision. Another kept his hair done up in a topknot behind his head. Keen gray eyes that changed to black in the shadows now hunted the grove-top environs, while his more esoteric soul senses were hard at work attempting to pinpoint a place from which to start.

He got nothing.

But then Byakuya knew whom he was dealing with. It wouldn't take long.

The crimson tapestry about him rustled to the rhythm of wind and forest.

And from around the trunk of a tree there stepped a figure robed in black.

The Kuchiki prince felt his pulse heighten considerably.

Twenty feet away, Yoruichi Shihoin stood. One hand rested on the bark of her soaring seat; not for balance, he knew, more to feel the wood communicating what was happening all around her. The captain of the Second division had discarded her official white haori some miles back. Doing so confirmed that the usual baggy black training outfit had been stripped down topside, a sleeveless vest revealing her sleekly muscled arms and shoulders, in addition to highlighting the ample contents which gave shape to that garment. Byakuya saw medium-length violet hair that refused to be tamed, caramel-brown skin speaking of warmth not unlike that belonging to the sun; all this and more. Turned to one side, his teacher's profile was calm and thoughtful, almost serious. But that could never be the case. He believed that whole-heartedly.

Then Yoruichi's lion-gold gaze slid over to him, and her face split in a wicked grin.

He believed correctly.

"Did you have enough time to catch your breath?" The saucy minx bounced up and down on her deceptively slender footrest playfully. "I was starting to lose faith in your ability to trail behind me."

Wrath! Rage! Affront!

"I was not resting!" Byakuya swore, the breath feeling cold and sharp in his throat. "Your route had grown quite tedious, and I merely chose this time to submit to boredom's dictates, in the misguided hopes that someone of your advanced years would be able to come up with a more strenuous chase given the chance to catch your wits!"

"So it's my wits you're trying to catch! That explains everything. It certainly isn't this supple body, which has never once in all of our lessons felt your hands upon it." The regal lioness gave a shake of her hips, that smiling face dripping with sweet honeyed venom. There was not so much as a glimmer of sweat on Yoruichi's brow. "I think I'd remember that."

"Demon-cat!" her pursuer growled in imitation of the beast in question. "Today I'll make you eat those words, I swear!"

"Are words all you're going to put in my mouth? How disappointing." The lady of the house of Shihoin sighed heavily, eyes closed, features and shoulders slumping in dejection. "Young men these days just have no imagination. They assume everything comes at face value. It's terribly disappointing."

Her weakness was feigned. The whole posture, negligent to untrained eyes, was no sign of submission, but a gauntlet flung in his face. And the future lord of the house of Kuchiki did not decline the challenge. His reiatsu surged in a concentrated effort at his back and beneath his feet. The art of shunpō, instantaneous movement, propelled him at his lounging quarry faster than immortal eyes could follow.

"For instance…"

Yoruichi vanished.

"Assuming I hadn't cut through that branch I was just standing on."

Byakuya could only register the words as his foot came down. The wood cracked beneath his sandaled heel. He lost his balance, and in the blink of an eye, his intense flight devolved into a head-over-heels tumble towards the ground far below.

Where had all the branches gone, he wondered? It looked like this place was full of them, but now I find none are coming to hand. Did she cut all of them away before I even got up here?! I swear, he thought murderously as his acceleration only increased, when I survive this I am going to put a contract on that woman's life, on my mother's grave, I swe…!

A hand wrapped around his ankle, and the death-defying plunge came to an abrupt halt.

Hanging upside-down, Byakuya blinked in astonishment, then turned his head. Standing on the stump of a tree limb was Yoruichi, one arm extended to hold him dangling out over space. The look of boredom on her face was designed to let him know that not only could she keep this position up all day, but she was more than willing to do so if that was what it took to get the lesson across. For his part he just swung panting for a few breaths.

"So then." Suddenly her wrist twisted, the world spun around him. At the apex of his swing a hand snaked out to grasp a fistful of shirt front, and the student found himself slammed roughly face-first against the trunk of the colossal forest king. A warm body then pressed firmly against his back, and Byakuya was distracted from his brush with death by a reminder of the differences in their gender and physical makeup. His toes stretched to the limit to find purchase on Yoruichi's. Their current position left him with no room or inclination to maneuver when her mouth came down to his ear.

"You can be tired. That's only natural. Out of the goodness of my heart, I will even allow you to be angry. Hate me if you must, Byakuya-kun. But…" The boy's right wrist was swiftly wrenched around his back, causing his shoulder to protest this treatment volubly. Byakuya cried out in pain and helpless vexation.

"On no accounts," the Goddess of Flash hissed, "will I permit you to be stupid! For whatever reason. So there were no branches to grab onto? There were leaves. And twigs. Anything to slow your descent, to break your fall to some degree. You didn't even bother to think of that, did you?" There was honest rage in her voice now, priming her words and her muscles with savage intensity that burned through their clothes into his skin. Then she drew away from him slightly, the blaze of reiatsu still announcing her presence to his senses. "Were I not here you might be hurt or worse. I am not training you to wind up dead. That is reserved for your opponent. Is everything I am saying getting through to you, Byakuya Kuchiki?"

Pinned to a tree and unable to fight back, his first response was to spit an insult. _The only reason I fell was _because _you were here, witch! What gives you the right to treat me this way?!_ As stated, that was the initial idea, the retort of a proud and pampered prince brought low in the eyes of his tutor. Two years ago, that was exactly what would have come out of his mouth. But another aspect of his personality had started to emerge while engaging in the development of supernatural speed that this fleet-footed valkyrie insisted upon. Submission. Not in the way he was familiar with, to rules and social hierarchy, but to purposefully and honestly demonstrated admission of inequality in some aspects. Contrition. Not for the sake of sparing himself further abuse, but to reveal that he was aware of what she was trying to do with him and appreciated it. This was the side of Byakuya Kuchiki that spoke next, teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut.

"I regret my haste in admitting defeat, Yoruichi-sensei. If you give me the chance, I will reveal just how dearly I would like to triumph over you today."

The humbled apprentice felt the furnace at his rear begin to die down. His arm was released, and he brought it up to join its mate in anchoring himself more securely to his perch.

Of a sudden Yoruichi's mouth came aside of his own. Her rich, smooth voice was like a silken noose whispering across his throat.

"I'll make you eat your words, little Byakuya."

And she bit his ear, teeth digging in enough for the barest thrill of pain.

Byakuya's eyes widened, lips pressing together in a stiff line. Then the pressure was gone, and Yoruichi sprang away.

His feet scrabbled desperately for purchase on the miniscule stump, finding it at last. Steaming in the cool air, the royal scion turned to find his mentor swinging from a branch fifty feet away, legs pumping in rhythm, her grin daring him to proceed.

The answering smile that came to his face was positively chilling.

"I am ready to commence when you are, sadistic vixen."

She laughed.

"GO!"

And vanished.

He took off in hot pursuit.

A race between Byakuya and Yoruichi was akin to courtship. She would outdistance him, and then it was his job to catch up. Once he had made the effort, revealing himself as worthy, he was rewarded by a brief glimpse of the object of his desire. Only this, and nothing more. The courtship had never been consummated. Time and again, this dynamic lady proved to her pursuer her worth in bearing the title 'Goddess of Flash.' There was simply no catching Yoruichi. Not if she was six inches in front of you, as she sometimes remained while he yearned for his outstretched fingers to grow half a foot in two seconds, or half a mile, which could occur immediately after the aforementioned closeness. She was a ghost, seemingly beyond his ability to reach.

Still, Byakuya was no fool. Fraternization among the four noblest families in Seireitei was not uncommon. But for a ranking captain, multiple division head and heavenly noblewoman to devote her time and interest to his training, there had to be something more. And the trainee felt he had come to know a bit about his distinguished sensei. If she was putting in the effort here, then it meant she saw a potential in him that few could lay claim to. She knew that he could be faster, smarter, more daring. He would have to be, if he hoped to inherit the hereditary title of Sixth division head now held by his grandfather. Byakuya's own father had not been able to meet the grade. Instead he had been passed over, forced to content himself with a position among the Central 46 Chambers, the body that oversaw the legal and judicial aspect of Soul Society. Their word was paramount, overriding even the Commander-General of the 13 Division Imperial Guards, if you could actually believe it. But always, Byakuya had detected a twinge of self-disappointment in his esteemed sire's manner. The only child of his parents' union was determined to not find himself in the same position.

And so they danced, coursing beneath the treetops like hounds let off the leash. At times it seemed to the pursuing noble that his quarry was skipping from one falling leaf to another, her weight indiscernible on their fluttering path to the ground. He was not stupid enough to let his fantasies bring him to attempt the same feat. Yoruichi wanted him to think as well as grow. Her laughter, taunting word-play, and exercise of vastly superior footwork were merely the goads she had deemed necessary to break the young prince past whatever barriers his upbringing or self-perception had imposed upon himself. And true to form, it worked. When she cast her leopard-yellow gaze back these days, it was to note with smiling satisfaction how Byakuya had improved throughout the years. Not simply in speed and power, but in determination and creativity, tackling the problems she threw at him with superb intellect. Once you broke the ice on the surface, Byakuya Kuchiki could certainly surprise you.

Fleeing from his grasp, Yoruichi smirked. She herself was well-known for giving people surprises. Time to make that evident once more.

Focusing on the nimble female flickering in and out of his perceptions, her ivory-skinned pursuer was shocked by a sense of sudden and immediate danger. This came just as his feet touched the trunk of a beech tree which Yoruichi had previously vacated, wisely choosing to avoid the precise spot she had touched down on. But even as one potential trap was avoided, another was revealed.

Beneath the soles of his shoes, the wood grew red-hot. A flash of soul-power was all the warning Byakuya got as the sleeping kido spell inscribed into the wood erupted with a destructive bang.

The force in such a spell was intentionally minimal, being directed mostly inward than outward. In battle, such a tactic was done mainly to trip up the enemy; get them to concentrate on their footing instead of you, so they won't see the sword-point bearing straight between their eyes. In this case, that was only partially the effect it imbued. Byakuya did indeed lose his balance. But having been crouched in an unusual horizontal angle to begin with, he dismissed regaining his footing immediately. Instead his left palm slapped down to grip the previously suspicious branch, giving him a brief moment of control. As he suspected, the impact caused the branch to break clean off in his hand. However, he already had everything he needed.

Still clutching the now-disembodied limb, the shinigami prince twisted in midair. His heels connected with the wood, and using only that momentary purchase, the aspiring master acrobat was able to launch himself forward in a blaze of shunpō. The distance he could travel was nowhere near his usual effort. But he was not striving to impress anyone here, only breach the distance between himself and a more sure seat from which to continue his pursuit. And in this, he was rewarded with success.

Or rather, almost rewarded.

As Byakuya stretched out his hand to grasp a hanging bunch of leaves, something on the edge of his vision streaked in and catapulted into him.

The force of the attack tore them both through the slender boughs of the forest like a flaming meteor. The young noble's breath was knocked out of him, as leaves whipped his face and branches tore his clothes. Then, just as he managed to draw a bit of air into his lungs, they slammed into something, drawing to an abrupt halt.

Byakuya stared upwards, dazed. He registered sunlight piercing a leafy red bower directly above him. His body was aching with thwarted exhilaration and inertia. And beneath him, there was a surprisingly solid and broad expanse of flat surface, more than enough for him to stretch out comfortably, if he was in any state of mind to do so. Which he was not. Gasping for breath took priority here.

Before his watering eyes, the twinkling lights from above were blocked off by a familiar smirking visage.

Yoruichi grinned cheekily down at him.

"Very well done, Byakuya-kun. You really impressed me back there. So much, in fact, I had to let you know it right away." She winked in catlike splendor.

His chest continued to rise and fall, rise and fall.

In between one gasp and the next, his gray eyes blazed, and the words erupted from his raw throat.

"BAKUDO 69!! SILVER TONGUE STRIKING GLLLLRRMPHH!!!!!"

The last part of the kido spell was cut off, as Yoruichi bent down and covered his mouth with her own.

Byakuya froze.

There were several things slowly becoming apparent to his beleaguered brain. First off, he couldn't breathe. Next, that was no longer very important. The lithe seductress was now pressing the full length of her body against his, but that was really nothing new. What was certainly unprecedented here was that he was touching Yoruichi. Not just through their clothes, but skin to skin. And other parts of the body that had not occurred to him before. Her soft brown lips were surging against his own. The tongue formerly used only for reprimand and teasing had graduated to enticement, slipping into his open mouth to caress its mate trapped within. The response he gave back was equal parts shock and never-before-realized rapture. He was kissing Yoruichi. It was real. Not a dream. His dreams never even got this far. Byakuya's hands came up, and she seized them within her own, fingers lacing together, bringing them both slowly down to rest against the surface beneath them. The deep, carnal display of emotion continued for several heart-poundingly long seconds.

Then Yoruichi pulled back slightly, and she could feel through his chest the air rushing back into her student's lungs. Byakuya lay heaving beneath her, staring at his smiling mentor with complete astonishment. The surprise in his face was total.

The cat goddess rubbed herself against the pale prince, tracing a finger along his jaw.

"See?" she whispered, and laid a brief kiss on the tip of his nose. "I told you I'd make you eat your words."

At last the supine aristocrat seemed to regain his breath, if not his composure. He still continued to gaze wide-eyed at the woman who, only moments ago, he had thought he was beginning to understand.

"Yo… Yoruichi…sensei, I…"

"Shhh." She raised her finger to cover his lips. When he stilled, she gazed intently down at him, golden eyes smoldering. "Byakuya-san, I believe I have made my feelings regarding this situation quite clear. And no, before you can think to ask, you do not have a concussion, and I have not lost my mind. Now, unless the next words out of your mouth are to tell me that you are not in the slightest way interested in anything beyond a student-teacher relationship in regards to us…"

She removed her slender digit from the lordling's trembling mouth.

"I do not want to hear any further discussion on the matter."

Shihoin peered down at her catch inquisitively. The fingers on Byakuya's free hand twitched. A shudder went through his whole frame. He seemed to be waiting for something, for a sign that this was a joke, or for the entire scene to dissolve before his eyes.

When none of this happened, he raised his arm tentatively, and gently touched his fingertips to Yoruichi's cheek.

She did not disappear. Nor did she laugh at him and turn into a cat.

Instead she closed her eyes, and placed her own warm hand over his, deepening the caress.

At this Byakuya came suddenly up. There was hesitation when he felt her faint breath warm against his skin. But in the next instant he was beyond that, and placed his lips firmly, defiantly, against the nape of her smooth flowing throat.

His queen of speed sucked in air hungrily, and dove forward.

The next few hours were the most intense sessions of lovemaking Byakuya would ever know. In no time they had abandoned their training clothes. The bower in which they lay was formed by an interweaving of branches that seemed too useful to be natural. During one of the infrequent stops for air, Yoruichi admitted to having coaxed them along in the past, at the same time acknowledging that they were primarily designed for concealment from prying eyes and not for seducing young princes. In spite of this, the structure held up quite well, even considering the forceful physicality that ensued. She was allowed to slowly run her fingers through his sable locks, the wet silken texture sending a thrill down her spine. He was permitted to stroke her legs gently, those long, supple, muscular limbs that always before had served to keep her out of his reach. No longer. They each came to know the taste of the other's skin. When Yoruichi drew her mouth up his sternum, Byakuya gave a startled gasp of laughter.

She looked up at him slyly. "What?"

In response he grinned, crossing his hands behind his head.

"I always thought cats had rough tongues."

An excited gleam entered the eyes of the shape-shifter.

"Oh," she murmured heavily, "You want for me to get rough with you. Is that what you're telling me?"

After this, foreplay was over.

When they finally drew to a halt, Yoruichi Shihoin lay breathing deeply with Byakuya Kuchiki wrapped tightly in her embrace. The nobleman was out of breath now for a different reason. His back was covered in pale red scratches. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, letting the combined trip-hammer of their hearts be the only movement allowed between them. Their bodies shone with heat and perspiration in the bright light.

When several minutes had passed, and the blood was no longer pounding in his ears, Byakuya mumbled something.

"What was that, Byakuya?" his lover sighed.

His head came up, and Yoruichi swore she had never seen a bigger grin on this boy's face in her life.

"I finally got you to break a sweat."

She smirked, debating whether or not to point out the caveat to his victory. But instead the young woman gave him a light kiss on the mouth, and drew him back down to pillow against her chest.

As she stroked his hair idly, Byakuya heard and felt an unusual sound. There was no denying it. Yoruichi was purring. It was knowing this, and the feeling it generated within him as well, that let him finally know it was all right to succumb to exhaustion, and he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

It did not end for them there.

For all outward appearances, the relationship between the favored son of the Kuchiki and his audacious instructor remained only barely civil. Emotions remained quite high. He was still wont to refer to her as a 'cat-witch' in front of the servants, and she took unbridled delight in teasing him any way she could possibly conceive. Byakuya never stopped trying to surpass Yoruichi, nor did the royal maiden of the Shihoin attempt to draw a halt to his education. All that happened was a marked change in the course of his studies once shunpō training was deemed closed. It was then that the passion they chose to hide from their respective families and the world was allowed to come to the fore. Before this could happen, however, Kuchiki was determined to keep his mind from wandering to the end of their lessons. Almost as much as Yoruichi seemed intent on using her new weapon to distract him. The first time Byakuya noticed articles of her clothing lying on the ground during a pursuit, he almost ran straight into a cliff face. Their love was something that answered a question for both of them. This was how it truly felt. He was the person she wanted to please more than anyone, and the same was true for him. When both felt this way, and accepted it, it made for remarkably more happiness in their lives.

To be sure, there were obstacles. At times, lying in each others' arms, they would talk about what lay ahead for them. The future. They did not need to argue like newlyweds. Such displays were reserved for less thoughtful, patient individuals. He still intended to take up his grandfather's position, and finally allow the old man some time to rest. They would then be equals in the eyes of Seireitei. She had many people for whom she felt responsible, and wished to see them all safe. When the time came, it would be possible to reveal the feelings they held for each other to the world. After that it was a matter of out-running or out-fighting those who chose to have a dispute with it. Neither of the lovers was lacking in confidence that this could all be resolved.

When Byakuya's father died, it came as a shock to everyone concerned. The future patriarch of their house had not exhibited anything other than sound health. He passed away at work without any warning. His own father supposed that he had pushed himself too hard, trying to deal with all the problems of Soul Society as though they were his own. Certain capital decisions handed down by that body had also weighed heavily on his shoulders, Byakuya knew. More than once he had heard the two previous generations of his house conversing quietly in a study, and his father agonizing over the loss of several gifted shinigami. He had been forced to meet those men and women in their final hours, to hear their desperate pleas, and subsume his own sympathies as the laws of Soul Society mercilessly pronounced their death sentences. There were also the cases of imprisonment, which might have done even more harm than the executions. Knowing that those people were still living out there, in the detention facilities of the Second division, forever denied from achieving any kind of productive existence; Byakuya himself did not care to think of it, and his father was a gentle man at heart. One who had died before his time. His son remained dry-eyed throughout the entire funeral. He watched his grandfather stand far too close to the funeral pyre, and let all those around say that it was the heat that brought tears to the old man's eyes. Watching his only remaining child pass beyond the reach of even his powerful arms, to be reborn one day in the living world without any memory of what he had been.

After the ceremony, Byakuya and Yoruichi met. Their affair that night was almost violent from his grief and anger. She gave him all the comfort she could, and the parentless child fell asleep weeping in her arms. Yoruichi did not sleep at all.

Less than a decade later came the incident that shook Soul Society to its foundations. Four shinigami captains and their lieutenants were effectively destroyed in one fell swoop. Two more of captain-rank were accused of having conspired to achieve their destruction. One of them was Yoruichi's hand-picked replacement to lead the Twelfth division. He was sure to be sentenced to death. She was certain of his innocence in this affair, but the Central 46 would hear none of it. They knew the truth here. _They_ knew everything. An example needed to be made before anyone, real or imagined, could think of taking advantage of this reduction by half of their martial power to try and move against them. And Byakuya knew, somehow, that his lover would not stand to see this man summarily executed for a crime he did not commit.

However, this did not prepare him for what came next.

The accused was freed by an unknown assailant. When he first heard the news, Byakuya Kuchiki felt himself go numb. _No_, he pleaded. _Please don't let it be her. Please, Yoruichi, my love, don't let them take you away from me. They'll kill you now. It's all they know how to do, damn them._

Confirmation was brought to him later that day, the messenger having no idea just how much hurt he inflicted with this duty. Later on, Byakuya went out and tore through the hills around the Rukongai where they had trained, seeking some sign, some clue to his master and lover's whereabouts. Perhaps she had left him a message, in a place that only he would think to look. The spot where they first made love. The waterfall where he admitted out loud his feelings for her. In all of them, he found nothing. Yoruichi Shihoin had vanished completely from the land of the dead.

When Byakuya returned that night, he was called to his grandfather's study, to be questioned by a gimlet-eyed girl from the Mobile Corps. A mutual distaste seemed to develop between them on sight, neither being aware of why. When he had assured all gathered that he had no idea where the captain of the Second division might be, the weary prince returned to his quarters. He did not find a note stuck in the pockets of his yukata, or slipped between the folds of his sheets.

Instead, when Byakuya Kuchiki opened the door of the cabinet that held his parents' images, he saw something out of place.

Two ceremonial blades rested on the level beneath those drawings, as they had for many years. One was a long sword handed down through the clan for generations, a work of art that could serve no martial purpose. The second was a wakizashi about half the other blade's length. It too held the rank of family heirloom. Or rather, it should have. As Byakuya stared in consternation, he realized that this slight weapon was not the one he had observed during his prayers so often before. That one had been replaced in its sheathe by a different tool. When he reached out to touch it, the handle warmed beneath his fingertips. And so he knew.

The prince closed the door of his ceremonial altar and went to bed. He did not withdraw that steel implement in search of a message written somewhere on its guard or hidden in its hilt. Its presence served as all the information he needed.

_Byakuya._ _Hold onto this for me. I won't need it now, but I trust you to keep it for when I do._

It was her way of telling him goodbye.

That night, the future ruler of the house of Kuchiki went to sleep with no one in the world able to give him comfort.

* * *

He opened the door to his own quarters, and passed inside. The blossom fell from his hand as he did so, to be carried away on the evening breeze. For a time Byakuya stood in the shaft of moonlight, debating what he wanted to do. Go to bed now and get a full night's sleep, or try and salvage something productive from this evening. One was sensible. The other was what he wanted to do.

Perhaps it was the line of thought that he had been pondering before which led him to retake his seat at the low desk. Withdrawing a fresh sheet of paper, the artist tacked it down securely. He scraped his ink stone across the black block, working up his medium. Byakuya then selected a brush of finely honed outline. Not a single bristle stuck out of place.

He stared down at the blank canvas.

What would be his inspiration? What was he thinking right now, and feeling?

Irritation. His evening and reputation had been exposed to the vagaries of another shinigami captain. Relaxation. He was back in his sanctum now, and nothing would be further disturbing him (he hoped). Intensity. There were several thoughts and ideas rumbling in the back of his head, some of which he had been pondering for quite a while. Whatever he drew on this surface would have to reflect that charged arsenal of formative zest.

Concern.

Rukia had almost come to some harm tonight.

There.

Byakuya dipped his pen into the ink blotch, and proceeded to draw a line down the page.

* * *

"Who wrote that?"

The bureaucrat stopped, startled to find that there was no longer anyone at his side. Looking back, he found the son of his division head gazing intently at a sign posted on the wall. He hastily made his way back to join him.

"I beg your pardon, my lord?"

Byakuya Kuchiki did not look at his assistant. Instead he only continued to gaze intently at the plain-seeming calligraphy.

"Where did we get this from?" His voice was low and flat. The bureaucrat suppressed a shiver. Was someone about to lose their lives over a poorly-held brush? It was no secret that the heir apparent of the Kuchiki name was an ardent lover of calligraphy. Byakuya's own works were considered on par with the disciples of masters, if not the masters themselves. Glancing once more at the piece in question, he studied its composition. The art of the brush was something of a hobby that he shared with his lordship. Perhaps the only thing they had in common. Given the way the young noble tended to look at him, when he could be bothered to do so, sometimes made the paper-pusher feel as though he was about to be summarily executed for some perceived infraction. Now it could be another person's neck in the noose.

Except he could detect no cause for it. In his own admittedly amateur opinion, the work was very well done. Clean and sure; he could imagine the effort he himself would have had to make in crafting those lines, keeping his arm from trembling, worrying about when to lift the brush from the page. There was no evidence of such consternation here. Truthfully, he would have been bursting with pride to create something so fine.

_Meeting in progress._ _Please do not disturb._

That was what it said.

"Kuchiki-sama, if you like, I can make inquiries as to the provenance of this piece once the meeting is concluded. Let me find out when that might be, and I…"

Byakuya swept by him, into the supposedly private conference.

His underling winced in anticipation of impending screaming. Should have known waiting would not strike the prince as very noble. Now they would have something of a situation on their hands.

He steeled himself for the worst. Even on the best of days, the Shinigami Women's Association did not take kindly to disruption of their meetings.

One way or another, there would be hell to pay.

* * *

She had just completed another piece in the back, when the vendor stuck his head past the curtain.

"Doing all right here?"

The artist laid down her brush, mustering a smile for his benefit.

"Very good, sir. Thank you for asking. This one is pleased to be of service to you."

He nodded quickly. The man was uncharacteristically solemn this afternoon. Earlier he had been much more cheerful. Perhaps the sales had not gone so well. She had been shut up back here working since morning, she realized. It would soon be time for tea.

"Hey, listen," the vendor spoke, tugging on his short chin whiskers anxiously as he did. "There's a shinigami outside looking at your stuff."

"Ah." Well, that was no cause for alarm, surely. A death god passing by their shop in the artists' district of the Thirteenth ring was not so unusual. Just a few days before, two female shinigami had purchased one of her signs. Perhaps they had recommended her work to a colleague.

Her business partner cast a glance back over his shoulder. As he did, she caught sight of a sheen of perspiration on his face.

"Well, he… he says he'd like to speak with you."

The painter grew still.

Then she came to her feet.

"Just a moment, please. This one will be right out."

The man withdrew, and his partner bent to her instruments. Placing the brushes into plates of water so as not to let the bristles harden, next she stacked the pages she had intended to work on carefully back in their sheaf. As she did, she noticed that her hands were trembling slightly. That was all it took. The possibility of a threat. Even if it turned out to be nothing, she could tell that there would be no more work done today. Her nerves simply wouldn't permit it.

When all had been arranged neatly and orderly as was her wont, the artist went out to face her public.

As it turned out, her public consisted of just one person. To be sure, a crowd had gathered around the stall. But they were keeping their distance from the potential bloodbath. Couldn't look away, or leave, for fear of what might happen. Everyone had cleared a respectful ten paces away from the individual standing in sunshine at the front of their booth. He was gazing intently at one of the color paintings, a woman in mourning robes sitting alone on the floor of her house, emptiness all around. One of her favorites. A very traditional ideal, but the painter had been proud to capture the feeling of grief so adeptly in her choice of colors and lines.

It was while she was remembering this rare sense of worth that the shinigami looked up and fixed her with his deep gray eyes.

What she saw in those depths made her suddenly remember her place. The young woman sank to her knees in obeisance, placing her forehead on the dry boards. She awaited his permission to speak. In that time, the calligrapher also became aware that a specific picture of this man's face had been etched exactingly into her creative brain. The eyes for certain, to start with. They were spellbinding, betokening intelligence and studious observation of the world around him. She got the feeling that he would make a great artist. His skin was very pale, like parchment, or perhaps ivory. The bones of his face were strong, perfectly proportioned and delicately crafted. If the word regal should ever apply, it was here. Hair as black and glistening as the eyes of a raven streamed about his shoulders and in two locks across his brow. She found herself wishing that she could have created something this wondrous before on canvas. Taken all together, the abeyant painter had to conclude that there could not be a man more majestic in this world or the previous one.

"You are the artist in question."

A statement. No need for confirmation. Should she speak out just the same? Would doing so be considered rude, or might remaining quiet be deemed an affront? In the stillness of the street, the woman knew herself to be completely isolated, with no help forthcoming either way. She shivered, dread working its way through her veins like poison. A brief murmur went through the crowd. Would they get to see a decapitation? News to tell the family tonight.

"I am impressed with your quality of work."

I'm sorry?

More time passed.

Eventually, the slender maiden found some wavering bits of courage. While remaining face-down, she spoke.

"This one is pleased to be so acknowledged by a personage such as yourself, your lordship."

Silence.

She closed her eyes shut. Had that been a mistake? If so, it would be her last.

There was the sound of someone shifting their feet faintly.

"I would like to purchase this painting. And the symbol for 'home' that you made."

Customer. _Not_ executioner. Very, very grateful.

"This one thanks you for your patronage, sire."

Heart-rate subsiding. A noise betokening payment being exchanged. The following movement might be a sign that the merchant was wrapping up the items in question for delivery. Soon now this whole incident would be in the past. When it was over, she was going to have a cup of saké. In thanks for still being alive.

"If you would rise, that would not be remiss."

No, not done yet. Seemingly there was more to his presence here. Just what else would she have to part with in order to make it through this day?

The young woman lifted her head off the floor. In spite of this, her eyes continued to evade the form in front of her. She did not really want to give any impression one way or another. That wouldn't be right. All the artist desired right now was to be allowed to return to her meager living, to paint yet another day in well-deserved isolation.

Absently the thought came: if I am permitted to live, what would I like to paint with the life I am given?

When the answer came to her, she felt that she had no choice. As an artist, it was necessary to give herself a better notion of what she was trying to create.

And so with that decision reached, she looked back into the shinigami's face and met his eyes.

He did not look angry, the calligrapher decided. If anything, he seemed to be studying her just as she was doing with him. It made her very self-conscious of a sudden. Her own inky hair was kept tidy, if not exactly fashionable, slipping down to brush the shoulders of her plain blue kimono. Black eyes usually hooded in submission, or perhaps dejection, gazed determinedly now at a man whose like she had never seen before, and probably never would again.

One thing she knew for certain. If given the opportunity to paint this face, she would be certain to put her whole heart into it.

He spoke.

"It is my understanding that the artists take afternoon tea around this time. If you would not be inconvenienced, might I ask you to join me?"

She would use her best ink to highlight his hair. A soft smudge of charcoal might be enough to get started on the eyes. Now about his mouth…

Hold on.

Go back a pace.

She gave a start.

"Milord…?"

He continued to watch her patiently.

Striving to retain some semblance of composure, the artist blinked uncomprehendingly at a world that suddenly made no sense.

"Sir, you… wish to share tea with me?"

"Yes." Simple. Direct. Unprecedented.

Oh.

Well…ah…you see…I…

She glanced away, then cautiously let him creep back into her field of vision.

Refusal?

What for?

I want to know.

"This one would be most pleased to be in his lordship's company this afternoon."

So there.

He gave a brief nod, and then extended a hand to help her up.

Climbing back to her feet, with the excited whisperings of the crowd all about them, the artist finally realized something she had neglected.

"Might this one have the honor of knowing whom she is addressing?"

The shinigami released her hand, and took a step back.

"I am Byakuya Kuchiki."

And he bowed.

Kuchiki.

Royalty, noble house, shinigami, masters, ancient, honor, divine.

It occurred to her that it might be wise to make a donation of the paintings to him. However, he had already paid. To return his money would definitely show discourtesy.

"You do my work much respect, Lord Byakuya." Her voice sounded very faint.

Apparently he had no trouble hearing, for she could detect the faintest whisper of a smile at the corner of his lips.

"It deserves that on its own merits, my lady."

A servant bearing the two paintings drew up behind him. Byakuya nodded to signal his permission to withdraw, and then turned to regard the young woman once again.

"And how am I to address you, great artist?"

She was blushing. It was certain. The heat in her cheeks and the snickers from the crowd told her that much.

But she was also smiling.

"This one is called Hisana, Your Grace."

* * *

What drew Byakuya to Hisana was not the same driving passion that had brought him together with his first love.

It was better described as an absence of feeling.

When he looked at the lettering on the wall that day, Byakuya had been struck by an impression of isolation. He was a master calligrapher, able to detect telling signs of the hand behind any work. The person who made that piece had done so with the impression that they were totally alone in the world. There was no one else who could offer them comfort, or relief. They held the pen as though it could grant them peace; like by the intrusion of black ink on white paper, they were drawing something meaningful out of the void that was their life.

When he looked into that printed message, it was like staring into a mirror.

He could see eyes gazing back at him, observing his desolation and sense of loss. The soul of the artist reached out through this image. The solitary prince could not explain it any other way. A connection was made with someone he had never even met.

In witnessing the very same loneliness he himself had endured for so long, Byakuya could find no worth in allowing something like this to continue. He had to bring it to an end, for both of their sakes. He had not known at the time whether the person behind that writing was male or female, young or old, weak or strong. But he wished to meet them, and in so doing, perhaps end the fruitless trek that had prevented him from accomplishing any of his former goals for the last four decades.

Upon first meeting his future wife, the brooding nobleman was certain that there could be no figure as tragic as the one before him. Bowing meekly in the face of possible death, Hisana had made no effort to find aid or mercy. She had been prepared to accept whatever abuse or violence anyone was willing to inflict on her. It was in witnessing this behavior from someone he had felt a connection with that the Kuchiki noble realized something. The two of them were not the same. She was behaving as though she were willing to die, whereas he acted as though he already had. It was this outlook that led so many of his acquaintances to whisper behind his back that Byakuya Kuchiki was a heartless man, completely divorced from anything resembling enjoyment or good humor.

It is never an easy thing to come to grips with the fact that you have become a monster, offering discomfort and recrimination to everyone in your life, no matter how much they might care for you. Existing only for your own anger and sense of thwarted loss. At this moment he realized that he could not remember one time in the last four decades when he had done something decent for another living soul. No random acts of kindness, or unexpected gifts outside of special occasions. He had never thought upon viewing a painting that someone besides himself might appreciate receiving it, and proceeded to purchase it for them. The boy who had once taken pride in fulfilling the pact of love others placed within him had let that sense die over the years.

Upon reaching this conclusion, it became readily apparent that there was someone right in front of him who needed help now. A person with worth and talent, who denied herself the most basic identity in the face of hardship. She deserved to be treated with respect. And the plethora of social taboos he was courting were consciously discarded in favor of providing support where it was so obviously a necessity.

Byakuya Kuchiki would forever remember this moment, not as the day he fell in love, but as the first time in ages his actions had brought a smile to someone else's face.

And later on in their relationship, Hisana was thrilled to return the favor.

* * *

"Are you ready?"

The blindfold covered his eyes.

"I am, my lord."

But the brush was still between his fingers.

"On the count of three, then."

The small horsehair plume slid over the wet ink stone, soaking up its load.

"One…two…"

He heard her giggle.

"Three!!"

Byakuya's brush swept down. He felt it touch the paper, and he was off. Something simple, and swift. The ink couldn't last long! But he was almost there, almost…

"Done!"

Instantly he reached up and ripped off the blindfold. Seated before him, Hisana had already done the same with her own. In the other hand she held a sheet of drawing parchment. Her smile was radiant. And true to her word, the symbol was complete.

In a manner of speaking.

Her admirer studied the work with a very critical air.

"Is that… 'tour guide?'"

"Tou…!" She gaped. The sight always made him smile. "No, it's supposed to be 'butterfly.' Can't you see that?"

Hisana held the kanji symbol closer, as if he were farsighted.

"Do you see it now?"

Byakuya only shut his eyes, shaking his head and quaking to restrain his mirth. His gentle-eyed houseguest gave the paper a shake, to emphasize her intent. Then she let it drop.

"As you say, my lord. Might I be so bold as to ask what you chose to write?"

His eyelids slid up. The future lord of the manor then knelt with exquisite grace and care to bring his own work up for her to see clearly.

Hisana stared quizzically for a few moments, mouth working to try and pronounce her judgment into words. She cocked her head to one side a bit, and fixed her host with an astonished look.

"You… drew a rabbit."

"What?!" Byakuya blinked, flipping the sheet around to study its contents. He then inverted it once more for her sake. "No, it's 'dream!' See? That says 'dream.' The meaning is very clear."

She covered her mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking, eyes scrunching tight. He glowered in mock indignation. At the sight of this, Hisana hastily withdrew her fingers. Letting them settle back into her lap, she composed herself into a most presentable and proper stance.

"No. I'm sorry to disappoint you, my lord. But what you have there is definitely the picture of a rabbit."

Byakuya looked at it once more. "Ah." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It would appear to be so." Then the shinigami cast an inquiring glance at the painter. "Would you consider buying this work, if you were in the market?"

Hisana smiled benignly and closed her eyes, giving a negative shake of her head.

"I would have to pass it by, my lord of Seireitei."

"Hmm." He mumbled, still pretending to study his aborted effort. At last he flicked a glance over to her once again. "Since that is the case, there was one other offer I wished to propose today that I hope will be more to your liking."

She reached down and took hold of her teacup, blowing on the contents gently before taking a sip. "I am at your service, my lord. Whatever you require."

"In that case…"

Byakuya took the brush from her tray, still wet with ink. Withdrawing another blank sheet, he very carefully and meticulously began to write. Hisana watched all this with curiosity, enjoying her splendid tea and the even more enthralling sight of her princely compatriot absorbed in his work.

A few seconds later, it was complete, and Byakuya leaned back up, turning the page to let her see what he had done.

Hisana placed her teacup on the floor, much to her host's relief. He had feared the occasion might be marred should she drop it on herself.

She read the word he had written.

And gave a slight gasp.

Her mouth hung open. Amazement and disbelief warred in her face as she turned questioning eyes back to the man seated before her.

_Marriage._

That was what it said.

"Hisana-san," he spoke tenderly, cherishing the sound of her name. "I wish to spend the rest of my life with you in it, for I know myself to be in love with all of your graces and even your faults, whatever they may prove to be. I, Byakuya Kuchiki, am asking to be your husband, and for you to be my wife. Will you have me as your partner?"

She sat speechless.

In a year, Hisana had gone from living in a tiny shack at the back of her rented shop in Rukongai, to being a guest at the estate of the most prominent clan in all of Seireitei. Byakuya's aesthetic interest in her talents had given way to an appreciation of her company and spirit. She had assumed he looked on her as a close acquaintance of the family, and perhaps more personally as a friend. Their relationship had been strictly platonic. Until a few seconds ago.

She loved Byakuya. Had since virtually the day he invited her off the street to enjoy a cup of tea with him. She had thought him to be lonely at first, and found herself compelled to work hard dispelling whatever malaise had crept over this extraordinary soul. The more she learned of him, the stronger that impulse grew. Here was a man deserving of more kindness than the world might assume, considering his vast fortune and innate abilities. Without a doubt, Hisana was in love with the noble Lord Byakuya Kuchiki.

So when he asked her to marry him, there was really only one thing to say.

"Yes, Byakuya-sama. I accept your offer, and tender my love in return for your own."

After that, nothing more needed to be said.

The first kiss covered it all.

* * *

_Dream_.

That was what it said.

Byakuya cleaned off his pen, and placed it back in the container. The finished work he laid out to dry. As for himself, the night was not yet complete.

Hisana had died smiling up at him, calling the last five years of their lives together a dream. He stayed with her constantly until that time, so she would never be alone. In the end, that was all he was able to provide her with. His company, and his promise. His common wife, as the other members of the household were careful not to call her, had confessed to him early in their marriage of the shame that had haunted her throughout her whole afterlife. An infant sister, abandoned in the farthest reaches of Rukongai, because she had not been able to provide for them both. One time, she had thought more of herself than another. Just one time was all it had took, to rob her of any trace of self-respect.

He had done the best he could in regards to his lady love. But when her illness forced them to part forever, unlike the last time, Byakuya did not permit himself to wallow in misery and isolation. Hisana, after all, had done more for him than he for her. She had brought him back from the dead, with her caring presence and willingness to love him as a friend and wife. And although the memory of what he had lost caused a pain just as intense as Yoruichi's, this time he was entrusted with more than a zanpakutō. Somewhere out there, in the Rukongai, his wife's only remaining relative might still be alive. And for the sake of all three of them, he was resolved to bring her into his house, adopting this woman as his sister, whomever she may be.

The master of his domain finished taking care of his artistic implements. This done, he moved to a small cabinet, opening it to retrieve a porcelain flask from his private saké stores. A corresponding dish was painted with the symbol of a phoenix in a forest, blue flames mingling with the leaves. Byakuya trod noiselessly from the room and back out into the warm night air, to settle back down on the porch of his house.

He poured himself a cup of rice liquor, examining its heady alcoholic scent. A small spell warmed the drink. Usually there would be a servant to perform these duties for him, whether it be as the head of his division or lord of this demesne. But right now, he was not in the mood for any sort of company. Tongues did wag, after all.

Even if you did have them pulled out afterwards.

* * *

When the agent entered, unheralded and unobtrusive, Byakuya lowered the dish of rice wine from his lips untasted. He made a sign for the figure to approach. Sidling over to his presence, it was difficult to say whether this slight apparition might be male or female. The concealing attire kept any presumptions upon that matter limited to guesses. Only the eyes might have given it away, and this loyal servant of the Kuchiki family kept theirs carefully lowered.

In the corners behind the dining table, two maids exchanged anxious glances at this apparent breach of protocol. The formal petition to approach the lord could be waved only in one very specific case. That being for the clan shinobi, regarding the unearthing of information pertaining to the location of their deceased mistress' younger sister. Anything less than success in that matter would call down heavenly retribution on the spy who approached their master otherwise. The pair of servants shivered in anticipation. Unless this individual possessed a death wish, that must be precisely the case here.

The lord's courier and informant was dressed in plain browns and blacks. Beneath one arm there was a sheaf of viewing materials. This they proceeded to place on the table before him with a humble bow, and then quietly left the room before either praise or blame could be dispensed.

With all outward sign of imperturbable tranquility, Byakuya reached down and grasped the bound pamphlet. Almost a year just to get this information. Granted, Hisana had searched for over five with no result. But still, calling in the services of the Second division and the Twelfth should have yielded progress in far more timely a fashion. Perhaps it was the fault of one Mayuri Kurotsuchi, head of the latter squad mentioned. His attempts to introduce new means of surveillance and recording had resulted in the loss of several members of his team. Rumors that the other groups would be prevailed upon to take up their roles in his experiments had seen to some very understandable consternation on the parts of those charged with ferreting out secrets.

But whatever the reason, his quest was at an end. The last living direct heir to the Kuchiki name had made it clear, after the first few months of negative reports, that he would be troubled with nothing less than approved confirmation of the target's whereabouts next time. Punishment would swiftly follow any who dared disregard this edict. Byakuya was certain that no member of his staff would be foolish enough to do so.

Drawing the red velvet band that held the booklet closed, the seeker opened it and gazed upon the contents.

Sitting only a few feet away, the servants could not help but notice their lord's posture stiffen.

"Get out."

Byakuya's voice was firm and even. His command was obeyed without hesitation. A pall of doom had settled over the room, and the two women were more than relieved to be out of sight should the hanging blade descend.

Their master continued to stare at the image laid out before him.

_Damn Mayuri Kurotsuchi_, he thought. _Damn that man_.

It was too good. His snickering psychotic fellow captain had informed him of a recently developed technique that would allow him to preserve any viewed image into a tactile paper form. The idea was one developed in the world of the living primarily. Supposedly, you could get a frozen shot of everything visible before one's eyes, rendered in perfect and precise immutability.

He saw now that the mad scientist had not been exaggerating, and he cursed him for doing his job so well.

From a rectangular pane, like a window into the past, Hisana stared back at him.

Or rather, someone who looked enough like her to be a sister.

And that's exactly what they were.

For the first time, Byakuya found himself wanting to disobey his wife's dying request.

_No. Please, this isn't fair. It just isn't fair, Hisana. She looks almost exactly like you. Please don't do this to me._

It wasn't a perfect resemblance. But that came as no comfort. For Byakuya knew that he would have no choice but to accept the charge bestowed upon him by this woman's sister. His lady wife. She would become a member of his household, with all the rights and privileges his family had to offer.

And every day he saw her in the halls, he would be reminded of what he had lost. The companionship, the hope, the peace that gave him all the reason he needed to live his life, in pursuit of anything that could bring happiness into their shared existence.

He would get none of that back. Instead there would only be a face staring at him in uncomprehending cruelty and admonishment. This girl, who had never done anything to hurt him, would make his heart bleed and weep anew every day, for as long as he lived.

Byakuya glanced down at the information printed towards the bottom of the page.

Her name, he saw, was Rukia.

* * *

The servants had finished dressing her only moments before. No attempt at conversation had been made. Layer upon layer of white formal fabric should have hampered any movement, but the ephemeral splendor of the weave, combined with the skill of the attendants, almost made it feel as though she were not dressed at all. Her maids departed swiftly afterwards, leaving their mistress to examine herself in the full-length mirror of her quarters.

Rukia Kuchiki had to admit, she certainly looked like a noble now. And that definitely counted for something, at least in the eyes of her new family.

And since she was not unmindful of the honor they had bestowed on her, she was determined to see their efforts were not done in vain.

The transition from floundering academy student to privileged noblewoman was not without its disadvantages, to be sure. A girl from the ghettos, having only just started to make some headway in her shinigami studies, could not be expected to suddenly change horses in the middle of the stream without difficulty. She had been languishing below the higher tiers of her class, attempting to master that elusive ability to wield a sword all the other shinigami hopefuls seemed to arrive at naturally. Renji, for sure, had far outpaced her in that respect, though his talent for self-immolation left her still far ahead in the area of kido spells.

Only now, in addition to striving to reach her potential as a shinigami, Rukia was struggling to master the terms of entry into court life. As of this moment, she could not be certain which one seemed more hopeless.

Tonight was to be her first public exhibition as a member of this house. That was the only way she could think of herself. Like a carefully bred and trained horse. She was lectured up, decked out, and put on display for all to see. A single misstep might result in her being put down as inferior stock. At least, that was the impression she got from seeing the face of her new brother. Best not to dwell on those notions, Rukia chided herself. For all she knew, those born noble could sense whenever someone was thinking of them in a less than servile manner.

It was just as this thought was slipping through her brain that the door to her room slid open, and Byakuya Kuchiki stepped inside.

* * *

Upon seeing his adoptive sister for the first time today, the recently-initiated death god captain paused.

It was not due to surprise at seeing her so regally attired. He himself was swathed in an imperial armament of fine white fabric, a scarf capable of funding the budget of the entire Gotei 13 draped around his neck. His triplet hair ornaments kept three locks of sable black always in stark contrast to the pale brow.

The reason Byakuya stopped was because he found himself uncertain he wanted to go through with this.

Indecision soon gave way to cogitation. Why? Because she was family now, and the highest lady of his court. The tradition had been established by himself. Granted, it was done solely for the purpose of pleasing his wife. But it had _worked!_ She had been overjoyed by his gesture. And if he wanted to maintain any shred of dignity in these proceedings, he would have to show everyone else in the family that he did not make such decisions lightly.

After all, the only person being hurt here was himself. Right?

* * *

When Byakuya walked into her dressing area, Rukia's first instinct was to run away and hide. She might have her doubts as to whether or not she could fit into this family. But one thing she was certain of was that this man frightened her like no other.

There was very little to know about Byakuya Kuchiki. He was cold. He was strict. He carried himself to a degree like a god descended among mortals. It was her understanding that he had been married only a year before. Rukia could not imagine the kind of woman who would stand being engaged to this frigid iceberg of power.

"O-nii-sama," she bowed her head. "What can I do for you this evening?"

In response, he produced a small box from inside his robes.

"It is customary for the ranking lady of the household to wear this at formal events. You are to continue the tradition."

He lifted the lid, and withdrew something astonishing.

They were pearls. Strings of them, wound around one another to form cords. Each separate length was in turn swathed in a sleeve of transparent white silk. Over half a dozen such rows lay on top of one another, ending on either side in matching carved quartz bands with two sets of black ribbons meant to tie them together.

Her brother was holding this gemstone marvel out to her. She could not have refused even if she were so inclined. Rukia had never seen anything so splendid.

Before she could make a move, Byakuya had crossed the space between them and stepped swiftly around behind her. Realization came swiftly.

_He's going to put it on me himself_.

Her previous giddiness was no longer in evidence. This was the sort of thing she had dreams about. Or perhaps the proper parlance would be _nightmares_. The emotionless face looming over her, wrapping a noose of some sort around her neck. Tightening, tightening, while she sat there unresisting, incapable of even speaking out in her defense.

Rukia felt silk and stone slide over her throat, and her fists clenched at her sides.

Without being told, she reached back and moved the fall of her hair up, revealing an expanse of smooth white skin.

There came a time then of slow tension, while the ornament came to envelop her neck. Never once in that space did she feel the fatal jerk, or the band growing taut. Instead it was a gentle experience. The ends of the ties tickled her faintly as skilled hands knotted them together in what must assuredly be perfect bows. She did not feel any dry fingers coming around with lethal intent.

A few seconds later, it was done. The younger sister could feel her towering sibling step away, his work concluded. Rukia did not dare face him, for fear that he might see her misgivings written all over her face. Instead she turned and looked once more on her image reflected in the mirror.

To find her transformation complete.

The necklace came up to just below her chin, and ended at the hollow of her throat. In truth it fit so well, it might have been made specifically for her. And the combination of white dress and collar, with dark lilac eyes and black hair, made for an impression of almost artistic beauty and grace. Rukia hardly recognized herself.

It was while in this contemplative state that she realized Byakuya had already left the room.

* * *

That night, everything went smoothly. Byakuya mingled amidst his guests and kinsmen with polished ease, speaking with intelligence and interest on the topics they saw fit to bring to his attention. He was able to smooth out some simmering grudges between erstwhile allies. Several personages of high renown came up to him to pay their courtesies and receive some in turn.

But the true star of that night was Rukia.

There must have been some of Hisana's enduring spirit within that necklace. His sister was transformed from the quiet, meek woman he had come to expect into a social angel. What drew people to approach the new noble lady of Kuchiki might at first have been only outward appearances. No matter their feelings on the issues involved, people could not help but be attracted to truly beautiful beings, if only to see whether they might get their attention for a moment. That had been Byakuya's solitary saving grace before Hisana had appeared to melt his icy personality. But it was in speaking to Rukia that they were then given the opportunity to understand that this was not just a lovely face. She was beautiful in far less obvious ways. Calm, and gracious. Polite. A trifle sad, perhaps, but she was also free with precise compliments that did not seem as half-hearted and worn as others they were used to hearing at these engagements. She looked at those who came to speak with her as equals. Perhaps this was not always well-received, but no one in attendance was going to make a point of calling her on it. Not here, not tonight.

For being her first time attending one of these glittering cavalcades, she maneuvered exquisitely. It was not a matter of melting hearts. Rukia did not appeal to emotions, but to reason. She offered no one offence. There was a marked lack in social faux pas on her part. If some people had come expecting a show, watching the commoner jerking about on her pricey shoes and tripping over servants, they left that night disappointed. This evening, she was the undisputed lady of Kuchiki manor, bar none.

When all in attendance had made their goodbyes, and the festivities officially concluded, Byakuya led his sibling back to her room. The ease and self-assuredness which had marked her display had not dissipated. He found himself impressed by this young lady, and wondered why he had never bothered to be before. She was more than just a face, after all. The guests were not the only ones to realize that tonight. Rukia bore a confidence derived from experience in her own abilities. The physical resemblance to Hisana could not be denied, but in addition her sister carried determination and fortitude. She had chosen to tackle this night's challenges head on, instead of meekly following him about and not voicing her own insights.

He knew that Hisana would have been proud to know her.

If only he could make that clear to her somehow, without betraying his wife's dying trust.

_I no longer have the right to call her my sister. Please, Byakuya-sama._

They looked at one another, and Byakuya spoke.

"Rukia."

She lifted her gaze to meet him eye-to-eye.

"You performed very well tonight. I was impressed with your composure."

An innocent statement. Not condemning. To let her know that she had proven herself.

The tiny shinigami clasped her hands and bowed.

"I am pleased to hear it, O-nii-sama."

Byakuya could only give a slight nod as she straightened, and then turned about. Once again, Rukia raised the fall of hair away from her neck, to allow him to remove the precious heirloom from its place around her throat.

He moved to do so, considering. No doubt she thought he would take the treasure with him when he left. How surprised might Rukia be when he pressed the pearl necklace into her hands, entrusting its safe-keeping with her now. Byakuya pondered as he undid the satin ties. This would be another way to let her know that she belonged with them now. Hisana had been so thrilled to be given this work of art. Ever afterwards, the honor of placing it around her neck and removing it once the festivities had ended fell to him. It was their intimate, quiet moment together once the official duties had been discharged. He had been happy to do this small service for her. The chance to let his wife know once again that his love remained undiminished, no matter how much time had passed.

At last the ribbons were loosed, and he drew the pearls away, revealing an expanse of creamy flesh.

And as he had always done before, Byakuya leaned down to place a kiss at the nape of her neck.

He heard a sharp gasp, and froze, lips a hairsbreadth from touching the warm skin.

_Byakuya-sama!_

_Fool, Fool, Fool!!_

This was not Hisana! Hisana was dead! Remember?!

He whipped about and strode from the room, seething at his own stupidity. The necklace remained with him, unnoticed.

* * *

His breath was cool on her neck, and Rukia drew a startled intake of air.

The presence at her back suddenly drew away, leaving her alone.

For several minutes she could do nothing but stand there, frightened even to turn around and find him still in the room, that staggering aura constrained behind cold dead eyes.

What was this family, she thought to herself? Why did they bring her here? What did they want from her?!

Was this all just a game for them?

Could she ever win it?

Rukia undressed herself. She would not allow the maids to touch her. Let them tell their master whatever they chose.

Tonight she actually needed to be alone, for the first time in months

* * *

Coming back to the present, the solitary noble had his first sip of saké, and found it good.

He had once heard that drinking alone was the sign of one enslaved to alcohol. Were he less familiar with a true alcoholic, it might have given him cause for concern. With this in mind, the initial cup he poured for himself he used to toast a flowering sakura tree on the grounds, its high pink blossoms outlined against a full moon. Taking a drink, he almost imagined he could hear an angry woman's voice berating her captain, and half-hearted explanations interwoven with slightly drunken flirtations. Soon after that would come the sound of a fan striking bare flesh, and tearful accusations of abuse from one's subordinate.

The captain of the Sixth division had no second officer at this time. The position had been vacant since the last full-scale military engagement with the Hollows. It was around then that a more organized threat from their ancient enemies was first observed. The incursion into one of the unpopulated spaces around the outer Rukongai had been determined to be an attempt to establish a beachhead. When the identity of the adjuchas leading the assault was confirmed by the Second division, Byakuya had made a formal petition to be allowed to lead the counterattack, and seen it granted. So it was that nearly 70 years after the death of his mother during an ambush in the mortal world, her son crossed swords with the newly-formed arrancar responsible for taking her life. She had been his grandfather's lieutenant. This time the undead monster found itself facing another Kuchiki officer. One who had achieved ban-kai. Although in the end, it was not due primarily to this overpowering accomplishment that the son was able to triumph, but owing more to the careful and creative training of the first woman he ever loved. The manticore of broken glass which the beast had become after performing its resurrección would only shatter its hide even further upon being struck by Senbonzakura Kageyoshi's all-encompassing force, reflecting the soul power in all directions. He had watched it become overconfident when he seemed incapable of penetrating its defense. And observed the arrancar's shock when his subtly hidden kido spells created an eruption of bedrock from beneath their feet. They had both plummeted into the newly formed pit, the rocks and boulders striking the huge composite creature, causing its mirror armor to spin and crack away briefly, unable to absorb any soul energy because there was none directed at it.

Byakuya danced amidst the devastation, calling on all the training Yoruichi had bestowed upon him. It was because of this he survived unscathed and ready to move when a large enough hole appeared in the glass skin, revealing the emaciated lion body hiding underneath. He then released his ban-kai's most destructive attack, Annihilationscape, and felt his heart race to see his mother's killer pinned against the sinkhole's wall by a thousand blades. They had never even exchanged names formally. When he spoke to the dying entity, his only question had been to demand the name of the one who had commanded it to make this attempt.

The human face of the beast twisted in its death-throes, eyes wild with fear and pain. Its mouth, filled with three rows of broken glass teeth, spat out blood, obscuring the strange '4' tattooed on its chin.

"A…Ai…" it choked.

Then the yellow eyes flashed with wrath, seeming to focus on something.

"Aaroniero…Arrurueri…"

A last flicker of hate finally faded, and Byakuya watched dispassionately as thousands upon thousands of conjoined Hollow were purged by the power of his soul cutter, to be reborn elsewhere as pure spirits in Soul Society. The gates of hell swallowed the rest.

Byakuya emerged victorious, to find his lieutenant slain. No other had been able to distinguish themselves to earn her place as of yet. But no one knew what the future might hold.

The Kuchiki leader took another drink, gazing thoughtfully into the night.

Into the future.

* * *

Kaien Shiba, lieutenant of the Thirteenth division, winced in anticipation of approaching pain. The junior officer at his side trembled with commiseration.

"Show no mercy," Kaien rasped. "What's the final death toll?"

The fifth seat drew a shaky breath, and delivered her report.

"Sir, I regret to inform you that our entire supply of saké has been completely demolished."

Her superior groaned deep in his throat. He then surveyed the charred ruin that had once served as a dining area in the Thirteenth squad barracks. Smoke stung his eyes, making him cough violently. There were craters in the floor, and the ceiling. Inebriated bodies lay strewn about the floor. And the ceiling, in some cases.

"_Hollows_ leave less destruction in their wake."

The junior officer could only nod unsteadily. She appeared to be having a hard time remaining vertical, but was struggling mightily to put on a brave face. Kaien looked at her sympathetically.

"Where are the attendees from the Eleventh division now, Officer… ah…?"

"Kotetsu, sir. Isane… I mean _Kiyone_ Kotetsu, sir." She breathed in deeply. "Kaien-fukutaichou, my fellow fifth seat took it upon himself to trail the war party. He left me in charge here. At least, I was in charge. Until you came. Then I guess I was demoted. I don't…" Kiyone reached out to steady herself on a burning piece of furniture. "I don't really know what I am here now."

"You're drunk," Kaien supplied.

"Yes I am."

"But you're erect. Which is more than I can say for most." The lieutenant from the noble house of Shiba surveyed the remnants of an impromptu drinking game between his division and the bloodthirsty barbarians of the Eleventh. "We're going to form a clean-up detail. Move as many of the wounded and intoxicated back to their dorms. Send a hell butterfly over to the Fourth division, let them know we need bandages, splints, and hangover remedies. Healing spells will have to wait 'til morning, it looks like this lot decided to engage in consuming kido-mixed drinks towards the end. No telling how it might react with their systems."

Officer Kotetsu's head was at an odd angle. "My sister is big in the Fourth. Very big. Huge. Like bursting out of her kimono. Her head hits the ceiling sometimes. I'm jealous. She's dangerous. I'll tell her what you said."

Kaien resisted the urge to ask her to repeat what he had said. Instead he gave a nod of approval, and proceeded to roll up his sleeves.

"All right. Let's get cracking!"

Kiyone saluted, grabbed a pitcher, and proceeded to puke into it.

* * *

Two hours later saw Kaien trudging wearily back to his office. There would be no chance of making it home tonight. Miyako would just get to have the bed all to herself. She knew how these things worked. No doubt they would be coming upon beleaguered and stumbling members of their squad crawling out of strange places come the morning. Until then, he was going to get some sleep.

Sliding shut the door of his office, the young lieutenant simply plopped straight down in the middle of the floor, shielding his eyes with a groan. Even moving to extinguish the lights felt like too much effort. He would just have to let them burn.

Kaien reached out, snagging a nearby pillow with one hand and a blanket with the other. He settled himself in for the night, staring up at the ceiling.

Staring very, very hard.

What… was… _that?!_

Against the bottom of the frosted glass lamp plate high above him, a large shadow was standing out.

Less than a minute later, Kaien had managed to drag his table under the light fixture. Standing upon a stool placed on top of it, his eyes came over the rim of the glass.

Curled up in the hollow was a tiny shinigami.

Reaching out, he gave one shoulder a small shake.

"Hey. You there."

No response. Kaien debated. Kido healing was a no-no, again. And at this angle, he stood no chance of being able to lift them out. The intruder was wrapped around the bowl containing the candle. There seemed to be little danger of them catching their robes on fire. And if their body weight hadn't caused them to come crashing down yet, it probably meant they weren't going to. Which meant he could leave them there for the evening. Actually, he considered chivalrously, if he stayed beneath them, his body would serve as a cushion just in case the light fixture did give way during the night.

It was while he was coming to this conclusion that his sleeping adventurer shifted their head slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

Kaien gawked.

The woman asleep in his ceiling was none other than Rukia Kuchiki.

He knew her, of course. Kaien had taken special care to see that the young noblewoman find herself accepted as a member of the 13 Division Imperial Guards. Under his watch, nobody got special treatment. Even royalty. Or former royalty. He bedded down in the barracks just like everybody else. And Kuchiki had seemed to respond to this environment. Certainly she was a lot more open than when she had first appeared. Her training was coming along nicely too. He had seen to that personally. She was growing. Though had you asked him, he could not formulate any believable theory as to how little Rukia had gotten caught up in the alcoholic antics of this night's proceedings.

However, none of that changed his previous opinion of the situation. Removing her safely was not an option. Kaien vaguely recalled how Rukia liked climbing to high places. Learning how she managed to get up there in the first place could wait for the light of day. That being decided, he blew out the candle, returned the furniture to its rightful positions and tucked himself back into bed.

Lying in his darkened office, Kaien wondered groggily how he was going to explain himself should Miyako ever learn that he had slept with a young girl in his quarters one night.

He fell quickly into sleep, too tired to realize that his wife might not be the one he should be worrying about.

* * *

Come the dawn, when full wakefulness set in, Kaien did realize it.

However, to his credit, he did not panic.

Contrary to what people might say of him, Byakuya Kuchiki was not an evil man. He would not summarily execute an entire division, and its fun-loving lieutenant, just for getting his sister drunk.

And keeping her overnight.

And letting her sleep in a ceiling fixture.

In the room of a healthy and active young man.

For her part, Rukia remained dead to the world. No amount of shakes, pokes, soft whispers, and mighty screams could seemingly change that. So with no other choice available, the Shiba aristocrat simply left her there, praying that she would come around before any trouble could manifest itself.

Two hours later, while overseeing the division of labor for repairs to their grounds, a white-faced Kiyone Kotetsu came running up let him know that their reprieve had been rescinded.

Kaien then made his way to the front plaza of his squad, where a steely-eyed Byakuya Kuchiki had chosen to wait for him.

"Lieutenant Shiba."

"Captain Kuchiki."

"My sister Rukia did not return to our home last night."

The Second seat smiled in a sickly and hopefully guileless manner.

"Might you know where she could be found?"

Kaien wasted no time. "She stayed in the assigned sleeping quarters last night." No need to say they were assigned to yours truly.

The next words came out quite softly.

"Are there any abnormalities in her condition you would like to make me aware of?"

"Kuchiki-taichou." He was prepared to make one thing perfectly clear. "A member of my squad attended a party within the grounds of our perimeter. She had a bit too much to drink, and I determined that it was not in her best interests to try and make it home last night. There were no further improprieties beyond this, and I stand by the lady's reputation, which is unblemished. Your sister is perfectly fine now."

Byakuya's expression did not change one iota in the face of this honest proclamation.

"I would like her brought to me, so that we may take our leave."

Kaien bowed politely. "I'll see to it she knows that you are here."

Once he was out of sight, Kaien raced in a blur of shunpō down the halls, scattering shinigami in his wake.

Upon opening the door to his office, it was to find a very disoriented Rukia staring blearily about in the center of the room.

"Kuchiki," he breathed gratefully. "I'm glad you're awake."

She regarded him uncertainly. "Kaien-dono. Why am I here?"

"You don't remember the party?"

The vertically-challenged death god frowned in thought. "Officer Kotetsu invited me to have one drink. I had planned to go straight home right after that. What…?"

She cast a glance at the light streaming through the office windows, and paled visibly.

"What time is it?!"

"8 o'clock in the morning," Kaien offered.

Her eyes grew very big. "O-nii-sama…"

"Is here. Now. You have to come with me."

Frantically Rukia dashed to a bed-stand mirror, where she tried to comb her hair back into place with her fingers. Surprisingly, that seemed to work quite well. Next she arranged her disheveled attire. That too was done commendably. In just a few minutes, Rukia Kuchiki was presentable once more.

"I'm ready, Kaien-dono."

They walked together back they way he had come. Entering the courtyard, it did not appear as though Byakuya had moved a muscle.

Kaien stayed back a few paces. Rukia stepped swiftly forward, and bowed to her older sibling.

"O-nii-sama. I apologize for troubling you in this manner. Please excuse my behavior. I await upon your pleasure."

The white prince did not even deign to look at her.

"We're leaving." A terse proclamation. He gave a cursory nod in Kaien's general direction, then turned and strode off without waiting for a response, the very picture of aloof arrogance.

The son of Shiba glowered at the man's retreating back. There went someone who thought the sun needed his permission to shine. While he was thinking this to himself, Rukia came about and gave a deep bow.

"Thank you for your aid last night, Shiba-fukutaichou."

_You're welcome, Kuchiki_.

That was what he was about to say.

But at that precise moment, Rukia came back up. The expression on her face stopped him short.

Kaien had never seen a living soul look so terrified.

When he made no response, she just turned and walked away.

Kaien stood there and watched her go.

* * *

She should have let him know.

Byakuya was incensed. He did not betray this outwardly, though. That was not his way. Floundering and stomping, vocalizing your rage; that was for infants, and those who lacked maturity. His pace was deliberate and purposeful. No evidence of distress could be found in his physiognomy or bearing.

But for those who knew him, a presentiment was developed. This allowed them to stay out of his way when times got bad. Now was one of those times.

Rukia should have sent a message informing him of her decision to stay in the barracks last night. Or at the least, Shiba should have had the sense to inform another nobleman of the current state of affairs. _But she should have let him know!_ As it was, he had only gotten two hours of forced sleep, worrying about where she might be, what trouble might be heading her way. It was not that he lacked confidence in her abilities. Rukia was more than just a survivor. In the face of adversity, she prevailed. She triumphed. Exactly the sort of qualities he looked for in an officer.

And that was also precisely why he had used his influence to insure she would never hold such a position. His was not the only division to lack a capable lieutenant at this time. Discreet inquiries had been made concerning his sister's placement among the Gotei 13. Some of those had only been designed to curry favor with Byakuya, but a few expressed precise knowledge of her demonstrated potential. The good officers knew better than to rely solely on academy ranking. Hence his carefully constructed web of favors, insinuations, and borderline blackmail. All to keep one untested shinigami from losing her life too soon.

So when Rukia did not exhibit the same level of concern for her person that her brother did, that tended to make him worry. Perhaps some might deem this excessive. But considering the history of people whom Byakuya loved, he found such behavior entirely justified.

Therefore he was angry. With himself, for no specific reason. With Shiba and Rukia, for disregarding him. And, in some strange way, with Hisana. Because she had continued to loathe herself to such an extent that she would prefer to see her past erased from living memory, rather than seek to explain it. For this reason, he alone carried a loving thought of his departed wife. When the one person in all the world who might have shared his affection for her walked not three paces behind him, and she did not have a clue. He was not allowed to relate his life with her sister to Rukia, or explain what a fantastic person she had been. His vow prevented him from so much as mentioning her name, for fear that doing so would open the floodgates, and he would find himself shouting to her and all the world how happy Hisana had made him.

The only recourse was to bite his tongue, while inside he felt like exploding and dying. And being the type of man he was, that was what he did.

He kept walking, but he hardly paid any attention as to where his path might lead.

* * *

Rukia tagged along in Byakuya's wake. She concentrated on keeping her spine straight, shoulders spaced well apart. But the cold deadly power emanating from her brother's back was like a frost spreading through her lungs, making her want to hunch down and cower in on herself for warmth.

There was no protection to be had here. The pair of them traversed the blankly anonymous lanes of Seireitei without encountering company. Having made the journey to and from the squad estates numerous times now, Rukia had no trouble discerning that they were not headed back to the Kuchiki grounds. Her noble brother was instead leading them on a topsy-turvy route known only to him. And that was reason enough in and of itself to be worried. If Byakuya was not taking her home, then she was not certain where they were going. That meant most likely no one else did either. It was just the two of them. All alone together. With no witnesses.

The petite death god was finding it hard to lift one foot in front of the other. If I were to stop, she wondered, would he even notice? Maybe my soul power is so slight it would just be swallowed up in his own, and he would go on ahead. Then I could turn around and walk off to heaven-knows-where. I could be safe. How could I have known when I accepted their invitation to join the family that it might mean my life? Who could have seen something like this coming?

Not Renji, to be sure. He had practically thrown her at them. Even though she could see past his façade of exultation on her part. I should have stayed with him, she realized. I was never meant to be here. I traded a slow death for a fast one.

Then Rukia and Byakuya turned a corner, to find themselves faced with a deep pit.

* * *

The captain of Squad Six continued walking, before coming to an abrupt stop at the edge of the chasm.

Just where had he led them? Hadn't been thinking straight, clearly. His concern for Rukia and mourning for Hisana had kept him from paying any attention as to what direction his path had taken. Apparently he had gone so far out of his way that they had stumbled upon one of the old outlawed execution pits. The walls of this manufactured gorge were lined with death stone, an unstable type of reishi. It was a substance that sought to correct this imbalance by absorbing any overflowing reiatsu it came in contact with, specifically that of high-power beings like shinigami. In such an environment the offending death god would find his powers leeched away. After this Hollows would be cast in to feast upon those accused of vile and seditious acts. Considered a barbaric practice even before his birth, it was no longer a recognized means of inflicting capital punishment.

Byakuya stood at the lip of oblivion. Rukia remained a few paces behind him.

Into this hungry maw, he knew, or one just like it, shinigami that had been sentenced by his father were put to death.

Their screams of desperate agony haunted his parent to his own dying day. It was this savage custom that had contributed to that princely figure's untimely demise.

Dead before his time. Just like Hisana.

Now he could only carry his father and wife in his heart. Whom could he possibly speak to about them, that could relate to him and care enough about them to share the burden of his grief?

He knew. She was standing right behind him.

And suddenly it all became too much. His sense of loss, his enduring love, combined with privileges he did not cherish half so much as the touch of someone he truly cared for. Knowing that they in return cared right back. That was worthwhile, he realized. Not wealth or title or rank or even power. Just love! Why should he exhibit all the rest of his treasures, and be forced to keep the most precious a secret?!

The agitated nobleman whirled away in anxiety, stepping past Rukia, who remained staring straight ahead. There he stopped.

Byakuya made his choice.

He would tell her about Hisana.

Why?

Because his wife had been wrong. She did have the right to be loved, and remembered. The oath he had sworn served only to bring him pain. No other good purpose came from it.

Hisana would be remembered. Perhaps not fondly, but as long as the knowledge of her remained in Rukia's heart, for whatever reason, then his wife would no longer have to risk being forgotten.

Being so resolved, Byakuya turned back to Rukia. She looked unnaturally rigid. His doing, he chided himself. What must she be thinking? He had looked on her minor infraction with cold condemnation, and proceeded to lead her to a place where criminals were dispatched. What other inference could she draw, except to suppose that her aloof brother had brought her here to dispose of her, and erase this blot upon his family name?

His heart went out to her. The lingering secret that had marred their relationship must end now. He never wanted her to feel like he could possibly do her harm. She was his sister now. That part of his vow would endure for as long as he lived.

His slender fingers came up and rested on her shoulders. No need to flinch, he remonstrated her inwardly. I will never allow you to come to harm.

Byakuya leaned forward, and whispered compassionately in her ear.

"Don't be afraid."

* * *

_You will die!!!_

That alarm was ringing in her brain. She knew why this place existed. It was an execution ground. He really did mean to kill her this time.

_Run!_ The voice in her head screamed. _Get away now, who cares if he's a captain?! Or fight back, damn you! Draw and fight for your life, you hopeless girl, are you just going to stand there and let him cut your head off?!!!_

Byakuya moved to stand behind her. Rukia's heart hammered away inside her chest. Memories of her childhood flashed before her mind's eye, mixed in with kido spells for destruction and subjugation. And there was the sole voice of reason.

_Don't give up on me now! You didn't live this long just to submit to another person's mindless hatred of you!_

Cold hands that vibrated with supernal strength clasped her shoulders, preventing her from escaping.

_I have never been ashamed of you! Not even once! But if you sit there like a lump and let this happen, I… I will never forgive you! No forgiveness for this! Do you hear me?!! DO NOT DIE TODAY!!!_

"Don't be afraid," the majestic executioner's voice whispered.

I am. But that won't stop me.

Rukia prepared to draw her sword and die…

When another voice shouted.

"KUCHIKI-TAICHOU!"

* * *

Byakuya spun about. _You will die!!!_

Standing at the intersection from which they had entered, Lieutenant Kaien Shiba glared right back at him.

For one frozen instant, Byakuya was prepared to cut the man's head off. He made no attempt to hide that.

Then he felt Rukia begin to turn, and frantically suppressed that maniac wrath, unwilling to have her see him like this.

Kaien continued speaking, having apparently no idea how close he had come to death. "I'm sorry to bother you, Byakuya-sama, but Ukitake-taichou has called a meeting of the entire Thirteenth division to address the incident from last night. I'll have to insist that Rukia-san return with me."

_DAMN YOU!!_

Out loud he only said, "Very well."

He stood aside. Rukia passed before him, gaze rooted to the ground. He wanted to reach out and stop her, confess to everything he had kept secret, all the lies and mistakes, all the people he had loved, Yoruichi, and her sister.

But that man was watching.

And he could not bring himself to do it.

Byakuya watched his sister leave. After a while, he too made his departure.

* * *

Kaien saw death in his superior's eyes, but he did not flinch. He kept one hand on the sheathe of Nejibana, surreptitiously easing the blade from its scabbard with his thumb.

Then Byakuya Kuchiki reverted back into a black-garbed ice shelf, distant and impenetrable to human eyes.

"Very well."

He retreated a pace. Rukia obeyed her leader's unspecified command, and came to join him. They both walked off together, with her in the lead. Kaien cast a last look back at the silent menace in fine clothes, before turning his attention to Rukia.

Her superior officer was relieved beyond words. Just what kind of travesty had he only narrowly averted here? The lie about Ukitake might come back to bite him in the future; his own captain remained bed-ridden from his condition. But that was something to regret later. Kaien was just thankful he had arrived in time to keep from having anything to regret right now.

After a few minutes, the small black butterfly before him stopped moving.

Kaien also paused.

"Kuchiki-san?"

She turned and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. They barely made the circuit of his body. Her face was pressed into his navel, and Rukia sobbed against him.

The lord of Shiba returned her embrace with one of his own. He stroked her hair, whispering that she was safe, there was nothing that could harm her now.

While her tears did not abate, she did manage to gasp out one sentence.

"What… does he… _want_… _from me?!!_"

More crying, and Kaien was sorry to admit he could not provide an answer.

* * *

_The nail that sticks up gets hammered down._

Byakuya finished his drink. Yes, he knew the feeling. Getting hammered, for stepping out of line and otherwise. These things never seemed to end well for him.

But in spite of that, he couldn't seem to stop throwing his hat into the ring.

It might seem stupid, but he knew his reasoning.

Pride.

That he felt for himself, and others.

* * *

The Seventh Espada, Zommari Leroux, drew away from him fearfully.

"Why do shinigami choose to kill us?!" he shrieked. "You have no right! Can you not see? It is arrogance! You have no right to act as judge and executioner for Hollows! You're just blind to…"

Byakuya cut him in half.

"My killing you has nothing to do with your being a Hollow, or my being a shinigami. The reason you died today…"

He leveled a furious glare at his vacant-eyed sister, the edge of her own sword held back from her throat only by his constraining kido spell.

"…is because you had the temerity to point your blade at my pride."

The arrancar dissolved in a pathetic fashion, and Byakuya called over Lieutenant Isane Kotetsu to tend to Rukia's wounds.

* * *

Finding himself weary now, the lord of this domain rose elegantly, retrieving his dishes and returning to his room. No servants were called to help him get dressed for bed.

Settling in under the covers, Byakuya allowed himself a few moments of thought about today's events. He would not press Rukia. She did not deserve any blame for this night. All he would do was offer her support in whatever way he could. In return, he knew she would continue to make him proud to be her brother, whether she knew it or not.

* * *

"No, nii-sama, you have to stroke them like this. See?"

Kneeling in the snow, the prince of the Kuchiki observed his sister demonstrate. Learning from her example, he trailed his fingertips softly over the fur of the small white rabbit in his lap. It darted its head about, nose twitching, sides heaving. But Rukia had assured him this was only natural for their kind. And it did not bolt. That was a sign of improvement on his part.

Seeing her student now so adept, Rukia smiled happily, and hugged the large mother rabbit against her chest, its back legs twitching vainly. She buried her features in the top of its head, giving the fuzzy animal a kiss.

His cherished sister looked back up at him.

"Thank you for the gift, nii-sama. I love them very much."

Byakuya bowed his head slightly, an affectionate smile touching his face.

_No matter how many times I get beaten down, there is always a reason to risk myself again._

"You're welcome, Rukia."

_To be continued..._


	3. The Bog: Know Thine Enemy

The world swam before his eyes.

A sickening sight, to be sure.

To prove that point, he was suddenly and violently ill right over the side of the bed.

Somehow that seemed to help, like he had ejected something unpleasant from his system. Sweating and relieved, the man flipped back over, covering his eyes with a forearm to guard them against the light. His own skin felt cool against his brow, leaving him to wonder whether or not he might be feverish. Actually, that was a pretty stupid question considering he was stripped down to his loincloth and still sweating like a… a one-eyed…

A one-armed weight-lifter!

Hey. That one was pretty good. And modern to boot! He must not be in too bad shape if he could come up with a gem like that.

Renji Abarai then rolled over on the other side of his cot and heaved so hard it came out of his nose.

After that he just lay there, perspiring and praying that he wasn't going to die this way. Getting killed, like with fighting Hollows, was one thing. But knowing you brought it on yourself without anyone's help? That made for some serious regrets there.

What motivated me to do it anyway, he asked himself?

I think it was because of…

"Rukia-chan?"

Yeah. Exactly.

Wait. That wasn't me. Who said that?

"Are we feeling any better, Abarai-kun?"

The shinigami dog of war opened his eyes fully. Not because he was trying to find the person who asked him that, but because those words sounded so loud in his head it felt like his brain had gone ban-kai and was trying to pound its way out of his skull.

Had there been anything left inside him, this pain would have certainly been enough to bring it out. As it was, that agony made him concentrate more on anything else that could serve as proof he was still alive.

"I might have seen her at a meeting, but…I believe this marks the point of no return for you, young… well, don't spread it around but yesterday morning… There is now absolutely no chance of you dying, so you may as well start acting that way. We are glad to help our fellows but… Byakuya Kuchiki came around, and he was…"

That name caused the errant young death god to realize a few things.

Sharp hearing. Like a dog. Trained on the streets. That was something Renji did not go around bragging about, because someone he admired had advised him to play his cards close to his chest. Thanks, sensei. Still got it, along with anything else I can learn from these people. It allowed him to pick up on things that folks might not want to be known, especially if they happened to be about him. A good survival trait, more so when you found yourself living in a place where a whispered word could end your life far faster than any blade.

And because of this, Renji finally puzzled out just what was happening to him.

It would seem that as a result of his returning to consciousness, someone was now addressing him. By name. When the hung-over redhead managed to get his equally crimson and teary eyes to focus properly, he found himself being regarded by a very severe and unsmiling visage. Looked to be a guy … pretty interesting glasses he had on, almost like that one lieutenant's, he would have to ask the fella where he could come by a pair like that, not for any vision problems but just for fashion… Okay, what else?… blonde...skinny…looks sorta like Kira, really, and speaking of which I should find out how that featherweight is doing in his own division, he's probably struggling just to stay alive…

"…issue of available bed space is something we take very seriously in the Fourth division, so if you're feeling up to walking…"

Getting off track. Something else was said, and not by this joker. Concentrate. Tune in on that and out on him. If I weren't in the condition I am right now, I'd just punch him quiet, but seeing as how things are, I'll just have to try…and…find…

THERE!

"…after I found my lieutenant, I thought I might have peed myself without noticing, the guy was so cold but so obviously MAD!"

"Kiyone, please! I'm trying to pull this out without taking half the man's head with it! I'm sorry, but I don't have time for gossip right now!"

"But this is _juicy!_ And _scary!_ It's _scary-juicy!_"

"…_buzz buzz_ kido-mixed drinks _buzz buzz_ menace to life and limb _buzz_…"

The hum of his yammering bespectacled bedside bug had diminished to mere background noise. Now Renji felt confident he could ferret out the gist of the other conversation, which seemed to be going on somewhere farther away. They were both girls, and talking in whispers. Every heartbeat made his head feel like it was swelling up like an inflated bladder, but this was more important than dying. One of those girls had mentioned two names that caught his attention like a hound on the scent.

"Don't tell me 'No,' I shirked my duties just to come here and tell you this before anybody else! If this is the thanks I get from my own sister then…!"

"Okay!" the one apparently working whispered frantically. "Just let me keep healing, all right? I think his brains are starting to go back in."

"All right, then!" A very satisfied air, like she had just triumphed in the latest in a long line of sisterly duels. "So I told Shiba-fukutaichou, and he goes to talk to Kuchiki-taichou. Meanwhile, I'm running around trying to find Rukia-chan…"

She said it again! He hadn't been mistake before. Keep talking, girlie!

"And then I see Kaien-san leading her out to the courtyard. I stayed back, cuz I didn't want to get caught in the middle if anything happened."

"Like what?" the sister asked curiously.

"Like… if they, you know, started fighting one another. The lieutenant's a nice person, but when he gets mad you better not be standing in his way, he'll mow you right down! I'd be scared of him if Ukitake-sama didn't trust him so much, that means I can too, my captain's never wrong about people, did you know that he can…"

"Kiyone..." Lamenting.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, Neesan. I get carried away. Anyways, Kuchiki Senior sweeps off like he's gotta take a leak and doesn't want to do it here, and Kuchiki Junior runs off after him. I was feeling relieved that nothing happened, but kind of disappointed that, you know, nothing _happened_. I thought at least they were going to duel for her honor or something, you know Kaien-san devotes a lot of time and energy into Rukia-chan, when they go off together some people like to whisper about how they're fu…"

"KIYONE!" Scandalized.

"No wait, sorry, I got my stories crossed. So anyway, at first I was thinking, you know, party's over, nothing more to see. But Kaien-san, he just stood there staring at them. Finally after a few minutes, he took off, out of the division. I was thinking maybe he was going to try and find Sentarō or ask for the Fourth division's help personally. Then, maybe twenty minutes later, he was back. And he had Rukia-chan with him! Oh my gods, Isane…!" Her voice dropped down to barely even a hiss, but she was so excited now that Renji still had no problem eavesdropping on them. "You've never, _ever_ seen _anyone_ look this bad! I couldn't even recognize her, she looked like she was _dead!_ And _scared_ too, dead _scared,_ like something had frightened her out of her wits! She was a walking _corpse, I tell you!_"

"You're serious?" The one called Isane sounded intrigued, in spite of her earlier protests.

"Yes! But Kaien-san! He was _angry!_ More than I've ever seen him, I thought he might spit fire at any moment! I was so surprised I didn't know what to believe! I looked at their clothes, but there was no blood or signs of a struggle. He led Rukia-chan back to her quarters and left her there. Then he called for me! Shiba-fukutaichou informed me that Rukia-chan was to be excused from any clean-up duties, that she was still recovering from the night before with the Eleventh division's roughhousing, and that I was to convene a meeting of all the other squad members."

Renji's bleary-eyed gaze limped around the confines of his hospital room, for that was clearly where he now was. There were any number of his fellow warmongers stretched out in identical positions as himself. The remnants of last night's festivities. But then, Rukia…

"You know me, I can keep a secret. So I asked Shiba-san, 'Sir, what's going on?' Very polite and proper. And then he gives me this look, like…" There was a pause, as Kiyone apparently demonstrated the expression in question to her sister. "Really tired and sad, see? And he says that he needs to speak with Ukitake-taichou right away, and I should tell the whole division that we're to conduct drills for the rest of the day once we're all done cleaning. Now, you notice, he didn't tell _me_ that I was on drills, just the squad. And that's how I came to see you now!"

For a time there was silence, and Renji's frantic heart felt like it might fail him at the fear there might be nothing more to share. But then, his unspoken prayer was answered.

"What do you think happened between them?"

"I wish I knew. I've asked around, but there was no one who could tell me anything about what went on. Apparently they never made it back to the Kuchiki manor, that's for sure. But you want to know what I think?"

_YES! _Renji thought.

"I think Rukia got ferociously drunk last night. I personally remember sharing a drink with her, or maybe more than one. But then, she must have done something really, _really_ awful with somebody _extremely_ inappropriate. Like one of the Eleventh, or from our division even, like maybe Kaien Shiba himself!"

"Or maybe Captain Ukitake!"

"WHAT? ISANE, THAT'S CRAZY, YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking! It just came out! Is Unohana-taichou anywhere around?"

"No, now pipe down and listen! Whatever happened, her brother Byakuya must have found out about it. That's why he came himself, I've never ever seen him in our division grounds, not even close. And I told you how angry he was! Plus there are all sorts of rumors about him. You know he was married before? And once I got into a talk with someone from the Sixth, they said a servant friend of theirs was dismissed from Lord Byakuya's service for accidentally speaking his dead wife's name. And there was something about Rukia in it too! I couldn't catch what, but there's definitely something strange about those two. You know they're not really brother and sister, right? You know he actually adopted her? What if there's something going on there? And I heard a rumor that she's been seen several times talking to _Ichimaru-taichou!_ _Gin freaking Ichimaru, of all people! _Now look me in the eye and tell me there's not something seriously wrong with that!"

The remainder of that conversation registered in Renji's mind only peripherally. At the mention of the prior evening's activities, some part of his brain had been furiously trying to piece together as much as he could possibly remember of those events.

What had happened? What could he be counted upon to say in regards to…

* * *

"_Rukia! Oi, Rukia, over here!"_

_Finally! She noticed him. He had come all the way over here, just to see her, and nobody knew where she was. How could she not be here? They were having a party! This was how the Eleventh division acted before going out on patrol. It was important to remember how to enjoy yourself, that was what they said. He knew that already, so it didn't require arguing. But if she only knew how hard he had worked to convince even this many guys to accompany him… oh well, who cares really, they were here now, and these Thirteenth bozos were turning out to be surprisingly fun. _

_But even with the addition of several interesting and outrageous partygoers, the absence of one person in particular had rankled him. Renji knew he was drunk; not enough to not realize it, of course, but sufficiently inebriated to recognize that if he went bulling through the corridors calling her name, she might figure out he had come because of her. So he had stewed silently, drinking more and more without question, until as fate would have it, he looked up to see a familiar face on the edge of the crowd._

_She was coming over towards him now. The sight made Renji so deliriously happy that he stumbled forward and dragged her into a fierce hug. Rukia, tiny Rukia, she didn't even reach up to his chest still. _

"_Hello, Renji."_

_The small frame drew away from him, and he gazed down on her, grinning foolishly and not caring._

"_Thought you'd be taller by now," he muttered distractedly. "Ain't they feeding you in that big Kuchiki house? You haven't even gained any weight, you should be at least 90 kilos now. I would be, if it was me."_

_Suddenly he realized how that must sound, and quickly amended himself. _

"_You look great, is all I'm saying."_

_And was relieved when she smiled back._

"_Thanks. You look… drunk."_

_That was true. He was drunk. Always the little smart one, nothing ever got by her._

_Well, one thing had. But that's okay, he never even said it to himself really, much less out loud. Why not, Renji wondered suddenly? It's no big deal, to let her know he cared about her. He couldn't believe he had gone his whole life without putting it into words, it seemed so absurd. What could it hurt?_

"_Rukia…" the merry marauder placed his hands on her shoulders. At the odd look she gave him, he couldn't help but find it humorous, and chuckled. "Rukia, I… I got something funny to tell you."_

"_Well, this ought to be good." She had that sly, knowing look that always let him know she was mocking him. A sort of secret language between them. Secrets kept, and held. Buried in the graves of friends and in their hearts. Renji blinked dazedly, trying to gather his thoughts together. Where had he been going with this again?_

_Something important he had to say, wasn't there?_

"_Ru-Kia-Chan!"_

_From seemingly out of nowhere, this little short-haired red-faced boy wearing gardener's gloves popped up between them. The midget gave Renji a nasty look back over his shoulder, and seemed to slur the words, "Taaaall people ever'where." Then he turned to face Rukia. "Ruk'ya-chan, you need t'try this drink. I can't be trusted with it, I tried three- no, f-four times, and it won't fit in me. You're the only one small as me, so we need you to settle the bet."_

_A look of pained embarrassment crossed the sable-locked maiden's face. "Kiyone-san, I'll be with you in just a moment, I need to talk to my frien…"_

_A white-gloved hand came up over her mouth._

"_No. You have to drink. No drink, no talk. Them's the rules."_

_The kid then whirled Rukia about, placed his hands on her back and marched her away. Renji watched them both toddle off on their little legs. At one point, he saw Rukia's head turn, and she cast him a helpless grin. The swaying soldier was warmed by that sight, and any animosity towards their being interrupted was dispelled. It was all good. She was going to have some fun now. Later he'd catch hold of her, let that girl know everything he really felt. This was the night, Renji told himself. Tonight it all comes out in the open between us. No more feeling bad about yourself, Rukia. Me neither. I got me a plan now, that I most certainly DO!_

_With that, Renji answered the calls of some of his brethren and went staggering off._

_

* * *

_

Aside from that, the only clear recollection he retained from the fiesta was the impression of carrying Rukia around on his shoulders. Just what had that been about? Had he really told her something important? Did she know now how aggrieved he had been, how he felt like he had let her go or let her down somehow, and what he was doing to amend that?

Had he hurt her somehow?

Could they have… actually…?

No.

No, _that_ he would remember. Because if he couldn't, then there was no forgiving himself for anything.

No sense in living anymore, if Rukia had been…

What?

What happened last night?

And this morning… what was going on there?

Byakuya.

Kuchiki Byakuya.

_Lord_ Kuchiki Byakuya.

That monster.

What the hell did he do to you?

"Rukia," Renji groaned out loud.

Suddenly that broom-stiff bedpan-changer's face was hanging right over his own. The man's spectacles gleamed with an evil light.

"Cogitation, and pronunciation. Two signs of recovery warranting hospital discharge under division rule 17-47B Amendment Epsilon paragraph 6. You've puked on my floor for the last time today, you sword-licking maniac."

There was something profoundly unsettling in that thin-lipped smile.

Then blondie's features pulled back.

"EMPTY BED!" he bellowed.

The sound of his shout tore a hole in the world, or at least in Renji's eardrums. Within seconds, he was being hoisted between two determined healers and dragged from the room.

"I am so hammered," he murmured to himself, feet dangling and scraping over the floorboards. After that the discombobulated brawler resolved to be led wherever his attendants so chose. And to accept the consequences thereafter.

* * *

The Kenpachi's single visible eye swiveled down, a barely-concealed madness swarming in the funereal-black pupil.

"You want to say that to me again, you fucking invalid?"

Behind that towering frame, Jūshirō Ukitake saw the pallid lieutenant Kira draw a shocked gasp of breath. No sign of disturbance came from his fellow captain Ichimaru, though the white-haired gentleman could swear he _heard_ the man smile wider. For his part, Ukitake did his best to remain calm. It was not difficult. Having been entrusted with doing his superior's dirty work for uncounted centuries now, he had developed a preternatural ability to deliver ill news with grace.

He took no pride in it. In fact Jūshirō held very deep misgivings in that respect. But that was no deterrent from doing his duty.

"I will repeat it as many times as you like, Zaraki-taichou." Facing the other three officers in the middle of a bridge between two buildings, the head of the Thirteenth division met the gaze of this unpredictable lunatic. "By decree of the Central 46 and authorized by Commander-General Yamamoto, you are to send one-third of the Eleventh division, including those men and women responsible for the disturbance at our headquarters two nights ago, to assist my personnel in clearing out the so-called 'Hollow's Bog' in the eastern hinterlands beyond the Rukongai. Furthermore, neither you nor your lieutenant are permitted to join in this exercise."

A look of warped pleasure caused the murderous mountain's lips to twist in a sneer. "You know what I think about that?"

The ancient soul before him did not flinch in the slightest. "I would be pleased to listen to your thoughts on the subject."

That spiked cannonball of a head then drew down, bells jangling softly, until they were nose-to-nose.

"I think that's bullshit. I think what the old walking shit-factory actually wanted me to know was that you're getting to be a pain in his hemorrhoid-impacted ass, and he wants me to pull your fucking head off right now to save us all some pain."

Ukitake felt those words. He did not brush them off, or try to ignore them. As gentle and accommodating as he might seem to others, there were certain facts about the delicate-seeming effete that were known to all. First off, he was a veteran soldier who had personally slain thousands upon thousands of powerful men and monsters throughout the ages. And second, he was nobody's fool. This was no lame threat. If such a man as the Kenpachi spoke about killing you, it was not for effect, or to try and cow you into submission to make himself feel superior. It was a sign that he was honestly thinking about ending your life, and unless you were too stupid to realize this, you had best prepare to be attacked at any moment. In the presence of the Undying Demon, death was laden upon the very air you breathed.

Being the farthest thing from stupid, and a more than capable warrior, the elder fighter took a step back and placed his hands on his blade, prepared to draw it at the first hint of engagement. He had resolved long ago not to die for any reason within his control. Dismissing the peril in this situation certainly qualified.

At this, Kenpachi Zaraki licked his lips and chuckled merrily. One meat cleaver of a hand went to grasp the hilt of his nameless zanpakutō as he dropped into a fighting stance. Lieutenant Kira's look of pained discomfort metamorphosed into profound horror, and he seemed about ready to leap between the antagonists, come what may.

It was then that Ichimaru spoke.

"Actually, Kenpachi-taichou, if ya'd like to know an outsider's perspective, sounded to me more like your boys had just been volunteered as a human shield for the refined folk of the jolly Thirteenth."

The man-eating Cyclops whipped its baleful glare around to regard another potential victim.

But in Gin's case, his only response was to grin.

And raise a finger to his lips.

The sight even gave Zaraki pause.

Curled up on the silver specter's crown like a kitten in the sun was a black-and-pink ball. How she managed to remain in that position considering the limited space provided was yet one more mystery to puzzle out. Regardless of your opinions regarding this matter, judging by the happy, contented smile pasted on Yachiru Kusajishi's sleeping face, she was perfectly settled in for a long and comfortable nap.

Nothing else could have been depended upon to dissuade the war-machine's bloodlust. As it was, Yachiru's erstwhile parent gave a severe frown. Then he slowly rose out of his pose, coming back up to regard his protégé and her incomprehensible sleeping arrangement.

Everyone relaxed, except for Ichimaru, who gave no sign of having ever been out of sorts to begin with.

"That sounds damn near to what he was saying," Kenpachi rumbled, his voice like a sword being ground down on a whetstone. "So what?"

"Well…" The demonic fox tilted his head, and all three spectators drew an involuntary breath. Yachiru, however, did not slide off. She remained as firmly settled into her perch as if she had claws dug into his scalp. With no indication of disturbance on her part, Gin continued. "If Yamamoto-sama had asked you to deploy your men to the Bog on their own, you wouldn't question that, would'ja?"

The giant grunted. "Hell, no."

"So then we can assume," Gin smiled winningly, "that the source of your indignation stems not from concern over their combat effectiveness, which is unparalleled among the Court of Pure Souls, but due to the impression that the stalwart soldiers of the Eleventh are being sacrificed to spare any injury from coming to the dainty Thirteenth. Does that sound right?"

In response, his colossal cohort glowered darkly. The smirking phantom then turned his hooded eyes over to where Ukitake stood. "In that case, Captain Ukitake, you wanna hear my suggestion to dispel all these scandalous thoughts?"

A wary frown turned the lips of his intended target.

"If Zaraki-san feels there is an issue that still needs resolving, then yes, I would."

Kenpachi's fingers twitched, and he growled hungrily. The Third Squad captain pressed on regardless.

"It occurs to me that, in order ta show sufficient concern for the lives of his comrade's men, Ukitake-taichou might consent to take part in the round-up himself, by leading those dissolute daredevils into battle."

All present drew breath at this suggestion. Zaraki's mouth shut, his eye grew wide, surprise written all over his face.

And then the Kenpachi grinned. Standing in front of his significantly shorter counterpart, there didn't seem to be two more dissimilar men in all of creation. Yet at that point in time, they could have been mirror images of one another, in terms of the cold bloodthirsty smiles each wore.

Those predatory leers both turned on Ukitake Jūshirō.

"Well, Taichou?"

Their senior regarded the two hyenas steadily. There had been no overt attempt made to hide his deteriorating condition over the last few centuries. What was done instead was to quietly remove him from the rolls of strenuous activities. That was Genryūsai-Shigekuni's solution for finding one of his precious heavenly blades was beginning to rust. Were Ukitake a more prideful man, such as the likes of Byakuya Kuchiki, he might have taken offense at such treatment. But he knew the heart of his old sensei. It was not due to dissatisfaction with Jūshirō, and when you came right down to it, the decision was not made out of concern for his health. What mattered was his student's dignity, and the high mark of trust and respect that he and his two other counterparts served to represent to all the members of the Gotei 13. Were Ukitake to falter in battle (or worse yet, perish altogether), it would do irreparable harm to the foundations of Soul Society, of which he was painfully aware depended greatly on just four shinigami, himself included. They represented everything most perfect, noble and splendid to be found in their world. The other captains of the 13 Division Imperial Guards looked to the founding four to learn how to behave, and none of their company could be permitted to shame those titles. More than prestige was at stake here. Upon their shoulders rested the very sake of all souls. And never had they shirked that responsibility.

But sometimes, when he and his old friend Kyōraku sat and drank together, the question would arise: was this all they had to look forward to for the rest of their days? To be fixed, perfect, bloodless statues held up as reminders and warnings to all the rest? Was there nothing they were allowed to do that had not first met with the approval of Yamamoto and the Central 46? Everyone had a breaking point. And both former stars of the shinigami academy were finding themselves wondering often lately: just what would it take to make them reach theirs?

It was clear that Zaraki was not averse to the idea being presented, and whatever secrets Gin might be hiding behind that enduring smile, his pleasure at this situation was not one of them. Jūshirō could not shake the feeling that he was being manipulated into this. He didn't like to believe that his soul was so transparent that it could fall victim to the wiles of Ichimaru Gin, and especially not for the sake of placating the freakish living slaughter-heat that was Kenpachi Zaraki. But one of his most well-known attributes just happened to be that he was an honorable man. And when you came down to it, this assignment had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. As so many of the Commander-General's orders seemed to do of late. Frequently it was not the demands of his body that most troubled him, but those of his position, which more and more seemed to require he sacrifice some decent shinigami for the sake of preserving their heaven-sent society.

It was this that caused the moonlight god to raise his head with dignity, and reply, "I do hereby agree to this condition." Dark bistre eyes sought out that of his dangerously uncontrollable junior captain. "Does Captain Zaraki find favor with the arrangement?"

In reply, the bringer of mayhem bared teeth like a piranha.

"You think you've got what it takes to lead my boys? Just try not to embarrass yourself. Go ahead, see if you can still swim with the sharks."

The duel was finished. Ukitake bowed courteously, then turned and strode grimly away from the scene of his latest indignity.

Both captains watched him go.

From atop Ichimaru's head, Lieutenant Yachiru gave a mighty yawn, her pink tongue curling out in a most feline manner. She then bent over until she was face-to-inverted-face with her perch.

"Morning, Happy!"

"Good morning, Kusajishi-fukutaichou," he replied evenly.

"I took a nap on top of you!"

"As long as you didn't take a dump on top of me, it's all good."

"Nope!" She grinned merrily, and then vaulted off to settle with unerring accuracy on her captain's shoulder.

Gin scratched his head. "Well, Zaraki-taichou, it seems we'll have to postpone our squads' collaboration for the immediate future."

The shadow across the sun grunted disinterestedly, his mind clearly occupied by more carnivorous concerns. Gin bowed, and at a resultant nod of confirmation from the other division commander, they both turned and walked away, their adjutants respectively trailing in their wakes.

As they left, the candy-loving child lieutenant turned and waved excitedly.

"Bye, Happy! Bye, Toilet!"

And as always, Ichimaru glanced behind him and saluted, while Kira flinched and raised a hand miserably without looking back.

The leaders of the Third division continued walking for a few minutes.

After a while, Izuru spoke.

"Captain?"

"Hmm?" Gin did not break stride.

"Does… Lieutenant Kusajishi have a reason for nicknaming everyone the way she does?"

The eternal smile never wavered. "I never asked! But between you'n me, I don't think it's cuz she can't remember our names."

Kira seemed about to say something more, but then thought better of it. The pair continued back to their division grounds without further comment on the subject.

* * *

Renji was fidgeting, and couldn't stop. Normally, he wouldn't be all that concerned with others' impression of him. But as of late he was beginning to wonder if he might not be doing something that was causing all this bad luck to flow his way. Stepping on cracks, failing to fling spilled salt, heck, maybe not even noticing when black cats wandered by. Whatever the reason, it was apparent to this mongrel in particular that there was more going on than what was evident.

Take his current state, for example. Upon graduating from the shinigami academy, the ruffian from the Rukongai had been readily accepted into the Fifth division of the 13 Division Imperial Guards. It had been a most welcome surprise. Not only was he already on good terms with a very nice girl there, his fellow classmate and early graduate Momo Hinamori, but the captain of that particular branch of shinigami was a man he held in extremely high regard. No big deal, the guy had just saved his skin and the lives of some of his closest friends. But if you had asked Renji why he had become a death god a few years ago, it wouldn't have had anything to do with protecting people.

It was on that fateful night several summers ago, when he had been faced by a swarm of Hollows, that Renji had experienced something unprecedented. Not fear, or anger. But gratitude. The advanced student had only seconds past known a type of kinship and camaraderie with his two fellows that he hadn't even recognized was missing in all their times before. Certainly, at that precise instant, when it looked as though they were all destined to be devoured by inhuman monsters, Abarai had been aware of his own mortality quite strongly. Ironic, considering he was already dead. But the thing that had brought tears to his eyes, and made him curse those looming shadows from the bottom of his heart, was the knowledge that his teammates, Momo and Izuru, were about to meet the same gruesome end as himself. And there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Their lives, with all their promise and frustrations, irritations and simple joys, would never again be expressed.

It was while trying to figure out a way for them to escape, or at least be spared a few moments longer than he, that the silver arrow had soared over their heads and split the skull of the Hollow that loomed directly before them.

Aizen Sōsuke, captain of the Fifth division, and Gin Ichimaru, his lieutenant, then entered the scene and made short work of the undead menace.

After that, while they were recovering from their ordeal Renji realized that his former purpose in entering the Seireitei, namely to flee the perils of the surrounding Rukongai, had without his notice been replaced by something distinctly more… selfless. For the first time ever he thought about the name: Imperial _Guards_. That right there, that was what they were training to become. Those two men who had jumped in at the last possible moment: they were symbols, icons representing what every academy attendee was aspiring to become. Guardians of the weak, protectors for those unable to protect themselves. When you had exhausted all your efforts, and a threat to your loved ones still loomed, then the only thing you could do was pray someone stronger than you would intervene and rescue them. And maybe if you worked hard enough, that someone could actually be you.

That was why he fought as hard as he did now.

And in a way, it was the reason he had let Rukia go.

Renji stirred, rousing himself from his daydream. All around him, members of two different squads were conversing among themselves, some eagerly, others with trepidation. Before them was a dire landscape. Yellow clouds covered the heavens, while a more earthly pall oozed from the shadows in the form of silvery mist. The poisonous, twisted boughs of swamp trees were festooned with all manner of vines and creeping lichens, and the ground was a morass composed of stagnant water pocketed with muddy islands. Unseen horrors below the surface disturbed the pools with ripples. Strange lights seemed to flicker off in the distance, inviting all those too reckless or ill-informed to follow wherever they may lead.

It was a place that held no promise of comfort or even life, which some official cartographer in the distant past had christened the Malaise of the Rising Sun.

It also served as a nesting ground for Hollows.

And therefore its common appellation was Hollow's Bog.

The members of the Fourth division were moving among the crowd, distributing knee-high oiled leggings to protect ones' calves and feet. In this situation, proper apparel was nothing to be taken lightly. Even the battle-crazed representatives of the Combat Brigade like himself did not scoff at such precautions. If their captain had been present, there was no guarantee that he would have chosen to put on a good example in that respect, which would have necessitated that his absurdly loyal followers follow suit. But right now, the highest ranked officer present from their ranks was the 5th seat, and that one in particular was not keen on anything slimy or dirty being allowed to touch his meticulously maintained apparel. So they all had a reason to do the same. Yumichika Ayasegawa was not one to cross when it came to appearance.

Now so attired, the conjoined mass of exterminators was arrayed along the edge of the swamp. Their avowed mission on this day was to enter that grim scene and depopulate the area. While officially a task that had been assigned to the Thirteenth squad for this rotation, certain irregularities in protocol from the previous week had served to require the presence of a sizable company from the Eleventh, Renji Abarai included. It was no big deal. He had expected something like this. The hotheaded swordmeister had already found himself summarily disqualified from his position in the Fifth division, owing to some rather flagrant disregard for the orders of his supposedly-superior officers. That in and of itself might not have been enough to warrant his transfer. But the fact that he had followed up that insubordination by daring to fight back when said officers and their flunkies tried to kick in his teeth had been the final nail in the coffin of his aspirations. For some time following the promotion of Gin Ichimaru to the gruesomely-vacated position of Third squad captain, the role of fukutaichou for their offices had been absent. Renji had entertained the notion of filling that spot himself, and it was partly due to his willingness to speak such thoughts aloud that the senior seats had come down so hard upon him. For a time there, after he had finished kicking the collective crap out of them in a manner most shockingly decisive, the idea had floated through Renji's head that this would serve as confirmation of his worth for the role.

Sadly, Aizen-taichou had not concurred. With regret, the fatherly division leader had called the pineapple-headed pugilist into his offices and relayed the following news: that Renji Abarai, formerly of Fifth squad, was hereby transferred to Eleventh squad for conduct unbecoming a shinigami. Stunned, Renji was still sufficiently mindful to appreciate that Aizen-sama had not sugarcoated the decision. He admitted that part of this railroading was due to the prominent influence of certain well-heeled families whose proud scions had their asses handed to them in slings by a penniless vagabond from the Rukongai. They had gone so far as to go over Aizen's head altogether, petitioning the Central 46 and leveling charges that, if proven, would have resulted in more than just a transfer, but outright dismissal from the roles of service. It was only due to Captain Aizen's own petition, along with the sworn testimony of one highly regarded and passionate witness to the event named Momo Hinamori, that they had been able to avert such a tragedy, as the captain had chosen to refer to it.

There wasn't any shame, really. Abarai felt that by not doing what he had, that would have been something to be remorseful about. Rather, it was the sense of disappointment he felt coming from a person he held in such high regard; not just for his admittedly heedless actions, but for the outrageously elitist response. Aizen had expressed his regret at losing someone whom he had described as officer material, and right then his subordinate knew that he had missed out on something forever. Whatever the Eleventh squad turned out to be, it had become clear to him that there was no possibility of his promotion through the ranks. That door was immutably closed. And with it, a tiny hope had been snuffed out.

"FALL IN!"

The cry went up along the lines. Renji obeyed. On either side of him there were two fellow shinigami, one rather unremarkable-looking man, and a woman sporting one of the eye-catching hairdos favored by the followers of Kenpachi Zaraki. Regardless of sharing a barracks with one, he was acquainted with neither of them. The Combat Division had certainly lived up to its reputation, especially in terms of the sort of people that comprised it. Remarkably, though, the unwilling transfer had found himself warming to their manically destructive personalities. There was a sense of freedom in those ranks which had appealed to him greatly, almost enough to help him forget that his dream of advancement and equality with a certain old friend would forever remain just that: a dream. But in his new position, Renji had found a teacher worthy of his profoundest admiration, though he had to admit to fearing him a little. His sensei had also helped to break the ice in terms of social relations, which was partly the reason he had been able to hold and manage the raucous party that was the root cause of his current predicament.

"CHECK YOUR WEAPONS!"

There was the sound of thousands of swords being drawn at once. Virtually the entire army of the 13th was represented here. With his own brethren to back them, there should be nothing to worry about. Right?

But the young warrior was sweating, in spite of the chill afforded in this place.

Somewhere in this packed crowd, his closest living friend was standing with her sword drawn, just as he was. He had no idea at all whether or not Rukia Kuchiki was anymore proficient with the use of the blade than just Rukia-chan had been. And he couldn't seek her out to try and protect her. Not with the way they had parted on that fateful day, and his only chance of amending that mistake being tossed to the wind by one reckless decision. How could he ever expect her to even look at him with anything approaching respect, if all he had to offer her was a squalid barracks room and a worn sword?

_Such gloomy thoughts. Do not think of your partner in terms of your own shortcomings._

Well, that was true. And even if he did not consider himself up to championing the Kuchiki princess, that did not mean he had to just resign himself to impotence, right?

_Precisely._

He had his ways.

In the end, it was good to have a friend you could turn to for help.

* * *

"Kuchiki Rukia?"

Rukia lifted her head.

Standing to her left, in a place where she was certain a member of her regiment had just previously occupied, there was a fairly tall, bewitchingly attractive young death god. His gleaming black hair was fashioned in a perfect bob-cut. Royal purple eyes regarded her from features so silky-smooth and refined they could have passed for a woman's. There were brightly colored feathers woven into his eyebrow and lashes, which must certainly mark him as a member of the Eleventh, owing to their bizarre fashion sense. In addition, the man wore an orange neck guard, long leather tassels connecting it to a similar sleeve-shield, and a smile that could have melted the heart of a Hollow. He even smells nice, she thought distractedly.

"You are Rukia Kuchiki, are you not?"

The direct question brought her out of her reverie. What's the matter with me? We're about to launch an assault on a well-known enemy nest! Why am I considering the merits of a stranger I just met?

_Focus, girl, focus! Time to swap room numbers later!_

Hush! Now is not the time for that!

Feeling a bit more in control of herself, if not the situation, the slight shinigami spoke.

"I am, sir. Was there anything I could help you with?"

"Oh, no, not at the moment. Though it's charming of you to ask, I must say. Permit me to introduce myself: Yumichika Ayasegawa, Fifth seat of Squad Eleven. It's a pleasure."

Rukia blinked, surprised. "Likewise, I'm sure."

To be addressed by a ranked officer was no rare occurrence, in her experience. But that was usually from those upwardly mobile souls looking to impress upon the representative of the Kuchiki family their good characters and insincere flatteries. To have a member of the rough-and-rowdy Eleventh engage in anything remotely resembling flirting was a boondoggle serious enough to warrant having to pinch oneself.

_Flirting? Who said he was flirting with you? _

He knows my name.

_So does the guy who cuts your hair! Are you going to mount him next time you see him? Get your head back in the game!_

But in spite of this perfectly reasonable suggestion, the maiden continued to regard her new comrade intently. He, for his part, did the exact same thing. Almost as if he found people staring at him not only natural, but a perfectly acceptable means of social interaction.

Right now Rukia was finding nothing in her noble training that could be relied upon to help her in this matter. That was becoming more of a common occurrence than she might have initially thought. Perhaps she should try to locate someone more suitable to teach her about shinigami interactions? Kaien-fukutaichou certainly knew what it was like to be both a noble and a death god, but his perceptions of proper behavior left something to be desired. Plus he was commanding the rear guard, while she was in the vanguard at her express behest under the direction of their captain. There would be no talk of her receiving special treatment on this mission. However, in this unforeseen event, there was one thing that clearly stood out in Rukia's memory.

"Pardon me, Ayasegawa-san."

"Yes, Rukia-chan?"

_What honorific did he just use?_ _Never mind, forget it!_

"Forgive me, but… how did you come to know my name?"

In her own division, it was no secret. But for his…

In response, Yumichika flashed a dazzling smile.

"Oh, I just asked who might be the prettiest girl in the entire Squad Thirteen, and your name came up several times. I had to see for myself. I'm drawn to people and things of exquisite beauty, so it's only natural that we of the fairest sex remain close, don't you agree?"

_Wait…What…? Did he just…? OH, SCREW IT, AGREE!_

"Yes." Total blank, but the pretty head-case took no offense, only turned his head and raised his zanpakutō in readiness. She remembered to do the same, just as the shout came out.

"COMMENCE ADVANCE!"

They entered the swamp, and Rukia resolved to part from this disturbing individual as soon as possible.

* * *

In the depths of their stronghold, the spirits of the lost and forsaken sensed the coming of their mortal enemies.

When they did, all eyes turned to a newcomer.

Robed in white, the figure they had raised on high looked out upon the gathered throngs.

"This is not your day to die," it spoke. "They are chaff before the scythe, blood upon the rocks, lambs to the slaughter. I promised you that they would fear you, and I will make it so."

The hordes exulted at the prospect.

"Welcome to the harvest."

A hand waved in dismissal, and the lords of the night slunk off to their appointed positions.

The leader then turned to confront its hand-picked chosen.

"Afraid to die?"

"No," they responded in unison.

"Afraid to die poorly?"

"Yes."

"Then don't."

One and all then blended into the mists, their master in the lead.

* * *

"See anything yet, Rukia-chan?"

"No, sir."

He was following her. There was no mistaking it. Wherever she went, he was not far behind. And to come right out and ask him to find another stretch of marsh to scour just did not suit her. As it was, Rukia had resolved to bear the burden of Yumichika Ayasegawa's frankly incomprehensible presence with as much tact and grace as she could muster.

_Why is circumspection necessary on a death-hunt?_

If I only knew, she thought.

In between one breath and the next, something scampered through the rushes on her left. The home-schooled aristocrat spun, bringing up her blade just as a giant three-legged beast with a warthog's skull charged forth, snarling and rooting the air with its tusks.

It was her first Hollow.

And Rukia thought she was about to freeze up.

_Jump._

She obeyed the command instantly, leaping high and performing a vertical flip in midair to keep the target in sight, just as her instructors at the manor had taught. Precisely as Kaien-sensei had encouraged.

The thing passed right under her. Robes flapping and rustling like a pair of wings, Rukia watched its body move as if in slow motion. She caught bulging, twisting muscles in its broad back, and the look of surprise in its wide glowing eyes as it turned its snout up to look at her. They might have been part of a choreographed dance. When their gazes met, it was like nothing else existed in the world to either of them but the other.

It was due to this that both missed Yumichika's blade drive forth and take the masked abomination in the throat.

Time restarted for Rukia, leaving her somewhat shocked at the transfer. Her comrade had done something then. It looked as if he might have caught it on his shoulder and flipped the great beast somehow, but it was so fast she couldn't tell. Clearly in doing so his zanpakutō had proceeded on its course and disemboweled its target, for the monster now lay gasping and twitching on its side, blood and organs spilling from its neck down to its belly. Then between one jerk and the next, it simply dissolved into flecks of shadow that disappeared in the yellow half-light.

Kuchiki landed, fighting to right her sense of balance for a moment. When she did, it was to see her winsome admirer walking forwards, pulling a kerchief from within his robes to dab at drops of blood on his face.

"Nicely done, deflecting both his attention and yourself, Rukia-chan."

"Thank you," she mumbled faintly, unable to take her eyes off him for some reason. It was the first time she had witnessed a Hollow purification outside of recordings.

"I didn't…" Rukia swallowed, her throat feeling dry and rusty. "I didn't sense it coming…"

"Neither did I." The feathered dandy no longer looked amused in the slightest.

They stood watching one another for a few breaths.

Then a black butterfly drifted lazily between them.

And a scream tore the early morning air.

The death gods turned in the direction from which it seemed to originate. It was not the cry of a Hollow, whether in mortal agony or not. That noise originated from the throat of one of their allies.

Rukia was just about to head off to help, when it happened.

From all around them, shrieking sounded.

Both near and distant, human and not, the sounds wove in with indecipherable shouts and desperate screamed orders. Throughout the eerily tranquil locale, there came the unmistakable cacophony that heralded battle.

And slaughter.

Rigid with shock, she looked to her superior, face asking a hundred different questions.

Ayasegawa answered the most important one.

"You're not going to die," he told her softly.

At this assurance, the girl's muscles unclenched, and she raised her sword to her shoulder.

"Yes, sir."

"_That's_ a beautiful pose, to be sure."

He proceeded forward, beckoning her to follow in his wake, which Rukia did without any qualms.

* * *

As Renji thrust the tip of his weapon into the creature's neck, impaling it against the sodden dirt, its partner lunged at his face, jaws agape.

With a howl of rage, the stray dog spun about and drove his elbow into the bone-white face. It caved in from the force of the blow, and the monster collapsed on its stomach with a dying wheeze.

He wrenched his sword free, panting and staring wild-eyed all about him. What the hell was this? Where were they all coming from? Why couldn't he sense their presence? _THE FUCK WAS HAPPENING HERE?_

The sound of splashing came from the rear, and Abarai whirled, blade at the ready. Then his death god perceptions honed in, and he lowered the tip slightly.

Tearing across the clearing were a pair of shinigami from either division. They were blood-spattered and torn, but clearly undaunted.

"Hey!" one of them called raggedly, raising an arm. "You hear anything from headquarters, or the rear guard? They figured out what's going on here?"

"I…No!" he shouted back.

"Forget that!" the other burst out, eyes wild with some unspecific emotion. "We gotta find the captain! He needs our help!"

Renji hesitated, swaying on his feet from the adrenaline rush. "It's just like before. Just like that time before. They're hiding their reiatsu somehow. Where's…?" He raised a hand to his head, feeling slightly feverish. "Where's Rukia? I have to find Rukia."

"_Dammit, don't just stand there!"_ the second shinigami roared. "Come with us, we need to stick together now!"

They took off past him, not even waiting for a response. Renji watched them for a few moments more. Why did it seem like they were retreating? Wasn't this supposed to be an easy assignment, routine mopping-up of starving Hollows? Their backs were in it, though. Like something was goading the monsters on. And if that something really did light a fire under their asses, what _would _stop them from attacking a captain?

Or anyone else, for that matter?

Several seconds slipped by, feeling like an eternity to Renji. Whom should he go to save? What did he want to do here? What was his best option?

_Trust your comrades. _

There was someone out there with a lot more experience than himself close to Rukia. And if, heaven forbid, Captain Ukitake did go down, then this would turn into a bloodbath in no time. No shinigami could keep it together after feeling one of the top brass buy it.

So resolved, Renji focused in on the unmistakable aura of one of the 13 Squad captains, and proceeded to track it.

* * *

Hollows, swarming by the thousands.

Shinigami, forming into tight little pockets of resistance.

And in the midst of it all, several highly concentrated reiatsu.

Which was the one that required killing?

A ghost moved through the rotten forest.

* * *

"Look out!" Ukitake cried.

His warning came too late, as a dappled brute of a Hollow broke through the wall of shinigami that had erected themselves around him. Blades of a dozen descriptions fell upon it from all sides, and the travesty of a dead man bellowed in fury, swinging its great arms to scatter the measly black-garbed butterflies that swarmed around it. Several smaller Hollow saw their chance and darted in to grab up the fallen, dragging them screaming back into the fog that cloaked this battleground. The largest and most dangerous of their kin then drove forward, using the giant's assault as a breach and then acting as a spearhead to pierce the compressed ranks of their opponents. Coming for him.

It was such an orderly attack, the ailing commander had to wonder where they had found such focus. His own men seemed lackluster and diffused by comparison.

Jūshirō knew one thing for certain. Whomever was directing this attack, the reason for doing so could be traced back to one person: himself. As a captain, his reiatsu registered much higher than any other shinigami present. And since he had ordered those within earshot under his command to regroup on his location, the added impact of all those soul signatures was serving to attract every single Hollow in the vicinity. They had been forced to earth in an area that was of particular disadvantage in terms of the terrain; two hills on either side, giving the enemy a chance to gain the high ground and observe the battlefield from a safe distance. He had been making for one of those hillocks himself when the conflict had overtaken him. Now they were fighting a losing action.

At the center of the encirclement, Ukitake then flash-stepped out, kicked up the body of the great ram-brute leading the wedge, and sank his blade into its temple even as it reached blood-stained hands up to crush him.

Swaying on his dying perch, he vaulted off, and the behemoth fell back to crush its accompanying brethren under its vast bulk.

Coordinated? Yes. Adaptive? No. The shell of shinigami closed up around the blunted offense, making swift work of those trapped inside. The ones on the outside shrank back, perhaps cowed by his feat, or probably waiting for more formidable allies to arrive. Thankfully his condition had not chosen this time to manifest, so there was nothing keeping him from leading his forces into…

Into what?

A massacre?

No, the ancient warrior corrected himself. The word that best described this affair was 'trap.'

And he had already led them into it.

The enemy's numbers were unguessable. His people were scattered throughout the swamp. Even if he were able to get them to regroup, what then? Sit there and wait while the Hollows hammered on them, until one side ran out of men? That held no appeal for him, especially with the inexplicable disruption of communication preventing him from contacting their reinforcements. Plus with the demons being able to hide their presence, hunting them down in a coordinated effort would prove next to impossible.

There was really only one thing left to do.

Yamamoto could upbraid him for it later. Policy be damned. He would accept the consequences.

With that, Ukitake looked out on his desperate, frightened forces, and gave a command he had not issued in centuries.

"RETREAT!"

* * *

"_Mistress, I have found him."_

She paused.

"_I die."_

The life of the great Hollow Durahm faded from her mind.

It brought a smile to her lips.

"Well done."

* * *

Renji forged his way through the ankle-deep brackish water. Mud, sweat, and offal spattered his body, but he persevered. Several other enemies had fallen by his blade, and still it felt like he was making no progress. The two he was following seemed to have the same impression of what direction to travel as himself, so they remained within his field of vision. Still, there was no way to tell how long it would be until they finally found...

Through the line of trees, he saw a person dressed in white.

A captain's haori!

The striving soldier increased his pace at the same time as his fellows. He heard them shout in greeting.

But even as he quickened his advance, something dawned on Renji.

He knew the feel of a specific captain's spiritual impact. It was unforgettable. This figure wasn't nearly similar to that. In addition, his sense of where Ukitake actually was remained some ways off. And that one up ahead…

There wasn't a sense coming off of it at all.

Renji smelled the air. Mixed in with the putrescent odor of the swamp that he could not seem to acclimate himself to, there was something disturbingly grotesque. Almost like a pile of rotting corpse-meat.

The realization of their mistake also seemed to have dawned on his forward leads. They drew to a halt, several yards away from the snow-colored stranger. On instinct, the straggler moved off to the side, giving him a clear look at the face of this enigma.

Several things impressed themselves upon his brain.

It was a person standing there. No doubt about it. To be precise, a woman. She stood about as tall as he was, dressed in an odd combination of billowing bone-white pantaloons and a weirdly cut jacket that left the top of her chest and shoulders bare. A black silk sash cut diagonally across her torso, and her arms were enveloped in the tight-fitting sleeves of her coat. In her black-gloved hands, she carried what appeared to be a copper-colored warhammer and a wickedly curved hunting knife. The head of the club was fashioned into the shape of a snarling dragon, its neck coiling down the weapon's haft, while a similar serpent was crawling up the blunt edge of the dagger. Her head was shaved, at least on the sides, while a length of blazing copper-colored hair on her crown was tied back to fall in a warrior's knot. The apparition's gleaming skin had an aged ivory cast to it, and driven through her nose was a golden needle. She appeared to be wearing dark glasses upon first inspection. But as Renji drew closer, a disturbing premonition came upon him. Those black holes where her eyes should have been; they looked almost exactly like the gaping pits of a Hollow mask, fastened to this eerie figure's face by a diadem of bone anchored to her temples.

The woman was facing right towards him, and there could be no doubt that she knew he was there. But she did not move or call out to any of them. What was this?

One of the other shinigami, the one from Rukia's unit, called out to her.

"Who are you, woman? What division are you with?"

The head turned to regard him.

And she moved.

In a blur.

Nothing had ever impinged upon Renji's sense of disbelief quite like this. It was as if she became an ink portrait dipped into water, the colors blending and running in one direction. But an instant later, he picked her up again, standing before the fellow from the Thirteenth, and she was…

Stabbing him.

Fast fast fast, again and again, the knife went into his stomach, and all he could do was gape. Then the man seemed to register what was happening, and he began screaming. The murderess hoisted her victim up and rammed him back against the side of a tree, pinning his bulk there on her spike.

The other combat veteran didn't waste time with words. He raised his zanpakutō and charged forth with a magnificent battle cry. Renji then felt like he was watching a play of some kind. A comedy. The killer turned to meet his charge, the soul cutter stabbed forth, and it was like she passed right through him to appear at his back. No, that wasn't it. She must have moved so fast around him that it hadn't registered to either of their perceptions. And there was no time to stop, as the shinigami fighter's determined thrust went through the spot she had just occupied and buried itself in the navel of his partner.

There came another scream. The unwitting assailant froze, and behind him, the white ghost spun, bringing her hammer up in an underhand blow that slammed into his groin, visibly lifting him off the ground. No time was left to cry out, for before his feet could hit the surface of the bog once more, the dragon mace rose in an arc and crashed through the top of his skull.

Limp fingers released the battle-hardened blade and fell to his sides. The shinigami's knees crumpled, and as they did, she jerked the weapon free, still encrusted with his brains, and grasped his head in both hands. While Renji watched in horror, the woman's head then bent low, and she buried her face in the hole left by her attack.

A slurping, crunching noise could clearly be heard across the way. The muscles in her shoulders and neck stood out clearly against the flawless skin as this phantom woman engaged in a fit of the most grotesque cannibalism imaginable. Her observer felt himself grow numb. It was like watching an animal feasting on its prey. But instead it was… human. Humans playing the parts, as one gorged upon the other. It wasn't natural. Wrong. So wrong, so hugely impossibly against the grain of everything that could be sensible and real it didn't bear description. No more, he thought. Make it stop, please, someone, anyone, don't make me watch this please make it stop I don't want to remember this…somebody …help me to forget what I've seen…

I…want to...run…or die…I want to…

_I want you…to kill that thing._

Renji's jaw clenched.

_You are no longer a child, running through the streets of the Rukongai in fear for your life. When you accepted this role, it was predicated on the belief that something better would come about for you. Not just comforts of the soul, but those of the heart. To be free of fear. Have you forgotten the price necessary for that comfort?_

He felt his heart begin to beat faster.

_Whatever the reason or lack thereof for this fight, you are in it! If you were to run now, even if you managed to survive, there would be no further point in living, would there? Dogs survive. A cur on the street will fight only when backed into a corner, and it sees no way out. Men fight when they cannot bear to live without something precious they would otherwise lose! _

Breath like a cold rasp in his throat.

_You thought of plays before. Does this line strike a chord? "Die with honor, when you can no longer live with it!"_

His body went into its battle stance, sword at the ready. Before him, the demoness tensed and turned about, dragging her meal with her. She reached over and pulled her knife from the corpse on a tree.

_SPEAK THE NAME!_

A long black tongue was protruding from the dead man's mouth, lapping at the blood dripping down his scalp, caressing over his staring eyeballs.

Her opponent _roared_!

"HOWL, ZABIMARU!"

The metal glowed, energy expanding outward. In a flare of spirit power, there came into being a great segmented battle-spike, hooks protruding from its parts and ending in a huge guillotine blade of a point.

The serpent's appendage retracted through the dead jaws. Her head came up, and she spit out a chunk of gray matter as her latest kill fell with a splash into muddy water.

Renji didn't offer his name. This was not a contest of honor.

It was a fight to the death.

He hefted his shikai, and swung.

The hooks extended on metal sinews, stretching like a whip to twenty times the weapon's previous length. His target was already moving off to one side, and the blow scraped along the side of the tree, uprooting it with the force of his swing. The boost of power that his partner provided seemed to enable him to track her movements better. She was airborne now, and with a practiced flip of his wrist, Renji sent the lance of death skyward with a snap, honing in on her position.

There was an impact. He felt it, jarring right through to his bones. For a fleeting moment, the tattooed death god thought he caught a glimpse of her crossing both bronzed murder implements together to meet his attack. And then Zabimaru was hanging in midair, and the killer was back to earth, dashing towards him at thrice the rate of his own pounding heart with hammer at the ready, knife held before her.

Renji couldn't move in time to avoid it. This was obvious. But he was no newcomer to combat. So instead of running, the king of the streets stood his ground, turned his wrist and called the whip-scythe back.

Zabimaru's speed and agility were greater than his own. He meant to cut her in half if he could, because even should he die doing so, it was better than floundering about and letting this inhuman lightning bolt cut him open to feast on his innards. The individual axe-heads retracted, coming together with their protruding tips aimed at the villainess' waist. She could duck, but doing so meant the blades coming from behind would just slice her scalp off instead of her whole torso. Or just dodge away, aborting her attack in favor of another standoff. These were the three outcomes Renji deemed most likely.

But apparently, he was the only one of that mind.

One razor-edged prong came down right before her, and the rest sped in from behind.

So she stabbed her knife into the cords that bound the blades, and stopped in her tracks.

The locomotive of edged force slammed to a halt, Zabimaru completely retracted up to that point. The extended arc now hung effortlessly between the woman and Renji.

He stared into those empty black circles, while she did the same.

Perspiration dripped down his face.

The lady's lips parted.

"Sacrifice," she spoke, and then gave an approving nod, before yanking back and pulling the handle from Renji's sweat-stained hand.

He watched his guardian spirit fly through the air to land with a splash in the swamp-water.

"I applaud the effort."

Her voice was clear and unaffected by strain.

"And lament it."

The colors seemed to blend again, before she appeared right in front of where he stood, the big knife darting in toward his left eye.

Renji wondered how Rukia was faring.

There was a white blur.

A blade came up, knocking away the strike before returning to dart towards the woman's jugular.

She jerked back, extending her hammer up to catch the danger on its shaft, and the edge drew only a faint trickle of blood from the hollow of her throat.

Over a white-robed shoulder, Renji saw the nameless assassin suddenly land several yards away. He then realized something else. There was a man standing before him. His hair was long and pristinely white, much like the robe that decorated his frame. Sword extended, the figure turned to regard the unranked trooper with a baleful stare.

"I've given the order to retreat," Ukitake Jūshirō stated grimly. "Help me spread the word. Go on. I'll handle this." He then looked over to where their enemy waited patiently.

The man who owed him his life stared straight ahead. "Sir," he rasped. "I regret I cannot obey that order."

The captain did not take his eyes off the woman in white. "Why not?"

Renji heard power and anger in that tone, either on its own enough to make his legs shake. Like from when he was in the presence of that stone-faced lordling all those years ago. The thought of Byakuya Kuchiki reminded him of something then, and he swallowed down his fear.

"Because I ain't leaving until that bitch is dead."

Ukitake listened to his subordinate's words, and looking around the battlefield, he found that he understood the feeling behind them.

"Then retrieve your sword, son. And be careful."

The red-haired death god took a step forward.

"Go for that weapon, and you're sure to die here."

She was speaking again, and Renji froze.

"Run now, and you just might live to see your loved ones again. Think it over, shinigami."

Beside him, the ailing division leader narrowed his eyes on the source of that threat.

"Before you attempt any more insults towards my people, whether verbal or not, I must inform you that whoever you are, this disgusting swamp will have to serve for your grave."

He then lifted his zanpakutō. An incantation fell from his lips.

"_All Waves, Rise now and become my Shield, Lightning, Strike now and become my Blade!"_

The silvery-edged sword flashed, and a thunderclap of power exploded in the midst of that morass. Both other combatants drew back apace. In each of the captain's palms, there now appeared hooked blades bound to each other at the hilts by a crimson band decorated with silver talismans. The angles were sharp, as were the edges of the twin nihontō.

"_Sōgyo no Kotowari!"_

Renji glanced back over his shoulder. When the death god killer had drawn away from the force of Ukitake's shikai release, he had taken this opportunity to retrieve his own soul cutter. Raising Zabimaru to his shoulder, the young fighter watched his ancient elder with something akin to stupefied awe. This was his first time observing a captain ascend to the next level. Even when they were actively striving to suppress their powers, standing in the presence of one of the Soul Society's top players left anyone else feeling rather weak at the knees. Just being around his own current captain, Kenpachi Zaraki, gave Abarai a splitting migraine. That man had no appreciation for the term 'self-restraint.' But if this right here was what these guys were really capable of, then perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing to let his ambitions simply fade away, because there was just no comparison between them.

As if reading his mind, the viper opened her mouth again.

"I didn't sense you coming. I can only assume it's because that one over there had such a strong reiatsu once he released his shikai, it served to keep me occupied. But there's certainly no comparison now, is there, death god captain?"

Yes. Entirely too close for comfort.

In response, Ukitake lifted his head, eyes narrowed maliciously.

"You are a Hollow."

Renji started violently. What? _THAT_ was a Hollow? No friggin' way, she looks human! Sort of.

The figure in question bowed, never taking her gaze from her cloud-colored opponent.

"Like no other."

"Your level?"

She smiled. "Would you believe _vasto lorde_?"

He did not return the grin. "I think not."

"_Adjuchas_, then."

"Better." The whipcord-thin nobleman extended his blades, crossing them before his face.

"I am Ukitake Jūshirō, captain of Division 13 in the Seireitei."

The Hollow gave a snort, and reached up. Grasping the side of her bone glasses, she raised them slightly, revealing completely green eyes with red-slit pupils, like a snake.

"Natella Contracorriente."

The mask remnant dropped again, and she leveled the dragon-knife, blade held sideways, while raising the warhammer into position behind her head.

Then both sprang forth, and where they met a geyser of water erupted all around them to soar high into the smog-yellow sky.

_To be continued…_


	4. The Bog: The Three vs the Third

"Sir," a soldier from her division swallowed. "Sir, I think we need to conduct a damage assessment and establish a cordon of the area."

Rukia did not have to look at her compatriot to know how he would react to this statement. She had seen sufficient evidence in the last twenty minutes to realize that his response would be…

"My shiny teeth, but you're ugly."

The man in question gave a start, blinking confusedly. "Sir?"

"Not your looks," Yumichika spoke, the fashion-plate's gaze raking up and down the other shinigami's body. "I'm referring to your attitude. When one is beautiful as I am, and to a lesser extent you are, then it involves a certain appreciation of conduct. It is our right to be admired. But just as a painting might suffer from the frame in which it is placed, we must bear in mind how we comport ourselves. Namely, we do not look to others for confirmation on how to behave in a death-match. And we do not go mucking up said death-match with ridiculous terms like 'damage assessment' and 'establish a cordon'. It simply isn't beautiful to treat battle like an exercise in bureaucratic efficiency."

"Now then," Rukia's self-imposed shadow proceeded merrily. "Why don't you take a hint from the thirty or so other Squad 13 members hovering on the perimeter of my vision and make yourself scarce. In my division, we never look to someone else to offer us assistance in combat the way you're obviously doing. Run along now."

He made a shooing motion, and the shocked subordinate stumbled off to join one of the five or six crowds of his division fellows huddled about the Fifth seat.

"If that's what you believe, then why do you insist on hanging around near me?"

There was a pronounced lack of posh civility in Rukia's current tone. Yumichika, however, gave no indication of being disappointed or shocked by her choice of words.

"Because if I am required to die today, I want the last thing I see to be something astonishingly beautiful, and you certainly qualify, Rukia-chan."

The lady of Seireitei was uncertain which of these statements was more difficult to believe; his cavalier attitude towards death, or his endless protestations about her attractiveness. Still, in a way, Ayasegawa's bizarre eccentricities were the only things keeping her from falling apart right now.

The battle had been joined, and she found it ugly. Several men and women had died within her field of vision or perception, dragged down by Hollows who proceeded to feast upon them. Were she not engaged in life-or-death struggles herself, Rukia would have tried to go to their aid. But in almost half an hour, she had been forced to bring her training and skills to bear against more corrupt souls than she had known even existed in the whole world. There was some part of her brain keeping track, but at a certain point it must have lost count. If her calculations were correct, then she and Yumichika must have dispatched over a hundred Hollows in less time than it took her squad to undergo a regimental inspection. Right now, Rukia was finding such displays of martial conformity and drilled etiquette rather pointless by comparison.

On the other hand, she had not received so much as a scratch thus far. Either she had paid better attention in class, or there was more to the training undergone at Kuchiki manor than met the eye.

That or it was just Yumichika.

Since the barrage started, he had never left her side. Other shinigami were apparently quick to pick out the presence of a very powerful and highly-ranked officer and proceeded to gravitate towards him. But whenever one of them came charging along, the feathered dandy had promptly informed them that he was not interested in leading them anywhere or offering protection. According to him, it was against the spirit of the Eleventh. And it was true, there were no other members of his battalion to be seen here. Apparently they were all off making their own stands against the denizens of the swamp. Whether it would be a last stand or not didn't seem to concern them, at least not in Ayasegawa's case.

Whatever the motivation, the promise offered by numbers and having someone watching your back was apparently hard to drill out of her fellow warriors. Camaraderie meant more to them than just drinking and brawling in taverns. It was about respecting your teammates while recognizing that everyone needs help at one time or another.

Perhaps it was something of this division sentiment that made Rukia feel somewhat relieved to have the good-looking fighter by her side.

More calls of nightmarish origin sounded nearby, and she gripped her sword hilt tightly.

"Don't be tense," Yumichika admonished her softly. "It upsets your rhythm, Rukia-chan. When you're in battle, you like to dance. I've seen it. So don't let your imagination prevent you from responding to your innate drive."

She shot a glance up at him. "If you don't stop checking me out, the last thing you see isn't going to be my dancing ass, it'll be a Hollow's stomach juices."

"As long as you killed it afterwards." He smiled pleasantly, unoffended. "And between you and me, it's a very nice posterior."

Another sarcastic comment was on her lips, when suddenly the world tilted violently.

Rukia's feet almost came out from under her. Instinctively she crouched down low, stabilizing her center of balance. This action was also prompted by the sudden impression that a huge weight had suddenly landed on her shoulders.

Yumichika reached out a hand, gripping her elbow and raising her back up. The sword-wielding leprechaun gazed at him uncertainly, trembling from the undiminished invisible force that threatened to bury her. All around them, other death gods seemed to be having even greater difficulty in keeping their positions.

"W…w-what…?" she stammered.

"Trouble, I'm afraid." The flashy model did not appear to be unduly affected, but his face had grown unaccountably grim. "What you're feeling is the power of a captain. For some reason, Ukitake-taichou has seen fit to unleash his shikai. And considering how strong it feels, I think his purpose in doing so just might prove to be the death of a great many of us."

* * *

Two weapons. For both of them. It was so well-matched it was like someone had planned this.

Renji watched.

Natella's hammer clashed with one of Sōgyo's prongs, her butcher knife flashed to meet the other, and then she attempted to head-butt him.

The defending movement on Ukitake's part could have been a shoulder-block, driving her attack away. Except it happened so fast all Renji got was an impression of two white streaks going across his field of vision. Then they stood at the ready once more several paces apart.

It was hard to give credit to such speed being possible. But something more deeply disturbing was becoming clear to the overlooked observer to this duel.

Namely, that it was still going on.

The captain hadn't killed her in the first minute. And not for lack of trying. Which, if you played it out to its logical conclusion, and Renji was a big fan of logic, could only mean that…

"She's strong as a captain," he whispered in amazement.

A Hollow. That looked human. And was on par with the best fighters in the Gotei 13.

Suddenly nothing made sense anymore.

Nobody had ever mentioned anything like this. Even the possibility. Where was it coming from? Could the higher-ups have been keeping something like this a secret? He'd been told stories of Menos Grande, but this… it didn't come close to explaining any of the day's events.

What the hell could it mean?

And how the hell could he have thought he was able to make any sort of worthwhile contribution to this fight?

Contracorriente lunged, both weapons extended at her opponent's face. He countered with just one blade, and though the force of her charge actually drove him back a step, the white knight's second sword licked out with the intention of chopping off one of her hands. His agile antagonist's foot flashed, connecting with his arm in time to deflect it. As the slice went wide, her arm seemed to bend, and the dragon-hammer's head went under the arc of the secondary blade on Sōgyo no Kotowari's warding half. The deadly implements hooked together, entangling like two serpents.

Natella's knife then moved to catch another blow from Ukitake's right hand. Each of them had their arms extended diagonally in either direction, almost like fan-waving cheerleaders now, when the golden-skinned battle-maiden shot out her leg. The fair head moved to one side to avoid the blow.

Then it was like things stopped being clear to Renji once more. The Hollow and shinigami remained in their positions, arms extended to counter the other's weapons. But Natella's kicks were coming like rain now, so fast he couldn't make out one from the next. His commander's head was also out of focus. It was flowing from side to side until there was just a smear of white and pink. None of her blows connected. All that happened was Ukitake moved back and his attacker followed, seeming to glide over the water without any need to move her stable leg. They were sweeping all around the stage now, like two ice-skaters on the surface of a frozen pond when…

The first-class officer kicked! And Renji saw that blow connect.

Natella flew, coming to land just a few feet from where their awestruck audience stood. While he was staring at her, entranced, he heard his superior shout.

"Bakudō 68: _Rising Mountain Crystal!"_

Around the crouching cannibal, a blue pyramid shot up to encase her in its sky-blue confines. This level of kidō spell was powerful enough to keep a strong lieutenant secured with ease, and being cast by a master like Jūshirō, that meant it was doubly effective.

Before Renji, the blood-soaked warrior-woman rose slowly to her feet.

Her head turned, and the Hollow lifted her eyewear again, regarding him impassively. Their gazes met.

She could have said something to him then.

And she did.

_"Cero."_

The red pupils blazed, and scarlet energy erupted from out of them. The azure monolith was lit with a purple flash.

Then it exploded.

Renji gaped, as Natella leapt forth and fell upon him.

Ukitake interposed himself between them once more. His foot came back, knocking Renji aside. Now almost horizontal, the captain had the look of a white crane, standing on one leg, arms raised and both blades clasped together.

The unranked fighter heard metal clash, and all the colors in the world seemed to be inverted to his sight, as two black shadows engaged. He hit the ground a few seconds later, and frantically scrambled to his feet.

The snow-capped shinigami was crouching down, both blades extended to either side. His eyes were wide open.

Behind him, Natella Contracorriente stood facing away from her opponent.

For a time nothing moved.

Only blood.

Spilling out into the bog.

Renji's protector coughed slightly. The Hollow turned to regard him.

Crimson fluid was streaming down her side.

"Remarkable show, old man," she whispered resonantly. "Yes, most impressive."

Ukitake made the circuit of his position to regard her. He did not speak.

Her fangs were bared.

"You're much better than the last captain I killed."

Clutching her wound, the creature then reached back with her hammer, and yanked down. Where the copper jaws passed, a tear took form in the very air, opening onto the most intense darkness the Rukongai stray had ever seen. She crouched and backed into it, almost seeming to bow in doing so. But the mocking smile on her face was in no way respectful.

"I will _skeletonize you!"_ she hissed, and then the portal closed.

The redheaded fighter stared at the spot she had just vacated, before turning to ask his leader what the hell was going…

And Ukitake coughed up bright blood.

* * *

Red jewels fell from her fingertips as Natella Contracorriente came back out into the fetid marsh air. Before her there loomed a rotted-out hulk of a tree, its roots extending into the pool of clear water in which she now stood. The gash in her ribcage was beginning to throb with pain.

The arrancar touched bloody fingers to her lips, and smiled.

She brought the gore-soaked warhammer up before her face.

"Encircle…" she whispered, and kissed the dragon's maw.

_"Lambton Yrm!"_

Then the unmasked demon plunged the knife into her wounded side.

* * *

As Rukia drove her blade through the back of the Hollow's mask, a ripple passed through the water.

Considering they were jumping around in it, that shouldn't have drawn much notice. Except the surge was so omnipresent, it registered as more than just peripheral happenstance. It was like someone dropped a huge stone into the swamp, and the effect spread out to its very edge.

The adopted heiress cast a questioning glance in Yumichika's direction. He cocked his head to one side, as if listening for something. As she was about to ask him what, it suddenly dawned on her.

Silence.

All around them, the sounds of battle and death were absent.

The world held its breath.

Then, from up in a tree, one shinigami shouted, "I see something!"

She pointed, and they all looked in the direction indicated.

At first there was nothing.

Of a sudden, Rukia caught sight of movement far off. Under the water. She tried to focus on it, but then a shape off to the side of that one darted up quickly, plunging back in before her eyes could make it out.

While watching this, she realized something.

It wasn't isolated. The same thing was happening all across her range of sight. Coming towards them.

And Rukia no longer felt confident.

Ahead of her, between their current position and the approaching mystery, a veteran of her regiment was standing flanked by two others. She wanted to warn them to withdraw, it wasn't safe now. But just as she opened her mouth to do so…

The water around them boiled, and all three started screaming.

Gray flashes darted up around their forms, and they fell back into the shallow water. The surface of the lakelet bubbled and frothed, first white, and then crimson. The sound of drowned shrieks was horribly audible to all present.

While preoccupied by this massacre, the petite brunette almost missed a coursing ripple that signified movement towards her.

There was a splash, something burst from the water, and instinctively Rukia swung.

She got a brief impression of jaws opened wide, and then her zanpakutō did its work, cutting the thing in half.

As it fell, another one burst out. The slight survivor thrust, and this one was skewered on the tip of her blade.

It was gray and wrinkled, about the size of the large koi that swam through the ponds on her family's estate. There was virtually nothing to it but a fang-filled maw, snapping futilely as it died. Two tails came out from the back, and they wriggled in ghastly convulsions, before the whole thing just stopped moving. With a cry of disgust, Rukia flung her weapon to one side, dislodging the gruesome remains.

More screaming, from all around. Another splash, a second, a third, and three jagged sets of teeth came at her from different sides. She sliced the first, and the next, but missed the last.

Yumichika didn't. His saber cut it down, bisecting the horror before spinning to eradicate several more that came for him. The two of them stood back to back now, and the mutant piranha kept coming. On the periphery of her senses, the struggling damsel caught sight of comrades engaged in their own furious bids for survival against the swarm of feasting vermin. These monsters seemed to be everywhere. There was the sound of another soul being born down and ripped to pieces. The woman up in the tree who first spotted them was shouting for everyone to climb up with her, when suddenly several of the killer tadpoles burst up at the base of her perch. Their tails were buzzing at an incredible rate, and they seemed to serve for wings, for the jaws of death streaked up into the foliage and sank into her flesh, causing her to fall back with a squeal.

Rukia didn't see her die, but she heard it. All right. They can fly too. And they seem to sense our presence if we're in the water or not. No good climbing trees. They can die, though. They have to come in close. And we can see them coming. Say, there's an idea. Why didn't anybody else think of that?

Another demon-goldfish met its end, and when she caught sight of further telltale disturbances racing towards her, Rukia extended her arm, middle and index finger pointing out. "Hado #4, Byakurai!" From her fingertips came a spear of pale lightning that shot straight for the target. There came a burst of water, and gobs of flesh scattered about. Swiftly she targeted the rest. "Sai, sai, sai!" For every cry to 'repeat', another bolt struck home with keen precision, decimating the approaching gray maws.

"Nicely done."

That was Ayasegawa complimenting her, and Rukia blinked, feeling slightly dazed. She glanced over at him meaningfully. "Join me! It's elementary kidō, it isn't hard! Sai sai!"

Two more abominations burst, but her partner only swept out his blade to dispose of yet another. It appeared none of them had even come close to his flesh.

"Yumichika-san!"

Without looking at her he smiled, and crouched down low, zanpakutō held before him.

"We walk different paths, my lovely."

And his saber glowed.

"Bloom, _Fuji Kujaku!"_

In an instant the edge split, sprouting into four long curved nails. Rukia flinched from the rise in soul power. Her hesitation could have cost her far more, as a swarm of the vile beasts came at them now, only to be mown down when her cheerful guardian darted in their path and whipped his sickle about like the god of death he was. Scattered parts littered their surroundings. It was becoming slightly dangerous just to walk amongst all these needle-sharp teeth lying strewn about, she reflected.

The enchantress watched the way of their destruction with satisfaction. As she did, the thought came to her: I don't seem to be afraid right now, although I really should be. This is like a nightmare, after all. I wonder why that is?

_Like ice, girl. This is how you are. Don't let anything break you, got that?_

That thought comforted Rukia. When further swimming shapes became visible, she proceeded to burn those too, without any hope except to see them dead.

* * *

"Sir, it's not gonna work," Renji whispered. "I tried to call a hell butterfly earlier, and nothing came. Whatever's blocking us from sensing the Hollows, I think it's messing with our communications system as well."

Jūshirō sighed. Shaking his head, he let the spell drop after several unsuccessful minutes of trying. "I had hoped it was just me. One more excuse to find fault with myself, perhaps. But something of this caliber is much more disturbing."

"Taichou, listen, about that… thing. Natella, or whatever… I wanted to ask you something."

As Renji bent by the captain's side, sharp pain blossomed in his shoulder, and he howled. Reaching up the mad dog of Rukongai seized whatever had hold of him and squeezed, feeling it burst between his fingers.

When his hand came back, there was nothing distinguishable in it. But before he could examine the attacking mass further, something sprang from the water towards his throat. Renji punched it, yelling frantically, and this too exploded.

Then he saw the swarm of darting horrors speeding towards them, like an underwater beehive.

With a cry Ukitake's defender leapt up, and Zabimaru roared in accordance. The metal serpent coursed out in an arc, decimating the first line of their assailants before they could come within a hundred yards of that spot. It licked out again, and again. But the shikai was not omnipresent. The crest of this wave of death stretched beyond the horizon, and they moved in to encircle the embattled duo. Renji spun, twirling his broadaxe whip faster than he had ever known he was capable of moving. It was a strange blend of exhilaration and desperation that fired his muscles to perform well past their perceived limits. The duelist stepped like a dancer, stretching Zabimaru to its limit and swinging it around his head to form a wall of razor-sharp steel that churned the air and water all around them.

The sightless barracuda sped forth, swimming and leaping to catch their prey, only to splatter like flies under a rolled-up mid-term paper. There were hundreds of them, though. Maybe thousands. And death held no fear for them. In addition, Renji's defense was not perfect. As the minutes dragged on, a few made it past the whirling net, seeking the taste of blood. When they sprang, he lashed out with his free hand and feet, stomping and crushing them.

But even so there were just too many. Even when he struck them a couple managed to bite him, hampering his movements. And several actually made it through, springing forth to latch onto his body, provoking fearsome screams as Renji felt himself being eaten alive little by little. So far none had been permitted to reach Ukitake, but at this rate it was only a matter of time until…

The recovering division head coughed weakly. "Kidō…use…kidō!"

When his guard heard, he laughed, a crazy-edged sound.

"I CAN'T!" Renji screamed, chortling. "I FAILED THAT CLASS! COULD NEVER MAKE IT WORK RIGHT!"

Fear and pain were hammering away at him. So much to do, wasn't there, Renji? Protect the captain, protect yourself, pry those disgusting things off you. Where was anyone supposed to find the time to study demon-arts spells? All those incantations, one so much like the other, blurring in your head, it just never came naturally to him, and he honestly felt like a fool every time he said anything like…

"BAKUDŌ 73! _FALLING MOUNTAIN CRYSTAL!"_

At the kidō master's command, another pyramid came into being around them, this one an inverted blue half-diamond. The supernatural structure went down into the ground, while its visible diameter around their central point was a good fifty meters. Abarai finished off the remaining stragglers, and when no further attacks were made evident he drew to a halt, panting and bleeding from a dozen horrendous wounds. Zabimaru retracted back into his hand. At his side, the ailing icon rose to stand once again, retrieving his own blades. The two of them watched the ever-increasing crowd of feeders struggling against the edge of their protection. To no avail, it seemed.

Renji nodded to Jūshirō. "73, huh? Never made it that high."

In response, the sorcerer laid a hand on his shoulder. "No worries, young man. We all have our weaknesses. For instance, I could never bear to get a tattoo."

"Eh?" The novice spell-caster raised an eyebrow. Then, realizing what he was doing, it dawned on him. "Oh. Right." He reached up a hand to touch his brow, and turned to regard the fanged storm on the other side of the barrier. "So… what the hell are we supposed to do now, sir?" Renji winced from the steadily building pain throughout his form.

"Here," his ally spoke. "Let me first see to healing those wounds, then we will figure out a way to…"

Ukitake never finished. Instead he just shoved Renji violently away.

The sword specialist stared in shock.

The kidō magician returned the look, as something rose up from below and cut him open.

So sudden and vicious was the attack that for a while as he fell all Abarai Renji could see was blood spurting from the white haori. But after a moment he realized there was something obstructing his view of the captain.

At first it looked like a shaft of bamboo had sprouted up from the spot where he had been standing. Only it was much thicker, greater than the width of a man. And there were other bamboo shafts protruding out of it, hundreds of spikes all up and down the length of its reach. That was the most he could discern about this thing for what seemed like the longest time.

But then he saw it curve as the top wound down straight towards Captain Ukitake once more. Renji didn't question. He swung Zabimaru, the tip of his blade connecting with the other lash's head, knocking it off balance. Its intended target fell back with a splash, and the obscenity turned to stare at its attacker.

Not a tree, he saw then. This was no plant, but an animal rising out of the water. A long, winding, yellow and black striped wyrm, the legless breed of dragons. From all along its scaled hide there intermittently sprang white bone knives about the length of a spearhead. The head was rust-colored, and its jaws were encased in skeletal armor filled with a collection of long snake fangs. From either side of this hellish beast's snout there protruded a gleaming golden scimitar with a hooked curve along the blade. Red slit eyes burned from deep within the recesses of its skull, watching his every movement. Hollow, Renji realized. But something about it let him know that this was not one of the slavering brutes that resided in this bog. Here there arose something much more wicked. And life-threatening.

A long black tongue flicked out, and then the wyrm retracted below the surface of the pool in a flash.

The dumbfounded shinigami gaped. The water only came up to his ankles! There was no way that monster could have submerged itself. But it was gone! He could see there wasn't a hole in the ground where it had emerged. Just a slight ripple in the pond's surface. Like it had just sprang up from the reflective area and then sank right back in. And now that he considered it, there was the fact that it had penetrated a captain's defensive spell. How could it have done that?

At that instant Ukitake Jūshirō clambered back to his feet, Sōgyo no Kotowari held loosely in his hands. There was a deep tear weeping blood all up the left side of his body. In spite of this, the war hero's face was calm and composed once more. The pyramidal barrier still held, attesting to the caster's undiminished power and control. However, down his chin there now ran two thin crimson lines. He opened his mouth to speak and blood flowed out, making him choke slightly. When Renji moved to aid him Jūshirō held up a forestalling hand.

"Get out of the water," he rasped hoarsely. "It's not safe."

The lower-ranked fighter obeyed without hesitation. Normally he had difficulty in trusting the battle experience of anyone who professed to outrank him. There had been few exceptions to that rule in Renji's life, most of them taking the form of a captain or lieutenant. But in this case, even if that wasn't a commander's robe draped over the other man's shoulders, he would not have thought about arguing. After everything he had just seen, there was no doubt he was standing in the presence of a supremely gifted warrior.

Two or three trees fell under the zone of the protective charm, and it was to one of these that Renji sprang. Alighting on a branch of the water-bound giant, he carefully perused their environment. Ukitake stood alone now, and his partner felt a pang of guilt at how he had abandoned the wounded man so swiftly. Hadn't been thinking, he should go back there and help the captain up into the boughs so that he would be safe.

Jūshirō's determined protector tensed and sprang earthward.

Abarai obeyed the decision he had reached a mere split-second before something exploded from below. This action alone kept him from dying.

The dragon-wyrm sprang from the tree's waterlogged base and wrapped itself around the trunk, its spikes slicing long lines into the wood and dismembering every branch. Then the Hollow squeezed, body surging with strength unmatched by any python, and the spiritual organism it bound virtually erupted from the pressure, crushed like rotten fruit in a fist.

When it ascertained that nothing else had perished in the attack, the fantastic reptile swiftly wound back into the hand's-length of water to disappear from their senses once more. The uprooted tree crashed into the stagnant puddle with a resounding boom.

I almost died, Renji thought.

He looked around the expanse of their magic field shielding them from the horde outside.

We're trapped in here with this thing.

Glancing over to where his fellow prisoner lay, the sheer implausible irony of it almost made him laugh once again.

* * *

"There's more of them now!" Rukia cried.

"So I noticed," her ally responded.

She cast a quick glance his way. Ayasegawa looked particularly unapproachable right now. His hair was mussed, and there were rips in his clothing. Also, he was starting to sweat slightly. The expression on his face might have led one to believe he had been seriously injured by this rush of fanged flying fish. That wasn't the case, but still… not happy.

Only a little over a dozen shinigami now fought within this visible space. The rest had been pulled down and consumed by the unsightly infestation. There was no end to them, and it was impossible to try and make an escape because they never stopped coming at you. Days of rigorous and sometimes almost abusive training had given Rukia the ability to keep swinging her sword even after all that they had gone through in the last hour, but this could not be counted upon forever. The strain was starting to tell. Shouting kidō time after time was making her voice somewhat hoarse also. Unless something was done soon, it wouldn't be long before she made that fatal slip all the others had succumbed to before their ends, to be dragged down under a tide of tearing teeth.

Dammit all! The representative of the Kuchiki swore to herself as she blasted another pair. Why was there no backup coming for them? Where was the rest of their division? Why hadn't Kaien-dono come to their aid by now?

Nobody's coming to save you. You want to survive this battle? It's going to be the result of what you decide to accomplish, not anyone else.

As the words floated through her mind, half a dozen gaping jaws swept in on her from all sides.

Rukia was so tired of repeating herself, she decided to try something new.

The diminutive gladiator crouched and sprang. Grabbing a vine that hung from a branch by the crook of her sword arm, she lashed out with her empty hand and screamed, "Hadō 33, _Blue Fire Crash DOWN!"_

The sextet of attackers burned to ash in an explosion of demon magic. Rukia readied for the next set to fly at her, preparing to drop down and give them a taste of what their departed brethren had experienced.

However, her plan proved to have a fatal error.

They didn't attack.

Rukia stared.

Below her, a small crowd of the feasters was gathering. They milled about as if confused, snapping aimlessly at nothing. After a while, when nothing further happened, they seemed to lose interest. And almost as one, the gathering turned and swept towards Yumichika.

Seeing this, Rukia was about to leap down to his defense, when inspiration struck. Before anything could go terribly wrong, the dangling damsel called out, "Ayasegawa-san, listen to me! You have to…!"

"Yes, thank you, Rukia-chan."

It was like he was performing a dance in one spot, whipping about and striking with quadruple-bladed scythe and occasionally with fist and feet. The effeminate executioner didn't look at her, but his voice had once more taken on that friendly, jovial tone. "And I agree with your assessment. Apparently these things aren't tracking us by our spiritual power. I suspected as much when they didn't all start coming after me upon performing my shikai. It was a bit insulting at first, but I see now that they only respond to anything that sends vibrations through water or earth. Apparently being one step removed like standing in a tree doesn't cut it, but two steps removed, such as swinging from a vine on that tree, does. That's very useful information, you should feel proud of yourself for uncovering it!"

A blast of kidō from her finger evaporated a few more menaces coming towards him. "Why are you standing there talking about it?" she shrieked. "Grab a stupid vine and get up here, you pretty idiot!"

Fuji Kujaku swung, and the target of her scorn gave a wry grin.

"YUMICHIKA-SAN!"

"My dearest Kuchiki princess," the perfumed human saw-blade spoke from between smiling teeth. "If you honestly think that any of these vines can support my slender-yet-muscular build, then you are a very poor judge of stress tests. Only someone of your sublimely petite carriage could rely on anything so spindly to hold you up. I would be flat on my rump within seconds of trying."

Destruction magic glowed around her outstretched fist, and Rukia wore a look of naked horror. "But then… what are you going to do?"

Yumichia never stopped dancing. "Isn't the real question what you are going to do?"

"What?"

Colored feathers flew, black robes flapped, and slavering horrors died. "In my expert opinion, right now you are in a better position than anyone to actually take the offensive and uncover just who is sending these frightfully ugly things our way. Don't you think that sounds like a good idea?"

He was fighting for his life. They all were. Everyone but her.

"No, I… I can't just abandon you."

"You can," he responded lightly. "And unless you want me to haul you out of that tree and spank you in front of all these stomach-for-brain guppies, you will get going right now!"

"No, I can't!" Rukia wailed desperately. "You don't know me, I'm a failure of a shinigami! I couldn't even graduate, the Kuchiki bought me, I don't have a seat in my own division, I'm not strong like you, I can't…!"

"STOP WHINING!"

Yumichika's shout almost sounded like Kaien-dono during sword drills, and that obedient admiration she harbored inside cut off her protests like a zanpakutō through Hollow mask.

"If you were the type of person to just give up and fall to pieces, you would have been dead over half an hour ago! And last I checked, you didn't need to be a captain in order to accomplish anything worthwhile. I will not die this day and neither will you! Get out there and try your damndest to kill whomever's behind this, and then you can tell me what you can and cannot do!"

She just stared at him blankly.

The purple-eyed heartthrob looked right at her then, and winked.

"Go on, Rukia Kuchiki," he spoke gently. "Show us all you're as smart as Abarai-kun says you are."

Rukia's mouth fell open.

Renji!

It was suddenly crystal clear how Yumichika had heard of her.

Realizing this, the girl then assumed a determined look, swung about and leapt to an adjoining mass of lichens, flying from one vine and tendril to another like a small black butterfly.

"Oh, Rukia-chan!"

His merry voice called out to her, but she couldn't look back. There wasn't a chance or the time.

"I'm glad you think I'm pretty!"

Her admirer watched her go, then turned his full attention back to the threat he faced. "Well, now," the Fifth seat of Squad Eleven mused, "The only real witness is gone."

_And not a moment too soon, in my opinion._

Yumichika Ayasegawa grinned. "What do you say we see about rescuing the rest of these clumsy oafs, eh?"

He swung his blade up, and shouted, "Split and Deviate, _Ruri'iro Kujaku!"_

A swell of repressed spirit power burst forth, incinerating the lunging demons around him. Swelling peacock feathers of viridian energy blossomed from his weapon's hilt, and under their master's command, swept out and wrapped around the dozen or so shinigami still fighting in that vicinity. The kidō-weapon arms lifted those half-dead men and women off their feet. They hung suspended well away from the ground, their energy pouring out of them so fast it caused every one of them to pass out. Below, the feasters dashed about in agitation, deprived of their meals' locations and lacking the intelligence to wonder why. Then every single one of them whisked over to join the ones ganging up on the only remaining presence in this area.

The battle-loving maniac laughed. In his hand the hilt of the weapon vanished, and the sprouting tendrils moved to anchor at his back. Looking like an octopus now, Yumichika's body began to glow. Deadly energy formed at his hands and feet as he dropped into a martial artist's stance. The enemy encircled him, and when the initial ring swarmed towards his flesh, the master combatant lashed out with his arms and legs, faster than any eye less than a lieutenant's could follow. Wherever his lethal limbs fell, feasters turned to dust.

Swordplay was enjoyable, he mused, but his real talents lay in unarmed combat. Ikkaku's bald head had rocked about in enough matches to confirm that. Though in order to enjoy as many fights as possible, Yumichika took a cue from his captain, and chose to hide his true strength unless the situation was deemed worthwhile.

And if anyone in the Eleventh ever upbraided him over seeking to defend people weaker than himself, the handsome soul just flipped his hair and gave them a winning smile, before punching their lights out.

* * *

Every single second, Abarai expected the thing to come erupting out at his feet, to finish him off the way it had that tree. But for almost half a minute, no such thing had happened. They were all standing about, waiting for someone to make the next move. Who would it be, he wondered, heartbeat sounding like a drum in his ears?

The answer came when Jūshirō stood erect and raised his twin guardian spirits, dripping blood and determination.

He spoke.

"BAN-…!"

Renji blinked in amazement.

"K-AAhhH…!"

Ukitake never completed his release command, for the saber-wyrm sprang out right at his back and sliced the tendons behind his knees with its golden face-blades.

The force of its charge was so great that it actually knocked Ukitake off his feet, sending him flying before submersing itself once more. Sōgyo no Kotowari landed several yards away.

With a shout of rage Renji forged towards his comrade. Reaching the downed lord's side, he was surprised when the bleeding figure righted himself.

"Captain!" he yelled, grabbing the man's arm. "Get up, we have to…!"

"…four children of grace, sixteen spots of sin…"

The captain clasped Renji's hand in a surprisingly strong grip, whispering.

"Rail against this Field, one of Absolute Terror. See only the image of your Remorse, oh Shadow of Fear…"

And the wyrm sprang up to encircle them in its embrace.

"Know no suffering, Noble Spirit! Bakudō 97: _Soul Tower!"_

The loathsome flesh tightened around its victims.

Only to stop a hand's-breadth short.

Spiked muscles strained, and Renji stared out at them through a slightly cloudy field. Far above, the drake opened its jaws and spewed a destructive red death ray against the shield wall that rose high up into the air around them, followed by another. But the construct held. When the implication struck, that they were not about to be crushed to death, the young death god returned his attention to his multiple savior. Ukitake slumped against his shoulder, coughing up more blood.

"Don't worry," the magic-weaver gasped. "She can't get in."

She? Renji wanted to ask, but instead he turned his attention to the other man's injuries. "Here, let me take a look at the legs," he muttered, reaching down to feel for further damage. "I can at least bind the wounds, and if the bones are broken I might be able to…"

His fingers brushed against something odd beneath the black cloth, and Abarai blinked in surprise.

"Armored leg braces," his current commander offered to the unspoken question, clutching his robe for support. "To help keep me upright in battle. In this instance it was the only thing that prevented my legs from being cut off at the knees." He then struck the water angrily. "Curse it all! She was waiting for me to do that! Knew if I felt threatened enough I would perform ban-kai, and when I did I'd have to drop my guard for a second. I'm a useless fool!"

"No." Hunkered down beside him, Ukitake's makeshift physician glanced at the monster still straining to smash them only centimeters away. "If not for you, we'd be dead. But I hate to tell you this, sir…" And he looked through a space in the ochre coils, out to a spot several meters distant. From here, through the murky water, he could just barely discern the outline of a pair of forbidding blades. "Unless you've got some kidō that you're certain can kill this thing, then we are pretty much two turds just waiting to be crapped out."

* * *

Natella raised her serpentine neck, watching everything reflected in the surface of the pool before her. In its depths, the shinigami captain and what was most likely his lieutenant had both fallen. The old invalid's blood dripped down her snout from where she had just struck him. It smelled so absolutely delicious. She could scent it already on his breath right before she had opened the _garganta_. It was a sign that he was starting to fail, as her information had assured he would eventually.

The _adjuchas_' own ichor had fallen in that tiny lake, as had his. But Natella's was all that mattered. In whatever stretch of liquid the blood of Contracorriente polluted, no matter how small or whether it be saké or more blood, she was able not only to see anything transpiring above it, but also travel through it as effortlessly as if it were another _garganta_.

A tiny white ball rolled into the scrying mirror, disrupting the image slightly.

This proved no deterrent to Natella's vision. Even as she watched, the fleshy pill quickly turned gray upon contact with even a diluted drop of her blood. In seconds it had unfolded to reveal savage jaws and a pair of dual-purpose fins. Swiftly growing, her offspring then took off out of the rim of this crevasse, to course through the swamp in search of warm nourishing spirits on which to feast.

It was not alone in its quest. This process was repeating itself dozens of times a second. The evolved Hollow's main body rested behind her draconian extension, a huge mass of pale pulsing flesh and scrabbling claws squeezed into the bulk of an enormous hollow tree. From it there exuded an endless trail of tiny white pearls that rolled down her hunched shoulders to land in the divining pool, where they flourished before being sent out to do her bidding.

Like some of her cohorts, Natella's strength was diminished during the day. She had never really hoped that the shinigami captain would be foolish enough to wait until nightfall to enter the swamp. Many of her ilk were known to thrive in the shadows. But last time she had been able to fight under cover of darkness, and had not even been required to perform her _resurección_ to finish the job. Now, however, her minions were restricted in their mobility. They could move only through water and air, not earth, and were not sensitive to reiatsu as they would be during midnight hours. For this task, she was forced to perform under less-than-perfect circumstances. Nonetheless, when she proved successful in spite of the handicap, in addition to the huge power boost, surely a promotion would be in order. And none too soon. There was a rumor that Neliel was on the trail of something big. If successful, it would definitely mean advancement through the ranks. It didn't pay to let others surpass you undeservedly.

Her wyrm body slithered from a hole in the front of her torso, waving over the magic mirror in hungry anticipation.

Ah, there he went. As she had predicted, the lieutenant rushed to his master's side. Now she could finish them both in one fell swoop. Fortunate that the full powers of a shinigami were predicated upon the ability to both draw a sword and speak. This meant it was possible to catch them unawares before they entered ban-kai. Lucky for her. The man must assuredly be a nightmare when fully charged. Most of his kind were chatty to a fault, though, almost pathologically so. It had not surprised Natella to learn even a captain could fall victim to such preposterous strictures.

With all her attention focused on her victims, Contracorriente smirked triumphantly as she judged the perfect time to strike, and then did so.

Such power she would soon taste. Such glory. It was time for the Wyrm to feast.

* * *

From her position, Rukia gazed down on the most stomach-churning sight she had ever seen.

Upon first gaining the advantage of higher ground, so to speak, one thing had become apparent to her. Even though the flesh-eaters could not be detected through her spirit sense, judging by their courses through the swamp, they were all coming from the same general direction. Backed by a purpose that surpassed saving her own life, the highly-trained death god swung like a monkey from one support to another. At times it felt like even her slight weight would be enough to snap or dislodge the vines and creepers she reached for, sending her plummeting down to be consumed by the virtual sea of vermin rushing below. This never proved to be the case, however, and for not the first time in her life Rukia reflected on how it was good to be small.

Several times throughout this voyage, as she continued to track the rampage to its source her violet eyes picked out people she knew fighting for their lives. With Yumichika's words still fresh in her mind, she refused to deviate from her mission, no matter how much it pained her. In addition to this, there was also the surprisingly more chilling image of Hollows striving against the very same menace. Apparently whatever these things truly were, they didn't take friend or foe into account. The sight of several churning gray bloody masses left her feeling sick to her stomach at the thought of what lay beneath. No purification for those wretches. No future at all.

Just when it seemed like this whole venture was a pathetic waste of time, Rukia broke out of some thick foliage to hang over a vision from Hell itself.

In the hollow beneath her, a monster spewed the very stuff of nightmares into the drowned forest.

Hidden this high up from its vision, her first instinct was to attack immediately, before it could sense her reiatsu. It was like a giant spongy turtle, sending its worm-like neck streaking down into the pool before it. At first Rukia thought this must be some form of animal hunting for aquatic prey. But when she peered closer at the surface of the tiny lake, her heart skipped a beat.

RENJI! That was her best friend reflected in the water! And Captain Ukitake of all people. How they had teamed up she had no clue, there couldn't be two more different men in the whole world! Before she could think to question this situation, the monster's head came up again. It watched the two men for a while. When Renji made a dash for the nearest tree in this vision, she heard the grotesquerie snicker, and it plunged down again. In the mystic mirror now Rukia watched in horror as her old cohort missed being crushed to death by seconds.

The worm was back, watching, and she drew her zanpakutō, preparing to leap down and slice that ghastly head open.

_Stop! Think about this, would you? Don't just charge in without considering, do you want to die?_

Worm Hollow dove again, and this time her gracious leader was mowed down, screaming in pain.

Now! I'll attack now, while it's defenseless. Okay, here we go!

_Damn you, girl, stop RIGHT NOW! Did that perverted nancy-boy send you out here because he wanted you to be eaten? NO, HE DID NOT!_

The thought frustrated her headlong plunge, and not a moment too soon. This time the snake came back much quicker than before. Had she dove off then, it would have seen her without a doubt and proceeded to snap her up. Rukia shivered at how close she had been to a miserable death.

Far below, brave foolish Renji did what he always did, charging forth and shouting recklessly. I almost did the exact same thing, she thought.

And the nail-studded worm shivered with some unholy emotion, before fishing into its stocked pond one more time. She watched the mighty dragon that had brought low a captain encase two people she cared for in a prison of inevitable death.

_Listen. It's not about power all the time. Feather-head told it best, he said it's like a dance for you. You've just always been moving in a solo act. If you would only listen to your partner you might be able to…_

Quiet! There isn't time to think here, I have to act now! Even if it does kill me, it might give the others some time to figure out a way to escape.

_OH, THAT IS IT, YOU LITTLE KNOW-IT-ALL!_

And Rukia was abruptly pulled into winter night.

This is a dream, she thought. It has to be. I can't be here now, if I am, then they're going to die.

When she didn't go right back, the girl sighed, and looked about her.

Snow fell all around. Not the heavy wet kind, or even little specks, but light gentle crystals that flickered with refracting colors from the bright stars overhead. Stars that seemed much closer to her now than in real life, almost like the sky was a rounded ceiling, and this was a private dance hall she stood in, an expanse of pristine beautiful snow covering the floor. She almost hated to step on it, but there was no choice. Just like before, her foot went through the crust with an unpleasantly loud crunch, like she weighed more than she really thought. Undeterred, the raven-haired waif trudged on.

In the middle of that silent black and white panorama, someone was dancing.

The figure was paler than even the falling snow. At least, their clothes were, and that was all that was ever visible. An attire like nothing Rukia had ever known, whether in or out of the Seireitei, covered every inch of the performer with a collection of windblown silk scarves wrapping all the way up and down the body, with long billowing sleeves that completely swallowed up the hands. These silk ribbons crafted a sort of form-hugging full length skirt that still stretched effortlessly whenever her legs moved in one of those complex dancing moves she was always performing. The feet never broke the snow. Her counterpart's head was hidden completely within an ephemeral hood whose edges never failed to move just in time to prevent the face from being seen, but in spite of that, the shinigami knew this spirit was female.

Without any perceived interruption to the performance, the soul of this lovely place and her patron began to converse.

_Why the hell are you always questioning me? What is it about you that makes you think you have to be right all the time?_

"What makes you think I'm not right? You just assume I disagree with everyone because I don't think about things well enough. You answer me, now: what the hell is so good about not speaking your own damn mind? So that you don't offend anyone by not agreeing with them?"

_I'm not telling you not to express yourself! Hell, you don't need me for that, I could count on one hand the number of people in your life who don't expect you to stay quiet and not speak a word. But dammit, I'm not doing it for the same reason they are! When I ask you to shut up and listen to me, it's because I've got something to say that I really want YOU to know!_

"All you ever do is shout at me and frustrate me!"

_GOOD! You actually admitted I get on your nerves sometimes. Well, guess what, sweetie, I feel the same way! You called out to me, and worked so hard just to find me, but when you finally get here you're so damn uptight you can't even pay any attention to me._

"What else am I supposed to learn from you? I found your name already and unlocked your true form."

_You've never spoken my name once since I told it to you!_

"I've never needed to! I've never been in any danger!"

_And now doesn't qualify? Why haven't you called for me to help you against that malformed ghost of a dragon?_

"If I do, it'll sense I'm near it and attack! Being weak right now is the only thing that's saving me."

_There you go again, putting yourself down. You just don't want to admit how strong we really are together, because then you might actually expect something more from yourself besides living! What good is a saved life if you don't do anything with it?_

"I never asked you to save me! I just want people to leave me alone, is that too much to ask?"

_IT IS IF THE PEOPLE CARE ABOUT YOU, DAMN IT! WHO DO YOU CARE ABOUT OTHER THAN YOURSELF?_

"Stop harping on me all the time!"

_FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, GIRL, I AM NOT HARPING ON YOU! I'M ASKING YOU AN HONEST QUESTION! WHO IS IT THAT YOU CARE ABOUT? TELL ME!_

"RENJI, OKAY? And Kaien, and Captain Ukitake, and even that nutcase Yumichika! I care about all of them!"

_Do you trust them?_

"Yes! More than anyone else I've ever met."

_Are you going to give up on them?_

"Not on your life!"

_Then DON'T! Don't assume they're all going to die if you don't sacrifice yourself. Because in case you haven't noticed, they're pretty incredible people too. It doesn't always have to be one side setting up the other for a win. Sometimes everybody does something that helps you out, even your enemy. If you want to save your friends, do your part in a way that makes sense. Because killing yourself to distract that beast for a second isn't very likely to accomplish much, is it?_

"No… I suppose it isn't. But even together, I still don't believe we can really kill it. What… what am I supposed to do, then?"

And the spirit stopped moving.

Rukia stared, amazed. She has never done that before, the girl thought.

Her soulmate held out both covered hands.

_Dance with me, and I'll show you._

It almost sounded like a plea. Rukia had never really danced before. She didn't know how to do it right and…

Oh, for mercy's sake, she thought angrily. What am I looking for here, some Kuchiki dance instructor? There's nobody grading or overseeing me in this place. That much I know. So then all I have to do is…

The shinigami reached out and took one of her partner's hands.

_Good. Now, let me show you what we can do together._

Both of them began to move. No longer did the shinigami's feet mar the field of snow in any way. She could well have been a single snowflake for all her presence registered on that white canvas. The moon then came out to shine upon their performance.

So Rukia learned the name of the dance.

* * *

If he continued just standing there, Ukitake was going to die. That much was certain. Once the captain passed out, which could happen at any second, the spell would break. After that, they'd be torn to shreds and eaten.

If they could just break free of this trap, then maybe there was some way to win.

Facing death, the final door slammed shut in his face after a lifetime of thwarted hopes, Renji saw no relief in giving up. The situation looked hopeless, and his options either way were limited. But dammit all to hell, he wasn't about to quit now! That freaky hammer-swinging bitch was probably out there somewhere now laughing at him. She must have sent these monsters here to soften us up so that she could finish us off without breaking a sweat. And you swore not to let her escape. Well, don't! Don't let her get away with this shit, that's for sure!

Abarai Renji of Eleventh company stared at the handle of his soul cutter, thinking furiously.

_Tell me what to do, brother. This thing won't kill you before it kills me._

He grinned at his reflection in the blade.

"How 'bout we offer to let it kill us if it promises to kill itself first?"

Ukitake just gave him a pained and confused look, but he knew Rukia would have laughed at that one.

"Renji, you dumbass, THINK!"

That's what she always told him, back when they spent their days getting bullies to trip over their own feet or breaking their own wares with a club, using the enemy's superior strength and weight against them to…

"Get it to kill itself," he whispered.

A plan dawned on him.

The cannon fodder of the 13 Imperial Guard Squads gazed at his face in the mirrored steel, then back up. Around them, the serpent king was still straining to crush their fortification, apparently realizing that they couldn't fight back from within so there wasn't a need to go duck and cover again. Whether or not it actually had the strength to do so or was just anticipating Ukitake to pass out soon was anyone's guess. But while it still persisted in this effort, they might just have a chance.

Renji bent down low. "Sir," he whispered, "how fast do you think you can tear down this shield?"

Jūshirō looked at him out of eyes weak and dimming with strain. Blood bubbled on his lips as he spoke. "I only have to touch it. Why?"

The street rat looked up to the heights of their prison, calculating.

"Get ready to do it when I tell you to, okay?"

The white head fell, either in confirmation or getting ready to lose consciousness.

Either way it was time.

Renji then draped his free arm behind Ukitake's back, getting as secure a grip as possible around the man's chest.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

_Ready to die._

"Ready to live," Renji shot back. He looked up to where the worm's head continued to pour out its power against the shield. "Chew on this, you ugly sunnavabitch!"

He then inverted his zanpakutō, slamming the tip of the sword into the soft mud below their feet.

"GROW, ZABIMARU!"

The spring-sword shot out. Its head buried itself into the mud until it hit firmer ground, and stayed there. The rest of it went up, Abarai hanging on to both its hilt and the wounded captain. They flew straight as an arrow skywards, wind tearing at their faces. Hope and fear danced in Renji's eyes, as he chose the right time to scream.

"NOW!"

Ukitake reached out and shattered his sealing spell.

When he did, there came an awful scream.

* * *

Natella Contracorriente constricted with all her might, firing beam after beam from her mouth into the stubbornly unyielding magic wall. She had grown tired of playing it safe. Keep it up, she exhorted herself, keep the pressure on him. Kidō spells die when the caster wills out. My will is stronger than yours, shinigami! You can't keep two such powerful castings up for long in your condition.

She watched them cower in there. You'll break, old man, the Hollow exulted. First your will, then the shield, and then you! Did you think you would never die, that you could do whatever you pleased? Let me show you the ones who have real power! Squeeze you! Natella exulted in her head. SQUEEZE YOU DOWN TO YOUR BONES!

"GROW, ZABIMARU!"

Unrelenting, the _adjuchas_ looked down.

And then she looked up, as both of her victims suddenly rose to her eye level. The red-haired devil looked right at her, right into her, and smiled!

Then they flew past.

You cocky little shit, I'll CRUSH YOU!

"NOW!"

Just as Contracorriente's raging heart fueled her into grinding on the spell with all her prodigious strength, it simply broke.

But the only thing left within her coils was a 100-ft long steel butcher-blade.

And it was this she wrapped herself around, and squeezed.

The sword shattered, and Natella shrieked.

Pain pain pain, oh sweet blood, the PAIN!

Down its whole length, the Hollow was impaled around the broken remnants of Zabimaru. Fangs thrust into her, edged steel felt like it was chopping her in half in a hundred different places, shards and splinters breaking off and mutilating her insides. Black blood spurted in all directions, as the python's own strength worked against it, combining with the sudden lack of resistance to cause even its own spiked shafts to pierce her flesh in some places. The wyrm was in agony.

Regaining some semblance of control, Contracorriente attempted to dive back to her main body.

Something snapped around her entry point, and the man-eating beast twisted in shock.

The portal! It had closed somehow!

She couldn't return!

* * *

Rukia's eyes sprang open, flaring with power and exhilaration. She breathed deeply of the rank miasma that pervaded this morass.

Below her someone screamed a command.

"NOW!"

Without question, the spy obeyed, letting go of her perch.

As she fell, Rukia shouted out words that had never left her lips before.

"DANCE, SODE NO SHIRAYUKI!"

The zanpakutō exulted, its color flowing and changing 'til the entire blade from hilt to crown was purest white. A long ribbon extended to wind around its owner.

Both fighters landed in the pool with a splash. Gray feasters turned and sprang at them.

DO IT!

_Yes, ma'am!_

She swung her blade in an arc.

"First Dance, White Moon!"

Immediately everything around her feet was frozen. The whole pond became ice.

An instant later, a cylinder of frigid power blossomed skyward. All flashing jaws within its radius turned into icicles in an instant, shattering under the strain of their own internal phase transition from liquid to solid.

There came a howl, and the pool's surface cracked.

Rukia looked down. At her feet, the image of the desperate battle had disappeared. Now only cloudy ice met her gaze. Its surface shuddered, and she raised her head. Before her, the wyrm remained as it had been, neck deep in the pool, alive and apparently unaffected by the strength of her shikai's attack. But now it seemed to be imprisoned, straining desperately to retract itself back into this locale, to no avail. The enchantment had been broken by her own. As she watched, pallid marbles continued to roll off that grotesque form in a torrent. But when they reached the solid sheet of ice, the eggs simply clattered across its fractured foundation, totally harmless. No transformation took place. As Rukia had determined, they needed contact with water in order to undergo the metamorphosis. Another hypothesis proven correct. Just goes to show you how careful planning can win out against overwhelming power.

There was a buzzing at her back, Rukia spun, and something slammed her to the ground.

"Lil' cutie," someone whispered. "You're both dead."

* * *

Zabimaru was ripped to shreds, and Renji felt himself being torn open in more ways than one.

As they fell to earth, though, the sounds of a monster's screams told him that his plan had succeeded.

They hit the water with a splash, hard and painful. Immediately the tattooed champion scrambled up, dragging his compatriot. Together they flailed awkwardly towards the spot where the only remaining zanpakutō at hand lay.

Gotta make it, Renji panted to himself. Gotta reach it, thank you Zabimaru, I won't let it be in vain.

Behind him, there came a roar. Looking back, Renji spotted the dragon as it thrashed about, bleeding and quivering, before it righted itself and turned for them again. It was still coming out of that same spot, though. Why hadn't it gone under to appear before them as he had feared? Had hurting it like that done more good than he could have hoped? Maybe it couldn't travel with his blade stuck inside it. Pretty good, huh? He couldn't wait to tell everyone about his brilliant plan.

Ahead of him, the blue diamond of death god magic flickered and disappeared. A mob of flesh-eating vermin came boiling towards them.

Renji just laughed, though it had a hysterical edge to it. Dammit, I don't care what you've got! She's waiting somewhere out there, and I'm gonna find her. You hear me, you freaky bastards? WE ARE NOT GONNA DIE HERE! NOT TO YOU!

The swords, reach the swords, get them into Ukitake's hands so that he can kill it. Faster faster, pussycat, run! I ain't no cat, I'm a dog! Renji drove his aching, bleeding form on, half-deranged with pain and fear.

A Hollow's scream tore into him, he heard it coming for them. The monster's coming, all little kiddies out of the pool, Renji giggled! Run to reach the safe spot, run you bastard, what's wrong with you, you wanna die? RUN!

The wyrm lunged, and desperately he dove forward, feeling it pass over them to crash into the ground, bone-spikes and fragments of his own soul cutter lacerating his back and scalp as he followed it in a graceless pitch to the swamp floor. The striving soul skidded forward to rest, looking up with mud and blood running into his eyes while the dragon reared backwards to return his stare, a promise in its red screaming orbs of the most hideous death imaginable, far surpassing that of the hordes rushing forward to feast.

Those eyes weren't human.

They belonged to a monster. One Renji recognized.

Contracorriente.

And there in front of him lay Sogyō no Katawari.

At his side, Ukitake was unconscious. Gasping for breath, eyes flaring wide with realization and purpose, Renji reached forward and grasped one hilt below the water.

_Help him, old-timer._

_Little viper, I've got your back._

They found an accord, and Renji felt new strength surge into his soul, greater than he had ever known.

Natella's gaze burned into him, hate and bloodlust dancing behind her carnivorous visage.

"You want some of this?" he wheezed from flat in the muck. "Come and get it."

The Hollow snarled madly, and sprang for his throat.

Death approached, the death god surged up on one arm, a sword in his hand. He screamed, and thrust the blade out before him.

Too late she saw her mistake.

Natella's jaws encased Renji's arm completely, and the point of Sogyō no Katawari pierced her throat and exploded out of the back of her head.

Knife-sharp teeth cut spasmodically into the bleeding fighter's chest and shoulders, and he felt certain it was going to bite him in half. Renji Abarai and Natella Contracorriente stared into each other's eyes with equally shocked expressions.

Both understood then that he had missed her vital organs.

The Hollow's eyes blazed in triumph. Red Cero formed at the back of her throat. Renji could almost reach out and touch his own death. How weird is that, he thought distantly as she prepared to fire.

Someone grunted, and a second sword thrust through Natella's eyeball and sank into her brain.

Ukitake twisted his blade's twin viciously. The copper jaws opened on a gasping inhalation. Renji fell backwards, and the captain followed suit, moments before the whole quivering length of Contracorriente collapsed dead with a slithering thud, silver steel shafts protruding from her head.

All was quiet. When the _adjuchas_ died, it felt as though something lifted from that swamp. Sparing a glance over at the encircling sea of feasters, the captain was pleased to note that they were all thoroughly deceased. So much for that.

Wincing in pain, Jūshirō then crawled to where his stricken subordinate lay. Renji was shuddering and bleeding copiously, but clearly alive. The grateful war hero called up a hell butterfly, which materialized effortlessly now upon his bloody fingers.

"Fourth division. Emergency rescue operation. We have a man down."

It fluttered off, and Ukitake then called upon every healing spell he knew to strive towards saving this young man's life.

_To be continued…_


	5. The Bog: With Friends Like These

"Well, now, ain't this a pretty little picture?"

The Hollow had opalescent eyes in a mosquito-like skull, and they glittered in the amber light. It kept one hand flat against Rukia's chest, pressing against her until she thought her ribcage was going to crack. With the other it swiftly reached over and plucked Sode no Shirayuki from her grip without effort.

The beast's captive gasped in a breath, insufficient for speaking, let alone kidō spells. Then a noise came to her ears. Both she and her captor looked over, in time to see the bulk of the massive worm Hollow dissolving into a storm of butterflies. Instantly it was like a veil was ripped from her perceptions, and she felt strongly the soul presence of the winged death-dealer that held her prisoner.

That expressionless mask looked back to her. "Never trusted that monster," he hissed, examining his own reflection in the mirrored steel. "She said that we'd get a feast out of this as long as we found the captain for her. Sure looked that way for a while. You shinigami all like to act tough, but when the chips are down, you die like anybody else. Pretty nice, that hiding trick of hers. Then the freaky bitch gets even _stronger_ all of a sudden, can you believe it? After that there's a mess of killer crabs or something eating all my buddies. Lucky thing I had me these beauties right here." The Hollow buzzed the transparent insectoid wings on his back. "I held back, waiting to see who came out on top. Guess the worm didn't have it in her, if she could get taken out by a puny little treat like you. Can't blame Natella for not noticing it, really. Her own reiatsu was so strong, and fighting a captain, I wouldn't have paid much attention to yours either. Her mistake, I guess, thinking she was too tough to die." A cold chuckle came from the skull. "Still, I suppose it wouldn't be very respectful to the dead if I let her killer get off scot-free."

The tip of her own sword then came up to hover before Rukia's face. She struggled against its grip, but the thing just laughed.

"You know, I've been wondering a few things for a while. 'S how I am, a curious guy. Last shinigami I killed out there, I used their own zanpakutō on 'em. Just to see what happened. So now I'm wondering: if a shinigami gets eaten by a Hollow while they're being stabbed by a soul cutter, does she get purified? And if so, what's she become? Plus? Hollow, maybe? I'd kinda like to know, so waddaya say we find out, eh?"

He watched her gasp and fight for a few more moments, enjoying the show. Then the Hollow raised her purloined weapon high.

"Normally I'd take the time to get to know you, but I haven't got much to spare here, so it'll be over quick. Let's get cracking!"

His arm came down.

And then it came off.

Rukia scrambled away when the undead mistake reared back, screaming. Its severed limb hit the ground, and instinctively she lunged forward, grabbing up Sode no Shirayuki. Whirling about, the liberated soul was about to attack when the Hollow flew backwards up into the air, rising out of the pit in a bid for freedom.

A glowing rod shot across the sky, clipping the beast's wings. It fell with an ungodly squeal right in front of her. For a moment they both just stared at one another, too shocked to move. The lance then dropped down once more, cutting off both of her adversary's muscular legs at the root.

After that it just wouldn't stop screaming.

"Well, Rukia-chan?"

Her head jerked towards the sound of that voice, amazed.

"Don't I get a 'Thank you'?"

Walking casually towards her across the pond, as though he were out on a friendly stroll and just happened to drop by, came Gin Ichimaru.

He was smiling. There wasn't a bit of mud or sweat on his impeccably-maintained sleeveless haori. The zanpakutō Shinso extended back into his hand with a soft scraping sound, like it cut through even the air itself. Returning the weapon to its original size, Gin strolled over to the incapacitated amputee, flipped the dagger and drove it into his victim's wrist, impaling it against the bottom of the pool. He then rose, dusting his hands off dramatically, and looked down on his handiwork with a toothy grin.

"Y'know, I'm all for disciplining my inferiors. But when you're giving instructions like this, ya gotta take care not to lapse into plain-old bullying. If you're stronger than somebody, you give them one really good abject lesson on it. Once that sinks in, then you can kill 'em. You don't take forever to do it." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Right, Rukia-chan?"

She just stood there staring at him, wondering if this was some kind of evil dream. Was she dead? Had that Hollow killed her, and she was now in Hell? Was everybody dead, and this was her punishment for failing them all?

While Rukia's personal demon remained there patiently awaiting an answer, the Hollow whimpered, lifted its head, and the tip of its proboscis shot out.

Gin flinched, and grunted.

"Well, shoot me dead."

The silver ghost then leapt over and planted his foot on the limb-shorn horror's neck.

When he turned about, there was blood on the captain's haori.

She watched him reach down, and pull the spike out of his abdomen. The expression on his face in no way implied that he had just been stabbed in the gut. Nor did he behave as if the wound was bothering him. All Gin did was grin at her, before he reached down, and took a grip on the Hollow's mask.

"W…what are you…?" it gurgled.

His long fingers curved into its eyeholes, and gave a sharp jerk.

"AHH! NO! PLEASE!"

There was such horror in that inhuman voice, it made Rukia wince involuntarily. The monster thrashed its head from side to side a little, but Gin's foot kept it down, a bug on a pin. Then the smirking shinigami pulled back suddenly, and there was a straining, tearing sound. It reminded her of raw meat being ripped off the bone. The Hollow let out one long, enduring scream. While this went on, before Rukia's disbelieving eyes, the skull-like protection began to _pull_ off. The noise that came with it was like a thousand souls wailing faintly. It was a violation. That much was clear, even to her. Something absolutely unholy was being done here, and against all reason, she felt like crying out against it, begging Ichimaru to stop what he was trying to do to this thing that had been ready to murder her moments past.

Before she could, however, he gave a final wrench, and the whole thing came off in his hand.

Rukia stared, horrified. Revealed for all to see was a bleeding ruin of a face. Perhaps this might have been a man once, but those eyes were no longer capable of expressing anything other than pure terror. The very picture of humanity stared up at her from atop a Hollow's body. She knew what these demons were. Everyone knew. The Soul Society fought not only to protect pure souls, but to cleanse spirits like this of their forgivable spiritual trespasses. It was their duty to do so, but this…

This was torture, pure and simple.

"Rukia-chan."

There wasn't any reason behind this except to inflict pain, it served no other purpose but…

"Ru-Kia-Chan."

He sang her name, like she was an errant pet, and finally Rukia's attention came back up to the devil in white. Those bloody fingers beckoned for her.

"C'mere, Kuchiki-chan. And bring that pretty little zanpakutō with you."

Obedience to the mark of command was ingrained into her on a basic level now. Feeling like a sleepwalker embarking on some nightmarish midnight sojourn, the traumatized angel of death stumbled forward. She came to a halt before the fallen predator, and stared blankly up into its superior's face.

The kitsune cocked his head.

"I seem to have misplaced my zanpakutō somewhere. Rukia-chan, would you be so kind as to perform the sending for this poor unfortunate soul?"

His tiny subordinate looked at him like he was completely mad.

When she made no further move, Gin made a tsk-ing noise through his teeth.

He then reached down, and encased the girl's hand in his blood-wet grip.

That earned a response from Rukia, judging by the look of wide-eyed panic that crossed her features.

The captain of Squad Three just smiled, as he turned the tip of her snowy blade downward and slowly pushed it in. Rukia's whole body had grown cold, sending small intermittent shivers up her frame. She felt his hands caressing hers, coaxing a feeling disturbingly akin to pleasure from her skin. Oh mercy, don't let that be true, she prayed. Don't let me believe I enjoy this, even for a second. It isn't true. I don't want it. Sode no Shirayuki, please forgive me for putting you through this.

There was no answer from the guardian spirit. It was like his touch had turned something inside her to ice. The most important part of her soul was nowhere to be found.

"Rukia-chan."

Don't say my name. Ever again. You monster. It's you. You're the one…

"It's over, Kuchiki-san. You can stop starin' at me now."

Where once there had been three spirits, there now stood only two shinigami facing one another.

A small butterfly flapped in between them.

The hidden eyes of the fox continued to devour the maiden's soul, bit by bit. He let go of her hand. And when it dropped back to her side, she finished that last thought out loud.

"…I should have killed."

One silvery eyebrow rose.

"Aw, don't belittle your contribution, Kuchiki Rukia. I think you performed splendidly today. Why, even surviving a fiasco like this is a mark of honor. But tell you what: if you feel that bad about it, we'll just let everyone think you took down that guy, and not even mention I was ever here. Sound good?"

No reply.

Instead Rukia gave a short bow, and turned away.

"Please excuse me, Ichimaru-taichou. I need to locate my unit."

She crouched, preparing to sprint from this hollow as fast as she possibly could.

"Did I say you could leave yet, Kuchiki-chan?"

The pale pixie froze.

Behind her, Ichimaru had turned a full-length grin on his little accomplice.

"As a sign of gratitude and all, what do you say you perform a bit of kidō and heal this wound I got so selflessly rescuing you?"

Black-garbed shoulders stiffened.

"I only ask because recovery spells ain't really my forte, and it wouldn't do for a captain to go walking around with a hole in his belly. Bad for morale."

Still no movement made on her part.

"Well?"

She stood back up.

"Yes, Taichou."

Turning back, Rukia approached the tall death god, steadfastly refusing to look him in the eye. He reached down and pulled away the front of his robes on the injured side, revealing a puncture wound still trickling blood. Summoning up a spell for cleansing and restoration, the gifted medic swallowed her revulsion and brought her hands up close to his skin.

Of a sudden spider-like fingers clamped around her wrist.

She flinched and bit her lip to keep from screaming.

"Actually, I think the tip of that bolt might have broken off in me. Would you reach in and pull it out before you begin?"

Her mind went blank.

"I'd do it myself, but I've lost so much blood, my hands feel a little trembly."

There was no evidence of this, as he slowly brought her outstretched digits towards the glistening red mouth.

Rukia stared in silent subjugation.

The tips of her middle and index fingers brushed against moist wetness, flinching back involuntarily. No conscious effort was made on her part to put a stop to this, and before she knew what was happening, Rukia Kuchiki's hand had slipped past the boundary of his skin and entered Gin Ichimaru's body.

She felt organs, slippery and hot, and rigid muscles soaked in his blood. But nowhere did she feel anything resembling a bone point.

"Sir," the girl finally managed to mumble through numb lips. "Sir, I don't feel it."

"No?" His voice was soft as silk. "Come to think of it, neither do I. Must have just been my imagination." And he withdrew her probing fingers with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Well, guess you better just go ahead and fix it, then."

So Rukia did, fully aware of his smile, and the whole time she was repairing the captain's flesh, the knowledge that she would now never be able to forget the feel of it crawling wet and pulsing over her own remained with her.

When it was over, Ichimaru prodded the unblemished spot carefully, and then nodded in approval.

"Nice work there, Kuchiki-chan. You'd be a real asset to the Fourth, no doubt about it. Speaking of which, maybe we should turn our attention to caring for the wounded. It's been a long day."

He gave her a salute with two fingers, and waved dismissively.

"You got my permission to go and help now. Bye-bye!"

With that, the lord of the afterlife disappeared before her eyes.

Rukia stood stock-still at the sight of her accomplishment. Only after a few minutes did it dawn on her that the whole time she had been speaking to Gin, she had not detected his reiatsu even once.

* * *

There was a mess of logistics and conflicting accounts on the outskirts of Hollow's Bog. Recovery procedures were proceeding smoothly, for both the living and the deceased. And with each cloth-draped body hauled out of that marsh, Lieutenant Kaien Shiba cursed himself for a fool.

He had held back. Against his own instincts, he had obeyed his captain's orders and not entered the battlefield himself. When the disruption had first been noticed, Kaien didn't allow himself to panic. There was a captain in there, after all. What cause to worry? Not that heroes couldn't fall, but in this case, it was Jūshirō Ukitake, one of the oldest hands in the game. How could any mere Hollow undo him?

But after the screaming heard coming from that marsh became so pronounced, the errant nobleman had relayed a plea back to base to send any available help, because something unexpected had occurred. The response from the higher-ups was to recall all members of the Thirteenth and allow for the remaining personnel from the Eleventh to deal with this situation, as it was their specialty. Kaien had then spent almost half an hour arguing back and forth about what constituted a massacre and how he could be depended upon to know when his own captain was in trouble. When the answer remained the same, he had thrown up his hands and ordered the remainder of the division into the swamp.

Once inside, the son of Shiba recognized how truly awful this situation was. With the realization that they were somehow being prevented from sensing the Hollows' souls, order virtually broke down. When he finally managed to form the cavalry into three large groups to scour the landscape for their fellows, it was just in time for the assault of the piranha demons. Trying to maintain discipline in the face of that proved fruitless, and Kaien was aghast to watch the prized fighting machine of Soul Society devolve into frantic terror.

Around the same time that a virtual storm of cleansed souls came over the treetops, the communications disruption had suddenly been resolved. The swarm died en masse, and Captain Ukitake's call for medical attention had galvanized everyone involved, restoring calm to the beleaguered masses.

So they won.

Looking down, the lieutenant saw a fallen zanpakutō stuck in the mud. Picking it up, he recognized it as belonging to someone from his division. A girl named Ryoko Ryuhime. Ryo-ryu, for short. She had achieved shikai only a month past. He thought briefly that she must have dropped it, and tucked the unsheathed blade into his obi, hoping against hope that he would find the chance to give it back to her and not just a grieving family member.

"Quite a mess, eh, Kaien-fukutaichou?"

Beside him, Captain Gin Ichimaru flashed a creepy smile, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. That rule-flaunting creep would probably be smirking into his grave. While he respected the younger man's powers, Shiba could never shake the suspicion that given the opportunity, Gin would be happy to eviscerate him and everyone else that came into view of those semi-covered orbs.

"Yes," the nobleman replied. "We truly appreciate your squad's speedy response to our misfortunes, Ichimaru-taichou."

If Gin took any offense at the mild sarcasm, he gave no sign. "Well, y'know, I'm on pretty good terms with the head of the Eleventh. The thought of his boys being slaughtered didn't sit too well with me."

"I'm sure."

I'm so sure.

The other man continued without noticing the interruption. "Of course, we're only here in an unofficial capacity. Word's being passed along through the Second division that nobody's requiring assistance at Hollow's Bog. We're just meandering through your ranks, advising everybody to keep their thoughts to themselves and what not. You understand, got to prevent the junior shinigami from panicking if word gets around about invisible Hollows and a captain getting this worked over. Guess that means you all really took one for the team, eh, Shiba-kun?"

Gin turned and sauntered off, leaving his current punching bag clenching a fist. Did the Central 46 really think they could keep something like this under wraps? For heaven's sake, people talk! You can't threaten this many souls into meek submission. Then again, if the order to do so came from someone you trusted and respected, who were mere death gods to say no? Kaien had the uncomfortable premonition that this duty was going to fall upon his unwilling shoulders.

He cast a surreptitious glance at the leader of the Third. With friends like these, he thought, who needs enemies?

"Kaien-dono!"

Glancing back, the lieutenant saw a face that made him almost weak with relief. Rukia Kuchiki came jogging through the trees, followed closely by the Fifth seat of Squad Eleven. Drawing up to her commander she bowed, and he returned the courtesy to her and the tag-along, who smiled and nodded politely.

"Kuchiki," Shiba grinned happily. "I'm overjoyed to see you're all right."

Her face was glowing. "And I you, Kaien-fukutaichou."

"She wanted to come over earlier," the feathered dandy proclaimed, "but I saw you were conversing with Psycho-taichou, so we held off for a bit."

Kaien noticed Rukia's eyes dart over to where the silver-haired captain stood chatting with some officers, and the look of pleasure on her face melted into tight-lipped apprehension. Looks like he wasn't the only one who felt their hackles raised by that one. Good for her.

"Kuchiki," he spoke gently, and was oddly relieved when she looked back at him. "I heard from certain people that it was you who found the source of those fish-demons and capped them. That was exceptional work."

"Thank you, sir." Strange, he had expected her to blush a little from this praise, but Rukia looked just as uncomfortable now as when discussing Ichimaru.

"You weren't injured in any way?"

"No, sir." She appeared willing to leave it at that, however upon noticing Kaien regarding her expectantly, the unranked aristocrat added, "The captain finished their leader soon afterwards, apparently. There was a guard set around the nesting site, but…"

She swallowed visibly, eyes fixed now on the ground.

"I was able to purify it and escape unscathed."

Typical Rukia, Kaien thought. Unassuming to a fault, not even looking to receive any credit for saving hundreds of souls. This was something he was trying to work on with her.

"We're very proud of you, Kuchiki." Kaien laid a reassuring hand on the tiny mystic's shoulder. "Both myself and Captain Ukitake."

Rukia looked up at him then.

"The captain… will he be all right?"

He couldn't hide the grimace that came over his features. "It was a close call, but they managed to get him back to the Fourth's headquarters before any permanent damage could be done to his system. Apparently Taichou insisted that priority be given to the man who fought with him instead of himself. That comes as no surprise, really."

She wrapped her hand around the hilt of her soul cutter tightly, and seemed about to say more, when the other officer present spoke up instead.

"My comrade from the Eleventh. Do you have any word about his condition?"

The lieutenant gazed at him sadly.

"I'm sorry. They told me his prognosis didn't look good."

Rukia actually reached out a hand to the purple-eyed fighter then. Observing this, the Fifth seat took her offering and raised it to his lips, placing a gallant kiss on her fingers. Kaien felt surprised at this level of intimacy from both of them.

"No worries, all," the combat specialist spoke airily. "The men of the Eleventh never surrender. It's our rule."

* * *

Opening his eyes, Renji found himself lying on a futon under a cerulean spotlight in an otherwise darkened room.

He realized several things, in this order. He was still alive, he was no longer in the swamp, and there was a person sitting next to him.

Something like damp cloth touched his chest, drawing across the pectorals and ribs. This sensation caused him to focus all his attention on it. That feels nice, Renji thought. Relaxation, letting someone take care of you. I could go back to sleep right now, no problem.

"How are you, Abarai Renji?"

Now that was definitely a woman's voice. Looking over towards the source of those words, the patient found his bedside attendant to be a cool, dark-haired beauty of an older lady. Dressed in an expensive yukata detailed in patterns of green and orange, she continued to perform ministrations on his aching body. Her fair skin glowed a soft blue under these lights, and the same color showed up in highlights reflecting off a wealth of smooth sable locks that fell down her back. The elegant healer's face was set in a thoughtful, slightly melancholy expression. Almost as if she was contemplating something too heartbreaking to express to another living soul. But her eyes, when they looked at his, were smoldering with a compassionate fire that seemed to demand the viewer let her take care of them, even hidden as they were behind long black lashes.

If Byakuya Kuchiki actually had a mother, this is what she would look like, Renji thought.

Out loud he only said, "Who are you?"

The physician's mouth lifted in a warm smile that lit up every part of her face.

"Some of my older patients knew me as Hana-chan."

Renji blinked, surprised. " 'Point-chan'?"

And she laughed lightly, making her patient blush from several different emotions.

"Leave it to a member of the Eleventh to choose that definition." Hana then reached up and placed warm fingers on his tattooed brow in a soothing manner. "Are you feeling feverish? Your face is flushed."

"No, I'm okay, really." Boy, does that feel good. Is she using kidō right now or something? Even Rukia's touch never felt like this.

And then it hit him, and Renji bolted upright.

"Rukia!" he gasped.

"She's safe. You don't have to concern yourself, Abarai-kun." The soothing mistress gripped his shoulders and firmly maneuvered them back down to the mat. Renji resisted slightly, but he must have been much weaker than he realized, because she didn't seem to exert any effort at all in returning him to a supine position. Hana then went back to sponging him down with a wet towel while Renji continued to lie there. Hope this didn't last long, it wouldn't improve his reputation if anyone learned he had been manhandled by a woman.

Something else occurred to him at that point.

"Contracorriente."

The warm caress paused.

Both of them looked at one another.

"Is she dead?" Renji asked, worry and hope mingling in his tone for an entirely different reason now.

Hana studied him with a measuring air.

Then she said, "If you are referring to the Hollow that attacked Jūshirō-kun, then yes, it has been dispatched. Though it cost the Captain slightly more effort than usual to do so."

The recuperating shinigami relaxed, a weary grin easing his features. "You have no idea. It was totally insane, I've never seen anything like it. From either of them."

Hana's lips tugged down slightly. "No. You haven't."

"I feel lucky to be alive, let me tell you!"

"Understandable." She continued to perform his ablutions. "Considering that you aren't supposed to be."

For a few moments, nothing more was said.

Renji stirred. "Huh?"

Hana placed the cloth in a dish by her side.

"You really don't know much of anything, do you, Abarai-kun?"

Wringing out the excess water, she folded the towel into a pad and placed it on her ward's forehead. Keeping her hand on it, the beautiful and suddenly cold face bent down a bit closer to his.

"Did you really think a destitute alley-dweller from the 78th District could lay hands on noble-born officers and get away with nothing more severe than a transfer? Is that what you think the Central 46 would consider a fitting punishment for insubordination, and assault on the representatives of their order?"

She looked completely calm, and her voice never rose in pitch. But at that moment, Renji Abarai feared for his life, more so than when he had been nose-to-nose with Natella.

"You were supposed to die, Abarai-kun. Maybe not today, or the day after, but eventually. That's what it means when a member of another division is transferred to the Eleventh. It's basically a death sentence. The Combat Specialists have a mortality rate so high it's worse than a mortal's lifespan, but that's nothing compared to how long their transfers survive. The average length of time is about two to three months. Initial recruits to the Kenpachi's squad are chosen based on martial prowess, but those brought in after assessments are not always given the opportunity to acclimate themselves. Assignment to the Eleventh is just one of the ways that troublemakers are dealt with in the Seireitei. There is no getting out of that division alive, no matter how you distinguish yourself."

"But I…" Renji was sweating profusely, even though the room was so cold. He didn't want to believe what he was hearing, but somehow, it made a sort of sense. "I saved a captain. I did good out there! Ask Ukitake, he'll tell you!"

The look that passed over Hana's face was gentle, and pitying.

"Oh? I think you'll find that if you were to consult the official records of this day, they would show that Jūshirō Ukitake received severe wounds while fighting a very powerful Hollow alone. There were no other shinigami observing this battle who survived. The captain triumphed all on his own, and quite stunningly too, I might add."

Her audience stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"Are you saying," Abarai swallowed in a dry throat, "that they're not going to recognize what I did? I'm just going to keep getting sent out onto missions until I die? Is that what you're telling me?"

He was so angry at the prospect that he wanted to leap up and grab her by the shoulders to shake the truth out of her. But for some reason now he couldn't move. It was like all the strength and will to act had been leached out without his notice.

In Renji's wide-eyed field of vision, the sinister speaker shook her head sadly.

"No, Abarai-kun. What I'm saying is that you are already listed as dead."

His body went cold.

"What?"

"Mm-hmm. According to the reports I will submit in a few hours, the only survivor of this particular duel other than Captain Ukitake was rushed to the Fourth for emergency treatment, at the thankful officer's express behest. Unfortunately, his wounds proved critical, and he succumbed to them in the early hours of the morning. If that did not prove to be the case, there are two members of the Secret Mobile Corps waiting outside, under orders from their superior that the patient in question not last the night. After all, we can't have anyone learning that the legendary Ukitake Jūshirō would have perished were it not for the help of a lowly Squad Eleven grunt, now can we?"

There was no answering call from his soul cutter to come to his aid.

I'm going to die, Renji thought.

Rukia, I never should have brought you to this place at all. Please forgive me.

"And that is how the noble Kuchinisiru Karasu came to meet his end."

He blinked.

What the…?

"Yes," Hana continued, a wickedly sharp smile curving her lips. "It's the name of the man from the Eleventh whose body I will show to our friends waiting in the wings. He has a rather prominent hole in the back of his skull right now, and it looks as if someone ate most of his brains, but I'll have that patched up in no time. And in addition I will have added a few more believable wounds to make it seem like those were what could have killed him. No need for concern, Abarai-kun, I'm very good at what I do. Not even Commander-General Shigekuni himself would be able to tell that's not how the individual in question met his end, and so Karasu's name will be honored accordingly."

Renji was staring at her like she was babbling in a foreign language.

"But… what about…?"

"You? Well, the injuries you received fighting Hollows of a less questionable makeup were not as severe. But some very caustic venom got injected into your system at some point. In spite of our best efforts, you would have found yourself changed fundamentally by that monster's kiss, in ways that might only have become clear to you with the passage of time and the growth of you and your zanpakutō. It could have been to your benefit, or perhaps not. However as I said, the wounds were very difficult. They were given special treatment by the lieutenant of this division at the behest of her sister, but I'm afraid to say that your name too will be counted among the missing for Squad Eleven this month."

Now he was thoroughly confused, and told her so.

"I don't understand this."

In response, the midnight-haired enchantress reached out and laid a tender touch upon his cheek.

"You have some dangerous enemies, Abarai-kun. But you also have some very powerful friends."

* * *

She knew why this had to be done, and what the consequences might be for her. But right now, there was nothing farther from her mind than what negative impact might befall her. The attempt had to be made, and if this person didn't believe that or could be made to realize it, then at least she had tried.

Rukia just wished she knew him a little better.

With that, the determined soul reached up and knocked on the door.

There was the sound of movement from within, and the rustling of parchment. A few moments later, the pane slid open, and warm brown eyes gazed down at Rukia in surprise. She bowed forward smoothly.

"Forgive me for disturbing you at this late hour, Aizen-taichou. My name is Kuchiki Rukia, from Division Thirteen. There is something very important I wish to speak to you upon."

Behind the square-rimmed spectacles, Aizen Sōsuke's fatherly features took on a look of sympathetic understanding.

"Of course, Rukia-ojōsama. Please, come inside."

The head of the Fifth division moved back to allow her entry. Kuchiki stepped daintily over the frame into a comfortably stocked room made warm by a low-banked brazier. There was a tantalizingly familiar aroma hanging in the captain's quarters. Like cinnamon, perhaps. Before she could get wrapped up in such ruminations, her host closed the door and came back around her, seating himself on a cushion in the center of the room.

"Please, ojōsama, be seated. Make yourself comfortable."

Rukia proceeded to do so.

"Can I offer you any refreshments? Some tea, or saké, perhaps?"

"No, thank you, Taichou." He certainly seemed as considerate and approachable as Renji had implied back in their academy days. This was nothing like being in the presence of her brother, whose very existence was like a dangerous pall on any attempted conversation. The exact same words Aizen spoke could have come from Byakuya's mouth, and Rukia would have been so terrified she might have collapsed on the spot. No chances of anything like that happening here, though. Please let this be a good sign. "I apologize if I should seem forward or presumptuous, but this is a matter of life and death, in regards to someone I believe we both know and respect."

Sōsuke Aizen gave a slight frown. "I in no way fault you for daring to approach me, Rukia-ojōsama. Tell me what brings you here and I will do my best to be of service to you."

The dainty death god closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Renji Abarai."

When she opened them again, the captain looked positively stricken.

Then Aizen gave a despondent sigh.

"What of him?"

"He was injured today. During the skirmish at Hollow's Bog, he fell saving the life of my own captain."

"I have been informed that Ukitake-taichou is recuperating comfortably, and at no time was ever in any danger during the conflict."

She was not too shocked to hear that lie fall from this official's lips. But the way he said it, so quickly, made the penitent give him a sharp look. It was like the captain was finding difficulty in speaking those words, almost as if they were sticking in his throat. And that calming look of concern was now marred by a shadow of something Rukia recognized without difficulty: self-loathing.

With this realization, she decided to play her hand to the full.

"Sir," the kneeling supplicant spoke clearly, "I think we both know that the report you received does not bear any resemblance to what actually transpired today."

For a time there, it was like someone had taken a photograph of the room, so stiff and frozen was everyone in it. Until at last, Aizen stirred and spoke.

"Even if that were the case, Ojōsama, I fail to see what brings you to me on this night."

Rukia then sat up a little straighter, calling upon all the courage and determination that the Kuchiki had not yet squeezed out of her.

"Aizen-sama, I have come to humbly request that you accept Renji Abarai back into the ranks of the Fifth. I will do anything you should so require to see this act done. This I swear as a shinigami, and a friend of the man in question. Please. He is a good, trustworthy and decent person. Please reconsider your banishment of him."

With that she placed her hands upon the floor, and the lady of the Kuchiki bowed forth until her head touched the tatami straw mats.

Aizen stared in frank astonishment at the noblewoman debasing herself before him.

"Ojōsama," he murmured in an aggrieved tone, "Please stand up, I beg of you."

At his command, Rukia once more raised her eyes to his level. Although now, he seemed to be having trouble meeting them directly.

"Kuchiki-ojōsama, I will not mince words with you. The decision to transfer Renji Abarai was not mine to make. It came from the highest levels of our society. Even if I were to make such a petition, there is absolutely no chance of it being accepted. Forgive me, but I cannot go against the commands of my superiors. Abarai-kun will stay with the Eleventh 'til the day he dies."

A sob welled up in her throat, and Rukia had to fight to keep it down.

"Aizen-sama," she whispered. "I do not accept that as just. This cannot be the purpose for which Soul Society was created. To take a man with such promise and potential, and throw him to the wolves over some bureaucratic and social indiscretions, is a travesty that deserves the level of cover-up that is transpiring here, for to let it be known would shake the faith of our spirits and drain the strength in our arms far more than any captain's death! If Renji Abarai dies, it will bring no honor to the Seireitei, only shame! I ask you, sir, what is the point of claiming to defend all souls if we are not even willing to look after one of our own?"

Aizen had no response to her words. Instead he fixed his gaze upon the floor between them. But the impassioned arbiter did not miss how his hands clenched in his lap.

"There has to be a way." Kuchiki Rukia was crying now, without the means or inclination to stop. Any weapon she could bring to bear in this fight would not be overlooked, no matter the personal sacrifice. "My own captain is a man of the highest courtesy and honors. If you were to approach him with this matter, I have no doubt he would be willing to support any move on your part. With two such notable figures behind it, what could you not accomplish? Isn't that why you became a captain, to have the strength and authority to address those wrongs that were visible to your eyes? How can you or I or any of us continue to bear our blades with pride, if it comes at the price of our own self-respect?"

Rukia saw Aizen's attention drift over to the wall, where his own zanpakutō lay in its nightstand, and seeing an opening in this powerful man's armor, she pressed her case harder.

"There must have been some time in the past when you felt dissatisfied with a decision handed down by the courts. Am I remiss in assuming that even one of your power and abilities found himself in some stage of his life at the mercy of another, with only the hope of a third party's intervention to save you? We… are the protectors of Soul Society, the defenders of the weak, and what good are the rules if they do not take anyone but themselves into account? Please, it's our duty… to think… about why we do what we do…so that when I…I mean, when we…"

Rukia felt like she was drowning, running out of arguments or air in the face of his potent silence, and in desperation she reached for the only words that came to her mind at that moment, words that seemed to express so articulately what she truly believed.

"Aizen-sama, when we wake up in the morning, I want it to be in a way that lets everyone know that _we still respect_ _all men's souls!"_

The captain's head came up, and in his wide eyes there was a look of something unfathomable.

Rukia gave him back the exact same expression. Where had that come from? It sounded familiar, like somebody had said it to her before. If she could only remember…

Why was he looking at her like that?

"It would…"

What? What did he say?

"It would take more than two to bring this about. But I think I have an idea of whom else we can turn to for help."

The handsome captain rose to his feet and crossed over to where she sat, wearing a look of sincerest admiration. She followed suit and stood up, hope lighting her eyes with its enduring glow. Aizen placed his hands on her shoulders in a courteous manner.

"Kuchiki Rukia, I thank you for coming to me this night. You have reminded me that none of us are above questioning the decisions in our life. I will waste no more of your time, but know that I intend to find a solution to this that will be of benefit to all, Renji and yourself included. Please return to your home and get some rest. When you do awake, I promise that everything will be resolved to your satisfaction."

Rukia beamed furiously at him.

"Thank you so much, Aizen-sama."

* * *

After she left, Aizen immediately went back to his writing. He retrieved a fresh sheet, the brush touched the paper, and…

'_Forgive the interruption, Gin. I believe you were about to say…?'_

'_The Tercera's dead.'_

'_Yes, I gathered that from Ukitake being alive. You're not upset?'_

'_Should I be?'_

'_She did perform the service of vacating a captain's seat for you.'_

'_So I'll put flowers on her grave. This time it was just more than she could handle.'_

'_Is there something you don't want to tell me?'_

'_Yeah. That's why I'm not telling you.'_

'_I trust it's nothing serious.'_

'_Doubt it.'_

'_Anything else to end this note on?'_

'_Nope. Only if it weren't for that Abarai kid, Natella would've been primed for Segundo, at least.'_

'_A restructuring is in order either way. You'll have to excuse me, then, something serious has come up concerning our friend Renji, and I have to move swiftly.'_

'_Before ya go, speaking of rearrangements, Neliel and the Tongue came back today. They brought someone you'll definitely want to meet.'_

'_Oh, really?'_

'_Yup. It's the real deal, Aizen-taichou. There ain't a doubt in my mind, the difference is so obvious you'd have to be a moron not to sense it.'_

'_Does this treasure come with a name?'_

'_Ulquiorra. That's all I could get out of him, he's not exactly chatty.'_

'_I see. Well, then, we'll both have something of interest to discuss when we next meet. Let us make it soon.'_

'_Gotcha. Over and out.'_

'_And Gin?'_

'_Yeah?'_

'_Please work on your penmanship. I have a terrible time understanding your kanji sometimes.'_

'_I'll give it a shot.'_

The connection was severed, and immediately the paper went up in flames. Aizen then stood and left, his mind occupied with other concerns.

* * *

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me in your condition, Ukitake-sama."

"It's nothing to concern yourself over, Aizen-san." The bleached figure coughed into a handkerchief before settling back into his sickbed. "I have taken far more serious wounds in the past."

"Actually, it was regarding today's escapade that I wished to speak with you about."

Jūshirō took note of Aizen's manner. His junior captain had adopted a serious mien now. "Does it involve Soi Fon and Mayuri's investigations?"

"No, nothing of the sort. Actually, it was about Abarai Renji."

"I'm sorry, who?"

"The man who saved your life."

"Ah…" He looked away, and passed a pallid hand before his eyes. "So that was it. I never actually learned his name, you understand. There was so much happening at the time, I simply never thought to ask him."

Ukitake's brow had grown troubled. Yet another mark of shame to bear about. Was the other captain going to supplement his own conscience in berating him for this travesty? But what could he do? It was Yamamoto's wish, and what he says goes.

Before his thoughts could grow increasingly more gloomy, Sōsuke began speaking again in a persuasive manner.

"It is my belief that you and I share a consensus in disapproving of how he is being handled."

"I… have had some misgivings, I'll grant you." The inveterate courtier did not wish to reveal too much to his fellow champion of the ancient order.

"Then perhaps I could lay them to rest. According to my sources, Abarai's actual identity has not been verified by anyone. He was severely wounded, and whisked away immediately by the Fourth at your express command."

"Yes, that much is true." Sweet, uncomplicated truth. Ukitake had not been so distracted as to realize the implications of his ally's involvement in this matter. Withholding the man's name from the report had been one lie he had not been required to perform, and he had hoped that no one would think to look too deeply into it. But it turned out to be a wasted effort, when the decision came down for the man simply referred to as "the unnamed shinigami" who took part in that disturbing death-match to be dealt with before he could fill anyone's head with panicked retellings of human-seeming Hollows that were on par with one of the greatest captains in the Gotei 13. It was deemed an 'acceptable loss'. Yamamoto used that phrase a lot. Along with 'easily replaced'. Neither of them sounded any more decent to the old man's disciple than 'casual murder'.

His guest continued speaking. "I believe that arrangements could be made so that Abarai's name need never be involved with that affair. But it would require you in particular reaching out to a couple of our fellow captains."

Ukitake perked up, keenly interested. Was it possible? Had this clever young soul actually divined a solution to even one of the sorrows that Jūshirō was required to labor under?

"To whom are you referring? Kyōraku might be willing to risk angering the Commander-General, but other than him I don't…"

"Not Shunsui-sama." Aizen drew in close and whispered conspiratorially. "Byakuya."

"Kuchiki-taichou?"

He couldn't believe his ears! Had you asked him to list every one of the nine lesser captains in order of who could _not_ be depended upon to break the rules, Byakuya Kuchiki would have trumped even Komamura and Soifon, hands down.

"Yes. It is my belief that you are the one captain the Kuchiki lord would listen to in this respect."

Jūshirō frowned in puzzlement. "I admit to being on polite terms with the man, but certainly no more so than yourself, or anyone else for that matter."

The bespectacled sorcerer gave a half-hearted smile. "Trust me, sir. You are the man we need."

* * *

Byakuya Kuchiki glanced back and forth between the fellow division heads seated opposite him. His expression was unreadable.

"_This_ is what you wished to converse upon?"

Ukitake shifted in his bandages, a sheen of sweat dotting his brow despite the cool of the evening. Full recuperation would take months, if at all. But his compromised soul would not allow an opportunity to correct this failing to pass him by.

"I understand that you might be loathe to circumvent the current order of things, Kuchiki-san, but in this instance I believe Soul Society would be better served by…"

"There are no exceptions to the rules, Captain Ukitake." The steely-eyed nobleman remained as composed and unflinching as if they had not woken him from sleep. "What you propose is tantamount to mutiny on my part. Your wounds must be affecting your thinking more than I realized if you believe that I would subject my family and my division to such iniquities."

"Byakuya-san."

Beside his partner, Aizen gazed calmly upon the face of their regal host. "I will not sit here and seek to deny that what we propose is both foolhardy and completely selfish of us to even consider asking you. Courtesy alone would dictate that we seek to involve as few people as possible. I will not presume to speak for Captain Ukitake, but if you were to see fit to grant us this benediction, I tell you now that I would consider myself in your debt forever, along with any of the people who trust me to command them. If there is anything that the Fifth division can do to accommodate your lordship in the future, you need only ask, and it will be done immediately without question."

Byakuya's lofty expression did not change one iota at hearing this statement. For a time he simply stared at both of the senior officers without saying a word.

Then those piercing thunderhead orbs turned their sights upon the elder supplicant.

"And does the head of the Thirteenth division concur in that respect?"

Ukitake did hesitate, for just a moment. Just what was he getting into now? Could they not give him some more time to dwell upon the questions being raised so suddenly? But then, Byakuya seemed to take note of his indecisiveness, and rose.

"Gentlemen, if there is nothing further to be discussed, I will take my leave of you."

"ONE MOMENT, PLEASE!"

The stately figure paused.

"What is it, sir?"

There was something disturbingly predatory about that man's face now. Perhaps it was simply the low-burning candles casting shadows from below, but the look that hung over those usually composed features left Ukitake feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Still, he realized that there was simply no other way to live with himself and still feel clean.

"I concur with Captain Aizen. If you do this, then I am eternally in your debt, and the Thirteenth division is yours to do with as you please, so long as it is mine to command."

The hooded gaze rested upon his own, studying him. Neither pleasure nor eagerness was evident in Byakuya's form. But still he retook his seat, and continued to regard them.

"Very well," the master of the manor spoke. "I accept your offer. The man Abarai will be made a member of the Sixth division with the rising of the sun tomorrow."

Both of his guests bowed low before him.

Aizen spoke. "We thank you, Lord Kuchiki."

"Indeed." Byakuya retrieved his cup of tea, and took a sip. He lowered his drink, staring into its steaming depths. "And now you will hear my terms."

Those words caused a shiver to run up Ukitake's spine, all the more so when the aristocrat's ink-black eyes settled on him like a hangman's hand. Still, he had retained his pride, and now it was apparently time to test it.

"Whatever the lord wishes," the infirm captain spoke clearly and without deception.

"You are aware that a high-ranking member of my household is currently on active duty in your company, are you not?"

Ukitake blinked, swallowing a sudden suspicion. "You must be referring to your sister, Rukia-chan."

The hawk orbs might have narrowed ever so slightly at his use of the honorific, but Byakuya continued without any further sign of displeasure. "In the last evaluation to determine assignment of seated ranks in your division, the lady in question was passed over without receiving consideration."

Rukia's captain frowned at this news. "I… was not made aware of this. At the time I was incapacitated, but still I…"

Was that what this was about? Some designs regarding the advancement of his sister? Was that the carrot Aizen felt certain would goad this rigid diplomat into following their lead? Why? What was going on, with both of these two men?

Byakuya actually interrupted him. "Yes, this I know. And it is upon that fact that I would like your cooperation, now and forever, Taichou."

A slight fit of coughing came over him, and Jūshirō clutched his ribs where pain blossomed. "Is it my understanding that you wish to have Rukia's position reevaluated and that she be given a seat within the Thirteenth?"

"No. You misread me. I am the one who influenced your squad's internal order to insure that she would _not_ receive a seat, at great personal expense to myself."

He actually gaped at this statement. What? The workings of his command had been manipulated, _bought? _By this… this _plutocrat? _He practically choked on his own outrage. Suddenly, something became very clear, and his gaze raked over to the brown-haired sophisticate seated to his left. _Aizen!_ That man knew! Somehow, he knew something about Ukitake's own division that he did not!

The man in question returned his elder's stare. He gave no sign of being embarrassed or penitent. Only a look of honest determination stared back at the white-haired warrior.

So, the prime shinigami realized, he kept this secret for when it would work to his best advantage. Is he really sacrificing such a useful piece of information, just to rescue a man who had once been under his command?

Almost as if he were reading his mind, Sōsuke Aizen's lips parted then.

"I once saved Abarai Renji's life, Ukitake-taichou. In doing so, I felt it was my privilege to see to it that soul was put to some good purpose. And when they took his life from my hands, and disposed of it with as little regard as one would a dog on the street, I took _that_ as a personal affront to my judge of character. If it means some of us will have to besmirch our hands this night, it is a far more bearable burden than the one we would labor under were we to simply do nothing. That is why I am here."

While they glared daggers at one another, Byakuya raised his cup once more.

"It is quite simple, Ukitake-taichou. In order for you to complete this evening's skullduggery, you must swear on all that you call your own, be it wealth or pride or trust, that my sister will _never_ be granted a seat, in the Thirteenth or any other chapter of the Gotei 13."

Trembling, the cornered captain turned to regard his imperturbable overlord. His mouth opened, and he almost asked, _Why?_ Why would you do that to her? What is it you are trying to accomplish? What is Rukia to you, anyway?

All this he desperately wanted to know at that time.

But instead the gallant soul held back.

The only words to come from him then were, "I agree."

He then bowed before his host, and waited for the head of the household to rise and take his leave. The whole time, Ukitake Jūshirō tried to tell himself that he was righting a crime he himself was responsible for. But somehow, the abeyant aristocrat felt that he had just been in the presence of something absolutely ruthless, a terrible secret now held like a bared sword over his neck.

_Two wrongs don't make a right_.

One of his old master's teachings. Now more than ever the student prayed Yamamoto had been wrong.

* * *

Renji stared at the relater of this affair.

"So then… I'm…"

"Come the dawn, you will be one more handsome face under the command of the lord of Kuchiki manor, head of the Sixth division of the 13 Imperial Guard Squads, his Highness Captain Byakuya Kuchiki. Ukitake also reached out to the head of the Fourth division, and found her amenable to his entreaties, which is why I'm here with you now."

She bent to retrieve a few more surgical and medical tools, placing them in her basket. "The head of the Combat Brigades will be informed that you are no longer among his band of merry marauders. Whether he knows your name is questionable, though I wouldn't put it past him. Zaraki's smarter than most people give him credit for. I've had cause to speak with him occasionally, in case you're wondering. One of the perks our disparate professions share is cooperation. But all you need to know right now is that your crimes have been redressed, and you're being given a chance to fulfill every promise you ever made to yourself or anyone else."

Hurt. Confusion. Amazement. It was written all over his face. Like a little boy who had been betrayed and then redeemed by his own parents. And at that sight, Hana leaned down and kissed him right on the lips.

It was quick, but that did not diminish the intensity of the act. The healer's mouth crushed against its mate, opening so that she could taste his own. In that moment Renji wasn't thinking about anything else at all except what was being done to his lips. She was warm, and strong, deft with tongue and teeth in a way that caused his heart to pound and other parts of him to react without his conscious control. Before he could even consider how to respond to all this, she drew away. The conquered patient actually reached up in pursuit of another chance to express himself, but Hana was rising, bearing her implements and herself out of his reach.

"Don't give up hope on any of us, least of all yourself, Abarai Renji. You're the reason we do all this. And I think if given the chance, your soul will rise to the very heights of what our society has to offer. After that it depends on you, whether or not you truly feel that you are worthy to catch a shooting star."

She turned and stepped into the darkness, disappearing from sight.

Renji stared, feeling dazed by everything he was being asked to accept.

Had life in the Rukongai ever been as hard as this?

What was he fighting for, if it could all just be taken away at the flick of a wrist, the stroke of a pen?

Why am I here, Renji asked himself?

_You know the answer to that, don't you?_

The red-headed death god smiled at that familiar voice.

_Of course you…_

…_do. We don't really need him to say it, do we?_

Silence.

Slowly, Renji raised himself up. His breath was shaky, and tremors went up his arms.

Well. This was certainly something new.

_To be continued…_


	6. The Trials: Train Me, Sensei!

"_Oh, mercy, make it stop, please, make it stop, I beg you!"_

The bleeding wouldn't stop, though. No matter how the healer tried.

It kept pouring out of his body, fueled by every beat of the recalcitrant heart. The lieutenant himself was well past unconscious, owing partly to the damage he received and a quick soporific spell his hopeful savior had administered. None of that was helping her right now, though.

Isane Kotetsu, lieutenant of the Fourth division, strove with all her skill and strength to halt the crimson river flowing into the loam of the living world.

Several shinigami were clustered around her, members of Squad Ten still dazed and horrified by the night's proceedings. The majority couldn't approach any closer to the scene, kept at bay by the incomprehensible reiatsu still swirling around this place. It was more than just a sense. That lingering aura was as concentrated and deadly as a dagger aimed at their throats. Were they to draw nearer, it might leap to the kill, their spirit bodies providing even less resistance than had their superior officer's.

Kenta Arakaki. That was his name. A man she had met and spoken to several times in her life. He was big and quiet. Exactly the sort of person to be leading the staid professionals of his division. There had never been more than ten words passed between them in a row, but Isane had oddly felt a companionship with him. Maybe it had been the height. They were both over two meters tall.

No longer.

Kenta's legs were lying somewhere off to the left. What remained of his body leaked the afterlife's ichor on this sylvan setting. Willpower alone kept him from fading into oblivion, Isane's as well as his own.

"_What are you doing? I can feel him fading away, you've got to work harder!"_

At her back, the Third seat of this squad alone dared to approach. She was of medium height and no particular beauty, but according to a certain familial rumormonger, she and Arakaki were a very solid item in the Seireitei. Right now, the girl's name escaped her. Saki? Something like that. It was only the grisly intensity of her ministrations that kept the healer from turning and shouting at his lover to stop screaming at her.

I'm doing the best I can!

It just wasn't enough.

There weren't that many wounds, really. In this case, it seriously was quality over quantity. These strikes were of near surgical precision; hard to believe that any feral Hollow could execute such injuries (bad choice of words, forgive me, Kenta). Even with both legs missing, and the gaping hole punched in his sternum, given her well-deserved rank and proven skill at recuperation, it should have at least been possible to stabilize her comrade, giving Captain Unohana a chance to arrive and work another miracle.

It was the reiatsu level of the wounds that balked her. Never had the willowy sorceress encountered anything as insidious as this soul substance, so dense she was half-convinced she could reach out and touch it. What in heaven's name could have caused this, she wondered in an abstract corner of her mind untouched by horror and self-reproach? This couldn't be a _Menos Grande_; even the rare sample of _adjuchas_ she had been allowed to analyze was inconsequential compared to it.

Mother of mercy, don't let it be real…

Don't die, Arakaki-san. Please don't prove me right.

At last, the blood-flow ceased.

Behind her, several people let out cheers and gasped laughter.

"She did it!" someone shouted.

Lieutenant Kotetsu leaned back wearily.

You fools. Are you blind?

He's dead.

Isane stood up then, and the Tenth's third seat (Sachiko, that was her name), rushed forward, only to be balked by the lingering pall left on the dead man by his killer.

"What's going on?" someone asked.

She didn't bother to respond, knowing that it would only lead to more of what was becoming habit of late. The Second seat's steps took her away from that spot. I just need some time to think about all this. Maybe if you would just give me an hour to myself, I can come to terms with it. Four of us lost in the space of just two years. Was no one else questioning these deaths?

"Damn useless Fourth."

That reached her ears clearly. Whether they meant it to or not. Grief expressed itself in many ways, Isane knew. Anger was the most common. In such cases as this, when the justifiable target of their wrath was no longer in evidence, people were always more than eager to turn their ire on the next available candidate. As she and her subordinates well knew, too often they fit the bill for that outrage.

"She should have done more! Sachiko-san, please, come away from there…"

"Why didn't they get here faster?"

"We were here. Why didn't _we_ do anything?"

"Did anybody see it?"

"No. Just felt it. For a few seconds. I couldn't move."

"Me neither."

"What was it? Hollow?"

"Don't be an idiot! No dumb animal could have done this!"

The tousle-headed death god continued back towards the Senkaimon she had entered through. A hell butterfly pattered down to brush softly against her cheek. Isane moved her head to the side, and spoke carefully.

"Isane Kotetsu, Division Four lieutenant reporting in. The lieutenant of Squad Ten, Kenta Arakaki, has been killed while on patrol in the mortal realm."

She then thought for a few moments before deciding on whether or not to follow her instincts. Would the captain find fault with her were she to make this call herself? I have enough people upset with me right now, the last thing I want is to be forced to submit to an inquiry on misconduct and breach of protocol.

But if I don't do it, I'll have nightmares from not knowing.

That much I do know.

"We request the Twelfth division perform a fact-finding autopsy immediately."

The delicate sprite took off, making its way back to Soul Society.

When another one came to act as her guide, Isane followed.

* * *

Blood flavored Rukia's dream that night.

It came bursting out of Kaien Shiba's back as she thrust the blade home, ending his new-born existence as a Hollow-shinigami fusion. This time, the only thing that came out of his mouth was scarlet, soaking her robes even though she couldn't feel it.

The stream of Kaien's life was a river, spilling out onto the floor in a pool before turning black and unnatural under the moonlight. It came to her suddenly that if she didn't move, it was going to stain the hem of her robes. Rukia tried to step away, dragging the dead body with her. Only then did she realize that it was not Kaien being held up by her anymore. Instead, it was Gin Ichimaru standing there, smiling and grasping her shoulders. The blood was spilling from a hole in his stomach, and her hands were trying to plug the gap.

Struggling ineffectively against his grasp, the dreamer slowly bent back against her will, Gin's strength almost folding her over at the waist.

Soifon stood a few feet away, holding two corpses on her shoulder. One was Kaien, and the other…

"Lucky," Gin spoke.

She raised her head to get a better look at him.

Ichimaru's eyes were red as the blood only a short distance below. He flashed his teeth in a way that made her wish she could scream, but that was against the rules.

"Have a drink, Kuchiki Rukia."

Then he pushed her head under the pool.

She slid in fully, as natural as anything.

There were dead people floating in there. Childhood friends, half-recognized faces, former acquaintances. I'm one of them now, she realized. Falling into my hell of blood.

But I don't belong here. I'm still alive. Won't anybody see that and speak up before they write my name on their rolls?

"Please?"

Someone called out, and when she looked up, it was to find her brother swimming downwards.

It was only the horror of this place that caused her to reach up towards him without fear for once.

Byakuya held one end of his long scarf, and it was this he offered out to her. When she grasped hold, the line of precious silk retracted, pulling Rukia back towards the surface.

Wait, what about him?

Looking down, she saw his stern ivory face fading into the crimson depths. He took my place, she realized.

Then the girl broke the surface, and found herself hanging before a man whose eyes were hidden by the moonlight reflecting off them.

"I knew you could be relied upon, Rukia-chan," he laughed.

"It's only a dream," she replied back.

That was how you break the spell, she realized. Recognition.

This became clear just then, when Rukia Kuchiki woke up.

For half a moment, she thought there was a flash of movement at the edge of her vision.

It took an effort to rise, having just come back from the Land of Nod. But when she finally managed to hoist up off the futon, it was to find herself alone.

The certainty of this realization allowed Rukia to close her eyes once more and settle back into the pillow's welcoming comfort. It had just been another nightmare. When she awoke fully, the memory would pass, as it always did.

Upon feeling her brain settle back into the state of pre-torpor, one lingering thought appeared unbidden.

Somewhere, somehow, a person had just died.

She slept.

* * *

That had been disturbingly close.

Rukia had almost caught him watching over her while she lay dreaming. That would have called for some rather embarrassing explanations. Fortunately, he had been trained by the best, and neither his talents nor instincts had been permitted to go dull in the intervening years.

Bless you, Yoruichi, wherever you are.

With this benevolent benediction in mind, Byakuya Kuchiki landed on the roof of a watchtower bordering his estate. Beneath his feet, a sentry could be felt scanning the grounds for any sign of uninvited guests. Apparently his presence had not been detected. Good grade for himself, and a black mark for the servant. He would see this woman transferred to a position that was not deemed essential within the hour. It did not matter that he was a captain-level; the white haori did not automatically imply trust. Full half of his thirteen associates were unscrupulous murderers who would balk at nothing, certainly not assassination. The number he would consider leaving alone with his sister could be counted on one hand.

While considering the less savory aspects of the captains' personalities, the brooding widower was distracted by a sense of sudden urgency.

Moments later, a hell butterfly dropped out of the dark side of the moon and settled upon his outstretched fingers.

When he accepted its message, any satisfaction with this world slipped soundlessly away.

Yet another lieutenant had been slain. This time from the Tenth.

That makes… four in all. Four seats vacant. Including my own.

This would not go unnoticed. The ones who kept track of their army's ranks would inevitably go running to tell the souls who sat in judgment over them all. His father had worn that privilege once. Until it broke him. And old bonds meant nothing to those secluded in the Chamber of 46. They were concerned only with maintaining the peace and tranquility which served as a marked contrast from that system their charges had struggled under when alive.

Byakuya felt the breeze blow gently through his sable hair.

He had already taken preparations to prevent any more 'acceptable losses' in his own household. But once again, it seemed, the times had grown dangerous. Seclusion was all well and good, but should actual conflict erupt, then it would be for the best that his wife's sister possess as comprehensive a training regimen as possible.

She had received expert tutelage from his house staff in the blade, tactics, and kidō. But lectures and drills only prove so much. His own swordmaster was wont to remark upon the dramatic improvement she demonstrated following that incident in the bog. There is certainly something to be said for having your skills put to the test.

However, since the misfortune with the Shiba clan, Rukia's confidence had suffered a grievous blow. Coming face-to-face with personal loss was the sharpest reminder of how fleeting even souls can be. Someone you cherished and depended upon could be here one day, and when you wake up the next it is to find them gone, never to return. It was easy to slip into self-defeat after that; telling yourself that the world no longer had any significance, and that your place in it was trite and futile.

I have trod that path. Has Rukia, unbeknownst to me, still lingered upon it as well?

If so, it will not require finding true love for her to step off of it.

Because this place we live in is good. And while we might chafe at its limitations, ultimately those restrictions are proven to be for our lasting benefit. Standing at the top does not mean I look down upon all those around me. Rather, it only provides me with clarity as to what they all engage in, and why. I stand as a guardian of order, but not just for its own sake. It is for the people I care about, so that they will be able to reap the benefits of that virtue's protection.

Crouching on the tower's tiled roof, he pondered carefully.

So. What are my options?

Ukitake knows better, but the rest might petition beyond his influence if they feel a candidate is worthy enough. There are limits to what even captains can accomplish, and rightly so. Absolute power is not meant for any but the most deserving hands. So I have taken steps to ward off any prying eyes. But her skills might already shine too brightly to be contained forever.

What, then? I could have her removed from the rolls of service entirely. That would probably serve to keep any eager captains from sniffing around. However, it would not be wise to assume the beast that slew my mother and the one who fought Ukitake to a standstill are not indicative of a growing trend among the Hollows. Should she somehow be confronted by such an opponent again, there must be no shortcomings in her abilities. A lieutenant's rank means nothing, after all. Only power counts. And survival. Given that this might already be the case, would it not also be a wise practice to see she receives training from those who are not only eminently qualified, but privy to the same daily risks and dangers as herself?

Tutors and men-at-arms can coddle, after all. They are not all endowed with specific experience, and with the passage of time, even the doughtiest warrior can miss out on whatever changes the battlefield might have to offer. The man who took up her training afterwards is certainly skilled and up to date on combat, but he is as focused on bloodshed as the rest of his lot. Rukia requires more.

Byakuya would take no chances when it came to ensuring his sister's safety.

It was time to consider his options once again.

* * *

If you were to enter the Research and Development Bureau, it might be with the apprehension of finding oneself in a dimly-lit horror house, replete with constricting hallways and sharp turns around which lurked new and more horrifying visions which bore no small resemblance to Hell itself.

Well, you would be mistaken.

The lights were kept at a more than adequate level.

In most places, at least. The corridor down which Captain Unohana Retsu and her second-in-command were walking was just as bright as day. Lined with a procession of numbered doors, they could hear voices coming from behind some of those portals, along with the occasional scratching and plaintive whimpering. Trailing in her captain's wake, Isane did her best to ignore anything heard along that route.

This place had always felt unwelcome to her, right from the start.

Eventually the silent pair stood before one door in particular. Emblazoned upon it was a large ornate 'X'. At their approach, four pairs of eyes slid open at each tip of the letter. The looming lieutenant could not suppress a flinch, as usual. Small wonder she dreaded this part of the job. Each eyeball had a diagonal slash for a pupil, pointing in either direction. As the shinigami waited patiently, the multi-colored orbs turned to regard them.

Under their collective stare, Unohana bowed her head politely.

"The heads of the Fourth division would like permission to enter the captain's chambers, in order to discuss the ordering of lieutenants."

Four spheres spun, as if reporting this information, and then began to slide along the lines of the 'X'. When they met, the eyes merged into one another, until all four pupils intersected to form a smaller 'x'. With this, the gate unlocked, its safeguards neutralized. It slid upwards, and after both ladies passed underneath, came back down.

The passageway down which they now trod was shaped like a right triangle. While pedestrians could move comfortably along the perpendicular planes, the lower angle of the corridor was filled with pipes and tubes of various colors, stretching along the path. For Isane especially, this odd architecture was quite a hassle to traverse. Considering that the architect was among the shortest of the captains, he had clearly not bothered to give consideration to anyone else's comfort when designing the layout of his laboratory. As it was, the Amazon healer was always under the impression that her head was about to get stuck between the top sides of this hall.

A hundred meters down the way, the duo at last came upon a fleshy pink wall which blocked their path. The pipes proceeded into this surface without cease, but anything outside of a liquid format was required to place their hands upon the disturbingly warm and spongy surface, which they now did. The Second seat oftentimes wondered what would happen if a person who had not been granted access were to approach this slab. Probably something unspeakable, considering how the demented doctor guarded his research and privacy. As it was, the question had to remain unanswered, as a hole opened in that sakura-colored mass, spreading out like the petals of a flower to encase them in its embrace.

This was the part Vice-captain Kotetsu really hated. Apparently the room that lay beyond here was not the actual laboratory. Whomever made the mistake of trying to force their way through was liable to be disappointed at the result, perhaps fatally. Instead the portal swallowed its guests, and proceeded to transport them to another room whose location in the compound was unknown to virtually anyone alive. At times like this, encased in pulsing, vaguely organic matter and kept from screaming only by the presence of her superior, the shaggy-headed sorceress wondered: he couldn't have built all this on his own. What became of the people who helped him, the ones entrusted with intimate knowledge of a captain's experimental refuge?

A viscous substance caressed her cheeks, and Isane had a disturbing premonition as to what further use those workers had been put to.

In the space of a few heartbeats, captain and aide-de-camp were deposited gently in a vibrantly colored room of asymmetrical architecture. Massive pediments sloped up to the shadowy ceiling, accompanied by queerly wrinkled tubes, all composed of an adamantine reishi that could withstand even a captain-level ban-kai. Several huge bubbles were set into the floor, around which waist-high cylinders of death-stone protruded at regular intervals. In there could be found the most prized specimens of the lord of the RDB, captain of Squad Twelve, and former incarcerated inmate of the Gotei 13.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi.

At their feet, a hole suddenly opened, and out shot the man himself.

His top lip curved fiercely, and while the mouth didn't open, they could clearly hear the madman chuckle.

Isane bowed forth, while Unohana inclined her head politely.

"Mayuri-sensei," she addressed him.

Golden eyes blazed out of the black mask painted on his pointed face, and those dead white hands wound around one another eagerly.

"The only good thing about having my ideas dismissed outright is when I am inevitably proven to be RIGHT!"

With that, the painted professor spun away from them and strode off, leaving the women to trail in his wake. As they moved to one of the obtuse domes, he continued speaking, very much like a man giving a tour. "You remember, don't you, Retsu-sensei? Not one year ago, I gave them a perfectly presentable and cost-efficient prototype body armor already suited for distributing among the troops. A design that I had spent numerous weeks designing, testing, and refining until it would serve to grace even a captain's shoulders if need be! It was light, it was malleable, and it PROTECTED THE BODY! And do you know what they told me?"

"I recall something from your recitation about inconvenience being mentioned."

The party had come upon one of the half-spheres, and at Mayuri's approach, an opening yawned wide, granting them entry.

"Yes! INconVEnience! THAT is how they referred to my diligent labor! While I could have been devoting myself to matters of more private interest, instead I took the time to fashion something that would potentially impact the abysmal casualty rate that has only been steadily growing since my investiture. And how do those cloistered coin-mongers thank me? WITH BLAND ADMONISHMENTS! Hanging their hoary heads, casting casuistic looks between one another, and then grumbling about how it might 'inconvenience' our men that the armor could never be taken off!"

They came into a domed chamber, and at this point their crazed host whirled to confront his comrades.

"So they have to learn how to copulate in chainmail! Would it be less of an 'inconvenience' to have their organs sucked out by some brainless Hollow? But NO! Even when I suggested it be distributed among the higher-ranked officers alone, they only treated me with studious dismissal. Perhaps young master Arakaki from the Tenth could voice his opinion about which is the more enduring irritation? Oh my, I suppose he'll never get the chance now, will he?"

Kotetsu was not keen on enduring one of the shinigami scientist's tantrums on normal occasions, but this one was of particular discomfort to her. Already, the jab was having its unintended affect; _could_ the armor Kurotsuchi developed have saved her ally's life? She had not been present when these two captains had examined the result of their latest collaboration, so there was no first-hand data to back up any assertions this madman might have concocted in his head. And the damage done to Kenta's body had been severe enough to resist even her most dogged attempts at healing.

There was just no way of knowing. Blame could not be parceled out here so freely. It was an extreme example of the perils they faced.

She closed her eyes.

Monsters. Everywhere she looked, there were monsters.

"Mayuri-sensei…"

He appreciated that. Always. Isane knew as well as anyone how this man was viewed in the ranks of the Gotei 13. Not even half a century ago, they had said such things about his predecessor. 'What a brilliant creation! That Kisuke Urahara is a freaky genius'. But nowadays, the whispers went along different lines. 'What a disgusting idea! That Mayuri Kurotsuchi is a freak'.

And he was crazy. From the way he treated himself to his outlook on others. It was mad. But even madmen had their pride. And although he hardly ever showed it in public, the constant distrust of his contributions to Soul Society did anger this brilliant soul. It was like no matter what he did, there was a measure of disdain that crept into all the shinigami upon speaking of him. The armor he had referenced was just one of his attempts to reach out in a friendly gesture that had been met with what Mayuri considered unfathomable denial.

Go figure.

But from the first, Unohana Retsu had treated her new fellow captain with what others considered confounding respect. She called him 'sensei', and offered her long insight and experience into the workings of soul bodies to that outlandish madman. Who else but the gentle, humble captain of the Fourth would ever consider such a bond of trust as reasonable? And when you came down to it, none could find fault with her decision. Though other death gods treated her division with outright contempt, scoffing at their limited contributions on the front lines, they never dared afford the captain anything less than the utmost respect.

When one caught sight of the black braid, all thoughts of insults died away.

Perhaps that too made her dealings with Kurotsuchi easier to understand. So they called one another 'teacher', and were on very good terms.

"I believe you wished to show us the results of your efforts this past month?"

A look of undeniable pride came over his carnival-freak face. All talk of wounded egos and other such things quickly fled.

"Indeed I would! I think you'll be most impressed with what has come about since your last inspection."

He snapped his fingers, using the long-nailed index and thumb. At this specific signal, it was as though a curtain had been pulled away from the center of the room. Coming into view, seemingly from out of nowhere, there was a glass cylinder, ten feet in height and capped on top and bottom with a collection of unrecognizable devices. Tubes extended from the interior, drawing down to fasten upon a form crouched on its knees within that container.

Isane heard her commander sigh in appreciation.

"You've done it, Mayuri-sensei!"

What? The lieutenant peered closer. Doesn't look any different to me, what was she…

Then it hit her.

Cradled against its chest, half-hidden by the bent head, there was protruding the hilt of a slim saber.

The sight sent shivers up the tall wallflower's spine. He really had done it, in spite of all the doubters and naysayers.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi had bestowed a zanpakutō upon his creation.

After two years of nonstop experimentation, failures and running into brick walls, they had engineered an artificial lieutenant-level shinigami. The captains couldn't have looked happier.

For her part, their meek observer tried hard not to think about how any of the others would react to this news.

At another gesture from the demented doctor, the capsule's shell cracked open to reveal a door, and the various scientific appendages snapped off to zip back into the surfaces from which they came.

"Stand up," Mayuri ordered.

The figure did so, then stood still.

Isane watched the motionless creation, apprehension causing her to bite the inside of her cheek. There was no way this would go smoothly.

It had all started after the Twelfth division had lost its lieutenant. Absurdly enough, it was not due to any act of warfare, but a simple moment of carelessness. While overseeing the transport and disposal of an unstable supply of banned experimental chemicals, the Second seat had failed to notice one of the workers stacking several vessels on top of one another, in an effort to save time. Moments later this overloaded cart tipped to one side, and the casing broke along one of the vials. No one was permitted to go near the site for a month, even to retrieve the bodies. Some speculated that perhaps the accident was no such thing, and Mayuri had simply wanted to observe the effects of his discontinued formulae on shinigami subjects. These rumors were never repeated in his presence, but they would only have gotten worse if they knew what she did.

Shortly after this incident, the head of the Research and Development Bureau had approached her mentor with an incredible proposal. Having been dissatisfied with the candidates to replace his lost adjutant, Kurotsuchi proposed that they create one, using the templates of his barely-legal faux body and mod soul research. Much to Isane's horror, Retsu had agreed wholeheartedly, offering her insight to their attempts to fabricate from scratch a synthetic soul with the power of a lieutenant. It had been a most daring, secretive, and often frustrating endeavor.

This was the result.

The brainchild of the two most brilliant and powerful minds in their divisions was female, of middling height and slender build. There could be no doubt that her body was well-formed, though, possessing a smooth muscular carriage that showed in her brief movements. One could tell that more strength lay therein than a casual perusal might reveal, were one not distracted by the ample endowments of her breasts, or the winsome, statuesque beauty of the face. She had hair of a royal purple hue that hung unfettered all the way down her back. Someone, probably Mayuri, had cut her bangs off straight across right above the eyebrows, no doubt so that the first observers would not fail to miss the unusual tint of deep green eyes looking out at them. Those eyes remained lowered in a subservient manner, and not the faintest hint of distress marred the brow or lips at being displayed naked like this. Had she not seen this girl move with her own eyes, Isane would not have known her to be alive at all.

Captain Kurotsuchi was grinning ear to ear, like a proud parent. The two head officers both stood admiring their handiwork, while in the background, the naturally-born lieutenant was feeling quite out of place. While she would never consider allowing her captain to enter this spider lair unaccompanied, just being privy to such a display left her wondering what the rest of society would make of this.

At first it had just seemed to be Unohana providing support for another of Mayuri's wildly unreasonable hypotheses. He didn't always succeed. She knew that for a fact. And for a time, this too had seemed to be another scheme doomed to failure, its results smashed underfoot by the maniac's pride and temper.

But it wasn't an experiment anymore. It was a success.

"She will perform brilliantly come the trials," the cadaver captain smirked.

His ally stepped forward to take a closer look. "You've determined the blade's capabilities?"

"To my satisfaction. The spirit has been confirmed and codified. By my calculations, she will uncover her zanpakutō's name and form within three weeks at most, well before the deadline for the trials. The results will more than serve to prove its effectiveness when I bring my proposal before the Chamber of Central 46."

"I'm pleased to see you so confident, Mayuri-sensei." She turned about and favored him with a smile.

Kurotsuchi was rubbing the bronzed cap that was his earlobe and beaming in a most frightening manner. "Let them try to find fault with my creation _this_ time. It cannot be done!"

"Yes, the old men do tend to look for any excuse available to constrict the purse strings, don't they?"

"Indeed," he muttered with narrowed eyes, never ceasing to inspect his latest achievement, like he was searching for the tiniest flaw that only the artist of such a treasure could know of.

Retsu frowned then, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin. "Actually, Sensei, it occurs to me that there may be one area of her training which might stand out to them as deficient."

The painted features took on a look of round-eyed incredulity. "Eh? What possible limitation on its capabilities could there be! We've tested it in terms of strength, speed, durability, kidō, acumen, strategy, and swordplay. Its prowess in terms of combat ranks higher than any current lieutenant at this time!" He had apparently forgotten that Isane was still in the room, which suited her just fine. "How could its specs be deficient?"

"Mayuri-sensei," Unohana actually glided forward and laid a hand on the quivering academic's shoulder. At her touch, his agitation subsided somewhat. Hard to say if this was due to the healer captain's influence or not, because finding anyone willing to come within two feet of this diabolical genius was difficult enough to hinder comparison. "In all our time together, we have sought to craft a perfect subordinate for you. But lest you forget, the duties of a lieutenant are more than just to serve their captain. They themselves hold a leadership position within their division. In the field, they must be able to assume command whenever needed over both their fellow seats and the regular forces. If an officer lacks experience with the temperament and capabilities of the ones she must lead, that inexperience could lead to misjudgments on the battlefield, ones with serious repercussions."

The reclusive mortician's eyes rolled slowly in his sockets as he considered what she was saying. "Oh my… you think they might ask for a demonstration of leadership? Yes, yes, such an underhanded tactic would be right up their alley, enough to bull heedlessly over all my wonderful accomplishments." Mayuri's attention came back to Unohana. "How do you suppose we should remedy this?"

A slight smile lifted the corner of the beautiful pacifist's lips.

"You need to let her go outside."

"Eh?" he blinked. "Outside where?"

"Into the Seireitei."

"_What?"_ Kurotsuchi drew back and raised an arm defensively before him. He looked like a nightwalker being exposed to sunlight, Isane mused absently. "Put my creation in the midst of that dross that passes for soldiers? How can you think such a thing, Sensei? Why, in no time at all, those clumsy oafs would dull and subvert its finely tuned faculties with their mindless carousing and heedless fumbling! If we expose it to inferior standards so soon in its development, there might be long-term damage that would take years to pinpoint and undo! The research possibilities are intriguing, I'll grant you, but at this time we could stand to lose more than we gain. Besides, neither of us has the time to oversee such a venue, and there is no one else qualified to handle its training."

"Ah, but there is."

At this point Isane, who had been relatively secure in her position as a fly on the wall to this engagement, suddenly found herself to be the focus of both captain's unblinking stares.

"Her?" The distrust in his voice would have been offensive had the looming lieutenant not been reduced to a quivering puddle of dread when his smoky golden gaze landed squarely on her. It was bad enough when he scarcely noticed her presence. Why, oh, why had her respected superior suddenly brought her to Mayuri's attention?

"Lieutenant Kotetsu has been privy to our research since the beginning, so she appreciates the finer points of handling the newborn's care. And she is more than aware of how a second-in-command must relate to the warriors under their supervision. Isane can be depended upon to shepherd your candidate, and she will exercise good judgment as to what situations would be of the most benefit in this task."

Merciful heavens, it almost looked like he was considering it! Wait, shouldn't I have a say in this?

"Ta… Taichou, I feel that I must point out, my duties are…"

There was no change in Unohana Retsu's smiling features. No movement at all. It was more like all the compassionate warmth and encouragement that naturally resided just below her skin simply drained away. What was left froze the blood with its frigid displeasure. It was every parents' face in the world upon finding their child engaged in something improper. The promise of retribution. _Unholy…_ retribution. And upon seeing it, the child knows that they have done a bad thing, and they must do everything in their power to remind the parent that they love their offspring and try to remedy the situation, crawling in the dirt like a worm so as to avoid the dreadful agony of punishment that will surely follow otherwise.

Isane next found herself collapsed in the posture of submission, hands on the floor and forehead kissing the stone. "It would be my honor to assist the captains in any way possible," she heard herself whimper.

And with that, the magic turned back on again.

"Splendid, Isane-san! You see, Mayuri-sensei? She would be glad to offer her aid to you."

"Oh my. Such wonderful obedience," Kurotsuchi mused out loud. "I really must do research on how to duplicate such behavior for when the time comes. It would be most advantageous to my presentation! Oh, and yes, I suppose we can depend upon your underling to assist us in this new avenue of exploration."

At this time the groveling lieutenant heard those explorers of the soul take their leave of that place. Behind them, the experiment and its new handler remained motionless.

"While we're on the subject of social interaction, Kurotsuchi-sensei, I believe there is one area that should be addressed at long last."

"And that would be?"

"Her name."

"Ah. Yes. You did make mention before of that being necessary once all parameters of survival had been met."

"Since so much of her is derived from your own soul-body, it is only natural that you should both share a surname, in order to confirm the relationship."

"Naturally. To let one's works know to whom they belong. In addition, I have given the matter some thought, and concluded that the given name should serve to emphasize its most pleasing characteristic to me."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Nemu."

"Nemu. 'Value from Void'. Why, it's a beautiful name!"

"Actually, I meant its definition as 'Sound of Nothingness'."

"Oh. Well, she is quite silent, after all."

"Pleasantly so."

"You also might want to get into the habit of referring to Nemu as 'her' and 'she'."

"What possible good could that do me?"

"Allow me to explain…"

They then adjourned to a lounging area, where both bastions of the afterlife relaxed upon large cushions and shared their thoughts along with the relaxing fumes of a hookah, its soft blue smoke lending the air a most ethereal quality.

* * *

Curved scimitars embraced Sode no Shirayuki in a razor-sharp fist, yanking it from her grasp.

For a moment, Rukia stood there empty-handed in a field of blooming gardenias.

Then a fist swung towards her gut.

_Just like last time!_ The thought galvanized her into action. In an instant she had raised her leg, catching one foot on the approaching limb and using it as a spring to propel herself back. It still hurt in spite of this, but for the moment she was airborne and he was not. And so the agile maiden thrust her palm out and shouted a spell.

"HADŌ 29! HEAVY LIGHT!"

A circle of light ten feet in diameter formed over her opponent, and then slammed down with the force of a raging cataract, crushing everything beneath it under a cylinder of massive energy.

The magic-user landed, observing this pillar closely. An amateur would sit and wait for the dust to settle, so to speak. But after all these years, one thing that no longer made any sense was hoping you had won, when you could be proving it. With that, Rukia Kuchiki began another incantation.

"The back, which blocks off sight/ The front, which reflects all light/ Stand before me and paralyze all who look upon you/ You Second Imperial Treasure, whose name is Mi…"

"Takes forever, doesn't it?" Yumichika sighed in her ear.

Kuchiki pirouetted and drove her elbow into his jaw.

At least, she tried to, but the handsome fighter just caught it, and grinned.

"I was just saying…"

She kneed him in the groin.

Wine-purple eyes squinted tight.

"Now that's good fighting, Rukia-chan."

He released her arm and stood bent over slightly, breathing deeply through his nose. When Ayasegawa glanced up, it was to find his sparring partner hovering anxiously over him, a look of worry written large over her face. This in turn brought a scowl to his own.

"Are you going to fall apart like this every time you injure me? Because it's going to happen more often, if your progress is any indication."

"I'm sorry," the young lady bowed her head miserably. "I don't know what came over me there, I didn't think…"

"Remember one thing, Rukia-chan: in a death-match, regrets are for the victor. The vanquished have no such burden. Which would you rather be?"

Her flirtatious fencing master drew himself up, a slight pallor to his rosy cheeks the only lingering sign of discomfort. Once more a friendly smile graced his lips. "You didn't have to think about it because you weren't taught it. A blow like that is basic instinct, and the reason is because it's a damn good one. And apologies aren't beautiful, if you recall."

That right there was a sure sign he was doing all right. Rukia had trained with Yumichika Ayasegawa long enough to recognize his moods, even if they did only range from cheerfully narcissistic to shamelessly self-absorbed.

"Don't you think you should retrieve your sword, my dear lady of Kuchiki?"

She hesitated, feeling slightly embarrassed now, then dashed off to where Sode no Shirayuki lay.

_You know he let his guard down when he took me away. You might want to consider that as a tactic._

I'll keep it in mind.

_It wouldn't be the first time someone underestimated you, but you could make it their last._

Whenever you get excited, it makes the air cold. You're wilting the flowers, so try and restrain yourself, yes?

Sheathing the weapon once more, she then trotted on back to Yumichika, who was now seated half-submerged in the ocean of snow-white petals, eyes closed. Rukia remembered how he had scolded her when she first asked for permission to sit beside him, so she no longer had to. Light steps brought her to his side, and she knelt a pace off.

"Have the two of you been conversing?" he asked.

Kuchiki nodded. "I've been trying to find time for her at least once a day. There's still a lot of catching up to do."

"Harmony between partners is a cardinal virtue of Confucianism. You're wise to seek it, Rukia-chan."

They sat for a while in the fragrant field. A soft breeze was rustling the stalks, adding a steady rhythm to the sylvan backdrop that stole attention away from all the rest. It was a rather peaceful dale in the heart of a mountainous region. Ayasegawa had volunteered it as the ideal spot for sparring. Apparently a friend of his had trained Renji Abarai hereabouts in the not-too-distant past. The thought had given Rukia a strange mix of familiarity and longing, so she had readily agreed to his suggestion.

After a few minutes of mutual recuperation, she stirred and glanced over at her ally. "Ayasegawa-san?"

"Yes, enchanting mistress?"

Focus.

"What do you and Fuji Kujaku talk about?"

He took a deep breath of the late autumn air, and exhaled contentedly.

"Why, about how lovely Rukia-chan is!"

_Saw that coming. He never answers when he can flirt._

Be serious!

"Be serious for a change, Yumichika-san!"

"I am." The veteran combatant looked at her from the corner of his eye. "When you and I are together, my zanpakutō won't stop yammering about how pretty you look, that cute face you get when you're flustered, and how she wishes she could get her hair to lie naturally the way you do. It can be very distracting during our battles, but ultimately, I can't help but concur."

By this point, Kuchiki Rukia had buried her face in her up-turned knees and seemed intent on remaining in that position for anything less than a Hollow attack. The Fifth seat of Squad Eleven only smiled affably and looked into the distance, breaking off a cloudy blossom and nibbling upon it lightly.

Eventually a muffled voice spoke.

"Yumichika-san, do you mean it when you call me all these things?"

He gave a toss of his hair. "Without a doubt."

Rukia stirred then, and her violet gaze peered over at him. There was a moment's hesitation, but at a certain spirit's urging, she got it out.

"Do you consider me… attractive?"

The look he turned on her then was so solemn it appeared out of place on his normally carefree features.

"Attraction means something different to each of us, Rukia-chan. So while I consider you to be a splendid example of maidenhood, I'm afraid I must disappoint you, my little flower. For you see, my heart belongs to another."

Rukia hadn't known whether she would be flattered or disappointed by his answer. But in typical Yumichika fashion, he had outmaneuvered her into feeling something totally unexpected: curious.

"Who is it?"

A wistful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"I keep their image with me always. Would you perchance like to see?"

His anxious audience raised her head and nodded vigorously; apparently all traces of melancholia had vanished. Ayasegawa chuckled at her childish eagerness, and reached into his tunic to produce a rounded frame which he gazed at fondly before passing it over to her.

Rukia was surprised at how excited she felt. Here at last was the answer to an enduring and stomach-clenching mystery: which way did Yumichika Ayasegawa swing? It took all her self-control to keep from snatching it out of his hands.

When she did finally look upon the visage housed within, it was to find her own reflection gazing hungrily back.

A mirror.

The noblewoman turned a sardonic look back upon her trainer. Then she again wrapped her arms around her knees and plopped her head down in them. An occasional shiver made her shoulders quake. Yumichika peered over amiably. "Are you quite all right, Kuchiki-chan?"

Her only response was to energetically wave an affirmative arm. Then she once more pillowed her face in it and seemed almost to vibrate with suppressed emotion, though whether from laughter, tears, or a combination of both was not evident.

I needed this.

Almost eighteen months ago, there had come a time in her life when it seemed like nothing could ever make her smile again. Without warning, the truth of their existence as warring entities had been driven home. Kaien Shiba's wife had been butchered in an unclean manner, and the grief-stricken husband had pursued the beast responsible with only Rukia and Captain Ukitake to back him. She had then been party to the greatest tragedy in her life.

When the possessed lieutenant of her division lunged for her throat, the young woman had actually heard her sword pierce his chest and heart. Shiba died gratefully in her arms, thanking her for having spitted him. Rukia had prayed for this to be some awful dream. But the real nightmares came afterwards, when she tossed and turned on her mattress, hearing that hideous sound once again, repeated over and over. Only sometimes, the man didn't die. He came crawling along the shaft, spitting blood and obscene promises about what he intended to do when he reached her. And all she could do was stand there, praying that the blade would grow longer just to keep the demonic figure away from her. But in the end, he always reached the hilt, and she awoke screaming.

She had held together long enough to return her mentor's remains to his family. But when faced with their accusing glares, her resolve had broken, and she left them to their grief without trying to explain. Once back in her sparsely furnished rooms at the Kuchiki palace, Rukia collapsed, sprawling in misery and desolation. Mercifully, her brother did not object. Most likely he never even noticed her presence. Bereft of hope, the young woman could not even bring herself to leave the room, much less attend to her division. Ukitake sent a message granting her time off. It was kindly intended, but served only as another reminder of how useless she really was.

It took over a week for Rukia to muster any interest in her life. This was helped along by the entire manor being turned out of doors in order to conduct some sort of residential purification ceremony that lasted more than a fortnight. The former slum-dweller had never heard of such a thing, but the long and short of it was that she had no place to live, strangely enough. Arrangements were made for all the servants and staff to bed down with their families, but when it came to the actual royal family, it was decided by her brother that he would be bivouacking in his quarters at the 6th division grounds. With this example clearly being set, his adopted sister did not have to be told that she must do the same in regards to her unit.

She had assumed it would be strange now that the Second and Third seats were vacant, and the First seat himself frequently absent for health reasons. And indeed, there was a pervasive sense that the Thirteenth was rudderless. But this hardly impressed itself on the Kuchiki princess. Because on the third day of her return, a knock came at her door.

Proper even in the depths of bereavement, Rukia answered, to be greeted by Yumichika Ayasegawa of the Eleventh.

"Lovely miss, won't you come play with me?"

She was still on leave. But he was a superior officer. And she could think of no excuse better than, 'I don't feel like it.' So it was that later on that day, the downtrodden damsel found herself hiking at shunpō speeds across the craggy bluffs of the Rukongai, darting through a spiritual paradise that claimed to harbor neither hunger nor want.

At some point, her guide vanished from sight, and she had to work to find him. When she did, it was to see him standing with blade bared.

"Sir?" Rukia asked.

And Ayasegawa grinned. "Fight with me."

She gazed at him dismally, feeling absolutely no interest in this, and was just about to explain so, when...

Fuji Kujaku swung, and instinct brought Sode no Shirayuki from its sheathe to meet it. Steel spirits screeched against one another, but in the instant they seemed to be engaged in a contest of strength, Yumichika planted his foot in her stomach.

Rukia flew backwards. Her sandals scraped along the stone, fingers tearing at it for purchase. She came to a halt, and crouched unmoving.

"You…"

The knuckles on her sword-hand went white.

"_BASTARD!"_

She dashed forward moving fast fast fast, sword extended, teeth clenched. No guilt or shame right now. Kaien-dono, her disgrace, none of that mattered anymore. The only thing Rukia remembered was being tormented in the streets of Inuzuri. Beaten and humiliated by packs of other kids, listening to them insult her and call her names. Oftentimes she could escape, but occasionally there was nothing you could do but curl up into a ball and take their abuse. Let them have their fun until they grew tired and moved off to find other helpless prey. And the hatred felt for those mindless animals awoke in her heart.

I'm not a child! I'm not going to submit to your crap anymore! Think you can hurt me and get away with it now? DAMN YOU! TAKE THIS!

The raging death god fell upon her attacker. Her sword carved through the air, aiming for his neck, his head. He was taller than her, and armed just the same. The other sword always managed to interpose just before she could see his blood. Rukia shouted in loathing, and aimed now for his legs. The black-clad figure danced away this time, and she pressed her attack, putting him on the defensive. Top and bottom, darting off to the side, keep him turning to answer the blows from different angles. In the back of her mind she knew that it wouldn't do to allow him to gain the upper hand.

Cut him down, hurt him, let him feel what happens when you come after me! You smirking, squinty-eyed pervert, _don't you ever touch me_, _do you hear? Don't you ever put your hands on me again or I'll KILL YOU!_

He went down on one knee, and Rukia was screaming, raining blows heedlessly upon the defending blade, trying with all her might to cut past it and slice through the body beneath.

I want to see his blood! I want them all to stop laughing at me and treating me like a weakling! And they will when I kick your grinning head down the corridors, _see who's smiling then, huh?_

In between one blow and the next, his sword disappeared, and hers came crashing down.

She felt something giving way beneath the edge, and blood spurted out. His forearm. He caught it on his forearm, the one with the leather sleeve-shield. It was all colors now, orange and red with the mirrored steel, and Rukia stared, entranced.

Then his fingers dipped into the rivulets of crimson and darted out, smearing parallel lines across her cheek.

A yelp of surprise, and the zanpakutō fell from her hands.

She reached up to touch the sticky wetness, trembling. When Rukia saw it on her fingertips, suddenly everything came flooding back. Who she was, why she was here and with whom, and what made sense.

It caused her legs to give way, and she plopped down hard, gasping and panting, completely at a loss.

It was Yumichika before her. He wasn't doing anything. Just sitting there watching her thoughtfully. Cool, calm, and collected. Everything I'm not right now.

He was bleeding still.

Oh… no.

No no no, I didn't mean to, it wasn't you I was fighting, I…

_Do something._

She obeyed the command. Placing her hands on his upraised forearm, she summoned a ministering enchantment. Everything Rukia had went into that charm. All her will was focused on stopping the bleeding, closing the wound, repairing the damage she had done. It's not impossible, she told herself. I can fix this, I know I can, and then I'll apologize and maybe he'll forgive me. Maybe. Maybe I can forgive myself, even.

He's not dead. When someone forgives you, then you can forgive yourself. The only ones who can't do that are the dead ones. They alone cannot offer salvation.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, and she felt tears sliding over her lips.

Ayasegawa withdrew his arm, and flexed the fingers to test them. The wound had disappeared in a matter of seconds. He gave an approving nod, before turning his attention back to the shrinking little soul before him.

"You're a very adept healer, Rukia-chan."

Finally she met his eyes. About time. For a moment there it looked like his efforts had been wasted. The girl had almost slipped away again, lost in whatever world of guilt and recrimination she had conjured. Well, she was an aristocrat, after all. Maybe now talking would serve to break the ice.

"That was also an impressive swing at the end, there. This armor of mine has taken the claws and fangs of Hollows without any of them serving to blemish my skin, but you went through it like it wasn't even there. The Kuchiki certainly do produce exceptional warriors, don't they?"

"A…" she hesitated, and seemed to consciously join the conversation. "I'm adopted."

"Oh," he mused. "I'm an orphan, myself. From the 80th ring of the Rukongai. Whereabouts do you hail from?"

The lavender eyes blinked. "Inuzuri."

"The 78th!" Ayasegawa grinned, and leaned in close to her. "Why, that means we're practically cousins! You know, both of those numbers contain a digit that is written quite elegantly. A beautiful pairing. That settles it, Rukia-chan, you and I are bound by the bonds of beauty." He withdrew a bamboo flask from his robes, popped the lid and took a swig. "Let's drink to our ravishing heaven-sent good looks!"

Kuchiki didn't accept his offer, only stared uncomprehendingly. He shrugged, taking no offense, and took another sip himself, swishing the water around in his mouth.

Then she looked about, taking in the low-growing trees, pebbled stream and rocky plains bearing off to the west.

What in the world am I doing?

_You're awake again. I'm glad._

I was asleep?

_To me you were. I couldn't find you. Or perhaps best to say, you couldn't find yourself._

The snow was falling all around her once more, and Rukia moved through the steps of the dance alongside Sode no Shirayuki. At one point she looked down, and saw a splotch of blood on the draping silken sleeve. A shudder went through her.

_Don't be afraid. There was a lot more just a moment ago. I was hoping it would all go away, but that little bit remained. Perhaps you haven't quite forgiven us both yet. _

"Forgiven who?" she asked as they continued to waltz through their solitary home.

_Me. For killing Kaien Shiba. And you, for wielding me._

The spirit sounded hurt somehow, and the guilt she had felt was quickly subsumed by shame. Only now did it occur to Rukia that someone else might be suffering in silence right along with her, burdened by the pain of that night and all that it entailed for them. Their hands touched and raised over their heads, and for a moment the spirit and her lady stood face to face. Tears glimmered in her eyes, and similar drops fell below the samite hood that still concealed her partner's features.

"I am so sorry for putting you through this. Can you forgive me?" the master of this realm apologized.

One shrouded hand disengaged from her own, and moved to touch Rukia's cheek.

_I'd much rather you forgive yourself._

Hesitation and uncertainty marred her brow, and then they flowed off again, continuing to sway and glide beneath the great shining moon.

_All right then._ _We both know how stubborn you can be. One day you'll have a reason to make peace with yourself. Maybe you'll find it by being a shinigami. You aren't quitting, right?_

Rukia considered this as she danced. "No. I won't quit. Maybe my reasons for becoming a shinigami were selfish, but now that I am one, I know I can't stop. I've seen the reason why death gods exist now. There are monsters in the world, and we're the ones who must strive to stop them."

_Or save them._ _This snow you see around you_, and she indicated the terrain,_ its purity is a reflection of what we have to offer. My touch can absolve souls of the things that bind them, their grief and solitude, jealousy and hatred. It's in my power to bestow this gift upon the lost, so long as you wield me. Every zanpakutō has that ability. That's what makes a shinigami different from other souls. We are the potential for forgiveness. Don't lose sight of that._

"Forgiveness?" That was certainly an interesting thought. Come to think of it, no one had ever really explained to her _how_ those with soul power differed from the vast majority of their fellow helpless spirits. What was it that set them apart? Could it truly be something like this, a capacity for mercy towards all, even the Hollows? Was this the purpose for which Soul Society was established in the first place?

Wasn't that the reason they were all here?

"_You remember that, Rukia Kuchiki. You division hang-ons are all just ornaments…!"_

The memory made her shiver.

"_Y'know, Rukia-chan…?"_

Please… please stop touching me…

"Rukia-chan…?"

What?

Someone was shaking her shoulder gently. With a start, she found herself once more looking into the concerned face of Yumichika Ayasegawa. When her eyes focused on him, he leaned back with a sigh.

"You disappeared on me for a while there, Kuchiki-chan. I thought you might have slipped into a coma. That would have been very inconsiderate, you know. How would I have explained that to everyone, I ask you? It would not have been pleasant for me."

She looked down at her hands. They were empty. Glancing over, Rukia saw Sode no Shirayuki resting a yard away. She got to her feet, then, and made her way over to where her partner lay. Picking it up, the fair-skinned shinigami studied her soul cutter appraisingly, checking to make sure it was not damaged by her reckless behavior. A reflection of her own eyes came back in its length, and she stared long and hard at herself.

That is me, Rukia thought. I failed someone I cared for, but I won't run away again. I'll find a way to be worthy of this power that I have been entrusted with. I can do better next time. I am a warrior-priest of the Seireitei. My service is to grant absolution to the fallen, and my charge is to fight against the barbarians at the gates of paradise. I'm a god of death, and I will make the world benefit from my being in it.

_Where shall we begin?_

Right here.

So resolved, Rukia turned about and regarded the engaging enigma studying her out of his feather-trimmed eyes. She then sheathed her sword, and gave him a bow.

"Fifth seat of Squad Eleven, Yumichika Ayasegawa," the petite psychopomp spoke formally. "Would you be so kind as to demonstrate once more the fighting style you used to best me earlier, sensei?"

Her weirdly-beautiful associate beamed, looking positively radiant.

"I'd love to play the instructor!" He hopped to his feet, retrieving his own zanpakutō and assuming a fighting stance. "First rule is, don't call me sensei. It makes me feel old. Now draw your sword, Kuchiki Rukia, and I'll teach you how to fight without it!"

That was how their collaboration began.

The gardenias had bloomed, wilted, and bloomed again in the time that they had spent together. Yumichika was as good as his word. He pointed out to his student that since she had already developed a method of sword-fighting that could be called her own, it would not be advantageous to ask her to learn an entirely new one. Instead, the seated officer declared that while soul cutters were marvelously powerful and elegant weapons, at some point in her duties she might find herself deprived of this tool, and forced to fight on her own. That was where experience in hand-to-hand combat might save your life.

Rukia readily agreed to learn this method of fighting, which had not been included in the rigors of Kuchiki discipline or Kaien Shiba's personal tutoring. Ironically, Kaien's last fight had required him to engage his opponent unarmed, having lost his zanpakutō to that horror's hidden abilities. Had it not been so, the outcome might have been quite different. All the same, she knew for a fact that her life might one day hinge on her ability to do battle barehanded. So it was that the tiny aristocrat learned to appreciate her hands and feet, even elbows and knees, as potential weapons. It was like being back in the streets of Inuzuri, when those were all you had to rely upon. Clearly Yumichika had grown up under similar conditions, and had developed this combat style before acquiring full death god powers, blending the two together at his whim now.

It was frustrating, and difficult. Oftentimes painful. But if you rammed your knee into your adversary's chin when he least expected it, that gave you more time to incant a full kidō spell, which made more sense than just repeating the words off and hoping he didn't disrupt your recitation before it was complete. Being quite adept at demon magic herself, Rukia came to appreciate the tactical advantage this afforded her. Her tutor also commended her on the willingness to adapt previously learned methods to new experiences.

Never once did she ask Yumichika why he had first approached her. Considering what she knew about him, it wasn't hard to guess who was behind this. Not that he would ever admit to it.

Thank you, Renji.

Sitting in the floral landscape of the present day, Rukia offered the mirror back to its owner, but he waved it away. "Keep it, most beautiful one. It will be as graced by your visage as my own. And you never know when it might come in handy." As she tucked the treasure into her robes, Ayasegawa cast a sidelong look at his pupil. "You know, my battling butterfly, the trials for lieutenant will be coming up in just over a month. Have you considered asking your captain to sponsor your name in the lists?"

The suggestion made Rukia gape at him in shock.

"I couldn't possibly be a lieutenant! I'm not even a seated officer." She plopped her chin in her hands and gazed wistfully off into the distance. "And besides, it just wouldn't be right. I am unfit to occupy that position. It would be an insult to the spirit of the man who did it such justice before."

He shrugged negligently. "Seems a waste to me."

Rukia stirred then, and gave him an appraising look. "Why hasn't Ayasegawa-san become a lieutenant by now? You're certainly powerful enough, even if your kidō is no better than that of a child."

The barb served to elicit a delightful laugh from its target. "Ah, you verbose magicians can be so prickly towards us headstrong fighters!" He shook his head. "No, my dear Kuchiki-chan, I have no interest in serving under another captain. Why, all my friends are in the Eleventh division! With a few notable exceptions, of course. And besides, another man from my squad already transferred over to one of the vacant units in the hopes of landing a comfy Second seat. I wouldn't want anyone to call me a copycat. That's much too ugly a term to flaunt in the face of my unparalleled splendor. I'd have to kill any man who said it. And that could raise eyebrows."

He waggled the feathers in those selfsame instruments. She couldn't suppress a grin at his delightful megalomania. Whatever the future held in store for her, at the very least one thing was certain. She would never meet anyone more inscrutably arrogant than this. He made her brother look modest by comparison.

And she knew full well how impossible it was to best Byakuya Kuchiki at anything.

* * *

Byakuya's eyes scanned the images on the screen before him. Right now, they were just sitting together, chatting amiably about tactics and harmless gossip. Well and good. When the battle-monger had mentioned the upcoming preliminaries, he had clenched his fist in frustration. Two captains under his thumb, one of them an original member of their order, an army of reconnaissance agents, the fortune of the most powerful clan in Seireitei at his disposal, and all that might be rendered moot by the careless ramblings of an adrenaline-crazed masochist.

When the Kenpachi's Fifth seat had first approached his sister outside of their duties, it had been a blessing. A small subterfuge had prompted her to return to the Thirteenth division, but from there she had displayed no interest whatsoever in resuming her duties. The lord of the Kuchiki was at a loss. Rukia's grief had torn at his serenity, reminding him daily that she was crumbling under the weight of others' selfishness. Damn that Kaien Shiba, inflicting that sort of trauma on her! And damn Ukitake as well, the man clearly did not understand what it meant to sell his soul. When you place yourself in someone's service, with the express request that their sister be excluded from the perils of an officer's affairs, it doesn't work to develop selective amnesia and drag her along on a suicide mission! Jūshirō had answered Byakuya's summons, and his regret for the maiden's concern was not feigned. But the loss he had suffered apparently strengthened his resolve, and he had actually argued with his benefactor, stating that he ordered Rukia to withdraw but she returned of her own accord when his condition manifested to debilitate him. Were it not for her, they might all have died there.

Cognizant of how mourning could destroy a person on many levels, he had let it go at that, allowing for a simple leave of absence to suffice at laying the other captain's guilt to rest. Officially. Unofficially, a certain level of resentment lingered.

When the man Ayasegawa entered the picture, the report of activity did indeed serve to raise his hopes initially. Of course, when he saw the footage of Rukia being kicked in the stomach, he had been forced to pause it while he considered all the ways he had available for ending the feathered popinjay's life. Fortunately, Byakuya was a very thorough man, and he had resolved to watch the remainder of the movie before deciding on his final judgment. Seeing his adopted sibling charging forth with fire in her eyes had left him awestruck at the abrupt departure of her dwindling spirits. There was something there that spoke more strongly than grief.

For the first time in his life, the astonished aristocrat found himself looking at Rukia Kuchiki as a shinigami.

A warrior, in form and bearing. For all that he was aware of her abilities, having it demonstrated in such an explosive manner left him absurdly grateful that he had acted to withhold her name from consideration as an officer. One look at this face would have drawn the interest of any captain in need. He paused the display several times, lost in the sight of little Rukia bringing an older and more experienced fighter to his knees. For once, one of Mayuri Kurotsuchi's inventions proved of great benefit. Although he sometimes wondered if the crazed captain was capable of fashioning anything that did not look as though it had been brutally tortured and gutted before being put to its current service. The video screen appeared capable of getting up and crawling away if he turned his back on it.

The training that followed was closely monitored by the Kuchiki web of information gatherers. While Yumichika was nowhere near as gentle in his instructions as Kaien had been, his student did not ever falter. She proved, through sword and spell, that she was no fragile porcelain shell of a fighter. And Rukia was not the only one to sustain injuries in their regular clashes. At one point, a particularly potent blast of magic set her sensei's hair ablaze, and after the initial fit of unmanly shrieking had subsided, a shot of ice and a wig pulled from his clothing had allowed the session to resume with only some singed egos in evidence.

Over the course of a year, Byakuya watched his sister blossom into her own.

_Your forces will feel the loss of that one for a lieutenant._

Let them bemoan all they want. My wishes take priority.

_An ungracious sentiment. Your own men are still missing a commanding officer._

Agreed. But I have oaths to keep.

_More than one. It is part of my duties to remind you of them, even when you strive to overlook any that might contradict one another._

Your efforts are noted, but I am not yet done being 'ungracious', as you put it.

Swordsmanship. Unarmed combat. That left Demon Magic and Shunpō.

The solitary noble reflected on his situation. It could be that Ukitake's condition left him ill-suited to properly safeguard Byakuya's only remaining link to his wife, or indeed see to her training. He had noted the remaining candidates in the Thirteenth, and been less than impressed with their qualities. Something told him that division would remain short a lieutenant even after next month.

Well, that being the case, there was another person who had expressed a vow to obey the captain of Squad Six in anything he should so require.

That favor was about to be called in.

_To be continued…_


	7. The Trials: Celebrating the Deceased

"And this is where we bathe those afflicted with lesions, bedsores, and other ailments that might result from too much time confined to their cots."

Isane gestured, and Nemu Kurotsuchi followed the movement with her eyes.

She nodded, and then stood unmoving once more.

No interest. No questions. Just that blank, soulless, vapid look.

The gentle giant glanced guiltily about, striving to find something of interest to attract her charge's attention. What am I going to do? I've shown her everything from the mortuary to prenatal care! She's not taking anything out of this! If I go back to the captains and tell them we saw the whole division headquarters in under two hours, Mayuri might use me for an experiment, and Unohana might… _look_ at me! That way she does! No No NO, ANYthing but that!

Beside her, the source of this consternation made no move. Since leaving the 12th Division grounds, Nemu had not spoken one word. She was dressed in regular death god attire that Isane had managed to scrounge up, but something told the lieutenant that the animated doll would have been perfectly content to walk around Soul Society in the buff. Her face betrayed no hint of emotion. It remained as beautiful and as dead as when Mayuri had put her on exhibition. The straight purple hair fell down to her back, and eyes that might have been pulled out of a dead man's skull took in everything she was shown without the slightest hint of warmth, anger, or even life. Nothing seemed to elicit a meaningful response.

So what was a head of the most overworked and underappreciated company in the land of the dead to do?

Suddenly, her deep brown eyes alighted on something of note. Ah-HA!

"Over here is the collection of medicinal herbs and implements that serve to aid us in our efforts to foster recovery."

Cold green orbs, like jade, suddenly broke away and fastened upon the pharmaceutical tools of their trade. Was that a flicker of professional interest she spied in their depths? Merciful heavens, at last!

As the eerily unresponsive female moved to examine the stock room, Lieutenant Kotetsu breathed a small sigh of relief. Asking her to handle this newborn's introduction into society would not have been a good idea under normal circumstances. Isane had more than enough experience in running a division, issuing orders and even engaging in combat. The problem lay in the fact that she remained dreadfully uncomfortable when being asked to handle anything resembling public speaking, even if her audience only consisted of one person.

Over two dozen low-ranked members of her order were bustling about them, intent upon their work and not what was transpiring between their Second seat and the newcomer. Professionalism and devotion were two of the hallmarks of the Fourth, and now more than ever she was glad that this was the case. Her sister Kiyone was the outspoken one, able to fill any conversational gap and bear the direct attention of a horde of expectant strangers. Maybe the difference lay in their priorities. The younger Kotetsu sister was tasked with leading successful military operations. Her elder came in when things went wrong on these expeditions. It was Isane's responsibility to take a bad situation and keep it from getting any worse. And while hundreds of thousands of souls owed their continued existence to her leadership and personal efforts, whenever she failed, there was no other division waiting to pick up the slack.

Only death, hovering over her shoulder, ready to snatch up its prize should the healer's attention lapse even for a moment.

What was the point of bringing souls to a new world, if you only condemned them to suffer and die just like in the old? Was there no salvation? Was there no… _rest?_ At times she thought her entire existence in the afterlife had been one long nightmare that made her own nocturnal fits pale in comparison. And she showed no sign of ever waking from this litany of torn flesh, blood, and dead staring eyes that went back longer than most could recall. How they chilled her, all those horrible lifeless orbs.

And then they blinked.

Isane started, drawn out of her reverie by the sight of Nemu's face staring up into her own.

Despite being a good head taller than her companion, the colossal vice-captain froze, panicking. What does she want, this strange, menacing figure whom she was supposed to be helping to learn about a leader's duties? If ever there was a time Isane actually wished for a bloody tragedy to occur and call her away, it was now.

Mayuri's daughter continued to gaze blankly at her host. The silver-haired shinigami felt her lips had gone dry. She wanted to lick them, but for all she knew this bizarre girl might take that as an invitation to kiss her! Nemu's social instincts derived from Mayuri the Madman, after all. Kotetsu had been unwilling to let the manufactured soul out of her sight, for fear that she might turn around to find her doing something unspeakable to a hapless bystander. As it was, things were now looking grim for herself.

In a faint, shaky voice, Isane mumbled, "Y-yes?"

Nemu stared.

The downturned lips parted slightly, and a soft voice said, "Your stocks are running low."

They were still standing very close to each other. She glanced around quickly to see if anyone was watching them. "Ah… and?"

"How will you punish those responsible?"

If she would only stop staring at me, I might…

What?

"Punish them?" the lieutenant spoke incredulously. She could feel her face turning red. Was this some kind of a sick joke?

That brought a nod from Nemu. "If the stocks are depleted, then Mayuri-sama might run the risk of not having enough on hand for his needs. It is not proper that he concern himself with such matters, so those responsible must be taught a lesson."

A small frown creased Isane's brow. "This is something Captain Kurotsuchi taught you?"

Nod again. That figures.

"Yes, um… Nemu-san, in our division, we don't punish people for something like that. The purpose of Squad Four is basically to act to prevent injuries. It's our credo. And among the officers of the 13 Imperial Guard, we lead by example, so that others beneath us might know how to behave."

Was that an expression trying to work its way across the deadpan features?

"Mayuri-sama ordered it."

The idea of that lunatic having a say in anything occurring in her division made Isane bristle. "We do not obey the example of Captain Kurotsuchi in the Fourth." That definitely needed to be made perfectly clear.

The flat green eyes had widened somewhat.

"He is… our creator. We must obey him."

The silver-haired surgeon's shoulders actually slumped. Had she just been lumped together with one of Mayuri Kurotsuchi's science projects? Oh my goodness, was it really this bad?

"Nemu-san, I was not… created… in the same way you were, and certainly not by the same person."

That apparently came as a revelation to her student, who now regarded Isane Kotetsu in a marveling manner. Several of the milling squad members were having a hard time not staring at the mismatched pair now.

Had Isane mentioned how much she dreaded being the center of attention?

"I'm sorry, what I meant to s…"

"How were you created?"

Now there was a question that held all kinds of unpleasant implications. And it really ought to be coming from a small child, not an obviously full-grown woman. This wasn't to imply that she would have been any less distressed at having such a query put to her, not by children, gammy elders, or members of her own family. When you are self-conscious, only abusive people sought to ask you something like that in public. The one thing that could make this any more embarrassing was to have someone like the Eighth division captain come frolicking in here throwing rosebuds in his wake and offering his charms to any available ladies of the heterosexual persuasion.

That had actually happened once.

But no. Back to my duties. Think about it a little. Nemu is a child in some respects. Not physically, no, definitely not after what I saw earlier today. Let's not dwell on the obvious here. She's clearly been forced to swallow some pretty disturbing ideas (and heaven only knows what else). So maybe I should try and gently coax her into an understanding of a more traditional relationship.

The polite and self-effacing members of her staff continued to busy themselves without giving any undue attention to the conversation being conducted in their presence. At least I can be grateful for the appearance of nonchalance. I'd better get this over with as quickly as possible so we can move on to something less explosive.

"Nemu-san, I come from a family. I have a mother and father who bore me together, and a sister from the same line."

"Mayuri-sama is my father," Nemu responded unnecessarily.

This is hard enough without having to think about _that_. Could you please not do it?

"Yes, I know, and…"

"Does this mean that Unohana Retsu is my mother?"

Very suddenly everyone who had been pretending to be involved in something else stopped pretending and moved to stand around them in a circle. The room had gone completely quiet. You could hear the floorboards shifting, along with birds singing outside and people engaged in conversations across the yard.

And, if you listened very carefully, you could actually hear the blood draining out of Isane Kotetsu's face.

Trembling, she looked around in wide-eyed desperation at the mob of hungry vultures perched to feast upon their rumor-mongering.

_Isane?_

Yes?

_Use your influence. Defuse this situation before it gets out of hand._

Right.

So resolved, the towering death god took a deep breath and said in a loud, clear voice, "Captain Kurotsuchi and Captain Unohana are _not sleeping together!_"

At once, all other people in the area besides Nemu turned and sped from the room.

A few papers fluttered to the ground, and then the silence was total.

In the midst of that barren emptiness, the two women stood still as statues.

_I am going to run and hide now. Wake me when it's all over._

Her spiritual ally then made itself inconspicuous.

After a while, Isane put her face in her hands.

"Isane-fukutaichou, are you feeling unwell?"

Shake of the head. Face still concealed. Nothing more.

She remained that way for several seconds.

Every now and then, the shoulders heaved as a long, shivering breath was taken.

Then at last, Lieutenant Kotetsu let her hands drop.

There were tears running down the most profoundly miserable face anyone could ever wear. And when she looked at the impassive entity still hovering before her, the aggrieved Amazonian began to sob.

Uncontrollable wails beset her, and she slumped to her knees, eyes closed, howling like a lost child. "U-Unohana… sammaaaaaaa… sh-she's going to k-k-k-k-KILL ME when she hears about this!"

Observing this display without concern, Nemu spoke. "Isane-san said earlier that you do not punish people for mistakes in your division."

"THIS ISN'T A MISTAKE!" the other woman shrieked between bawls. "THIS IS A C-C-CATASTROPHE! WHEN WORD GETS AROUND ABOUT THIS, I'M AS GOOD AS DEAD!"

It was all over. Once word of this reached Kiyone's ears, you could bet all of Soul Society would be talking about it before dinnertime. And once that happened, the call would come, and she would march herself slowly down the hall toward the Captain's chambers, there to be summarily dispatched and cleaned up in a punctilious manner that would leave absolutely no trace of her existence. It could be done. Unohana was not nearly as pleasant and kind-hearted as she appeared. Isane remembered how one time…

In the next instant, she felt herself being lifted up off the floor.

_Completely_ off the floor.

When she got her bearings, it was to find her two-meter frame being draped casually and effortlessly over Nemu Kurotsuchi's petite shoulder.

The sight would have been the end of her career, if anyone were there to see it.

Before Isane could articulate anything resembling speech or an objection to this situation, there was a loud SMACK.

Then another. SMACK.

And a third.

By the time the vice-captain of the Fourth division of the Gotei 13 realized that she was being spanked, it was already over, and she was placed back on her feet.

Isane looked down at her imperturbable associate with eyes as big as donburi bowls. Her mouth was so wide, any passing lion tamers would have had no trouble fitting their heads in. And although she could in no way find the ability to speak at this time, apparently for once Nemu knew exactly what she was trying to say.

"When infants cry, it is generally acceptable to pat them on the backside."

One silver eyebrow twitched in time to a muscle in the tall maiden's eyelid. At last, she managed to faintly impart, "Back. Not backside. You pat them on the back."

"Thank you for correcting me, Isane-fukutaichou," the lugubrious life-form bowed. "I am ready to begin when you are."

Isane shook her head in an attempt to clear it. "Begin? Begin what?"

"The chase." Nemu turned her head and gazed intently out the window. "All twenty-eight witnesses to your mistake are still well within reach. If the two of us work together, we can round them up before they have a chance to disseminate the unwanted information. It is well within our parameters and capabilities. In this way, Unohana-sama will not know of what transpired. You will not have to die then."

Very casual, serene, and completely unprecedented. Stop a rumor before it began? Living with her sister as she had, the mere thought had always seemed foolishly implausible to Isane. The rumor mill could not be denied. But somehow, when she heard it now, there didn't seem like anything that could be more sensible in the whole world.

But wait. One thing she had to know first.

"Nemu-san, why are you offering to help me like this?"

Those mysterious emerald eyes flicked over to regard her.

"I am the one who is punished. I accept injury without question. That is not how it goes in your division. Things are different here. We each lead by example. That is what Nee-san has taught me."

Hearing this, a strange feeling of pride blossomed in the healer's heart. She actually got it! She listened to me and understood!

As Isane stood there in speechless delight, Kurotsuchi reached down and casually ripped the legs off the taller girl's pants, baring her legs.

Lieutenant Kotetsu gagged.

Standing up, Nemu proceeded to tear the sleeves off her counterpart's kimono. The purple-haired pacifist then did the same with her own attire. Now unencumbered, she swiveled her arms and legs, as though limbering up for a marathon, and glanced over at her partner.

"This allows us to move more freely. Mayuri-sama designed it so. I will proceed with the operation now."

There was a swish of shunpō, and the girl was gone.

A few befuddled seconds later, Isane followed suit.

* * *

Panting, the harried aid worker tore around a corner and drew to a halt.

Before him the lane ended in an anonymous blank wall.

"Son of a…!" he swore. "Who the hell… designed this place… with so many _intentional dead ends?_"

The information he held was sure to garner him a rich reward from the Mistress of Whispers. It had to make it to her ears! He was just about to retrace his steps, when there came a rush of movement from behind. Turning, he caught a glimpse of dragon-green eyes and flashing silver hair.

An attack converged between the two.

"_MISTRESS! FORGIVE MEEEEEEE!"_ he proclaimed with a mighty cry, and then fell before the strength of their combined assault.

Somewhere far away, Kiyone Kotetsu felt her ears prick. Usually this meant there was gossip to be had. But a second later the feeling died away. When it did, she dismissed it as nothing, and merrily went back to making her captain his extra-strength tea.

Isane knelt at her sprawled underling's side. He was breathing, and appeared no worse for wear. She regained her full height, wiping the perspiration from her brow with a sigh. "And that's twenty-eight."

Nemu bent down and hoisted the limp form over her shoulder. No spankings took place this time. "I will bear him back to where we incarcerated the others."

A grateful smile worked its way onto the older shinigami's face. "Thank you, Nemu-san. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here."

"You say that there is a way to cloud their memories without resorting to exploratory surgery," the burdened beauty spoke as they made their way back towards the division offices.

"Yes," Isane smiled. "It's called alcohol."

Nemu seemed to consider this. "Mayuri-sama says you should only use alcohol when you do not wish the subject to develop life-threatening infections."

Her accomplice brushed a hand through her shaggy metallic hair. This was a matter of life and death. She would live with the guilt of forcing twenty-eight of her associates to get smashed later. "Well, Unohana-taichou says drinking is an acceptable means of forgetting what you do not want to remember. If done in moderation."

"Does Unohana-sama drink to forget?"

Scary how perceptive she could be. "No. But she knows kidō-mixed drinks like nobody's business. She'll teach you, if you ask her."

The newborn gazed steadily straight ahead of her.

"I would be honored to learn from my mother."

Isane flinched. "Nemu-san, about that…"

* * *

Renji Abarai tossed back a drink, let out a loud whoop, and smashed his glass back onto the table. Doing so precipitated some hostile glares from the officious-looking members of the Tenth hosting this event, but he blithely ignored them. "Buncha snobs," he muttered, though not loud enough to be heard.

The other members of his company were making their way down the line of mourners. As Eighth seat of Squad Six, Renji would not have been required to put in an appearance to one of these things under normal circumstances. Usually it would only be the Second and Third coming to pay their respects, and even the First if Captain felt obliging. But since his division remained one lieutenant and a few officers short, according to the proper and prim laws of the Seireitei, it fell to him to shoulder the burden of officially expressing remorse for the passing of Kenta Arakaki, vice-captain of Squad Ten.

Unfortunately for Abarai, this was nothing like the wakes he had attended in his youth. Those had been simple, hasty, free-reigned affairs which required nothing more than some company, a bonfire, and whatever food they could steal. All involved had commemorated and recollected, mourned and celebrated the passing of a friend. Those gatherings had grown smaller with the passage of time, until it was just him and Rukia.

Right now, though, Renji would have traded his zanpakutō for anything resembling a familiar smiling face. Or any smile, for that matter.

Leaning back against the wall, he frowned at the pervasive scent of incense that hung heavy in the dimly lit room. The services were being held in the rented dining hall of a high-quality inn that rested just outside the Northern Gate, a district that had been the deceased's home once. On a stage in the center of the cleared first floor lay a bier and coffin that housed the remains of their departed comrade. Many people crowded the room or gazed down from the tiers that ringed it, moving to and fro along the staircases that connected this level with the ones higher up, conversing quietly among themselves while they sampled the fare.

The suites along those walkways had all been rented for this evening's festivities as well, not so much to provide anyone with a place to spend the night, but more to insure that no ignorant residents of this district come wandering in to disrupt the display of mourning. Such an expense was well within the budget of a shinigami division, and some of the more penurious squads might have simply used their clout to inhabit the inn free of charge. It was not as though the owners could have turned down such a request. One had to afford the protectors their due. But the Tenth was well known for graciousness. And so a more than acceptable payment had been made. Couldn't have any ill spirits on a night like this.

Of course, if that were the case, then why the hell was everybody behaving so damn gloomy? This had to be the most depressing excuse for a memorial Renji had ever witnessed. If anyone spoke, it was in low, hushed voices. The food and drink was all high quality, but there was no music, not even a lone musician playing the shamisen. Certainly some of the grief had been tempered in the intervening weeks while the Twelfth conducted the autopsy, but for mercy's sake, wasn't anyone going to break into song? There's only supposed to be one corpse in the room, people!

"Geez, you'd think a captain was present or something," he muttered, a little too loudly, and the couple sitting next to him stood up and left. The red-headed ruffian watched them go with disdain. Yeah, go on, walk away! Not like I was being regaled by your charming company anyway!

_This is a morbid affair, brother. Why don't we go and…_

… _sample the more lively charms of this region? You haven't had any pleasurable company in ages!_

Zabimaru, how can you talk so polite and still be such a dog?

_How can you drink so much and not realize…_

…_that you're drunk?_

Bad enough when it was just one voice in my head, he thought, and stood up to refresh his drink and beat a hasty retreat out of this cemetery. Let the others think what they would, he was through playing the grieving mourner.

As Renji clambered to his feet and stumbled forward, something soft collided with his arm.

"Whoops, watch out there, Tall Tats!"

He then turned, to find himself confronted by the most ravishingly gorgeous woman he had ever met.

It was the disparity of her looks that really set her apart from the crowd. She had thick, honey-colored hair that was cut short around her shoulders, unlike the long dark brown or black tresses most women favored. On top of this, those huge joyful eyes staring up at him were blue! It was almost as if he had looked up at the sky and found it looking back, the shock was just the same. The bones of her face must have been designed by a sculptor, for they were absolutely perfect, without a single flaw to be seen, unless you counted the beauty mark on her otherwise unblemished complexion. Lush, tempting lips smiled an invitation at him. Was that a pink handkerchief wound around her neck? And mercy, was she tall too! Almost on eye level with him. But the part of her body that was impressing itself the most on him (literally) was her jaw-droppingly huge cleavage, which erupted out of the black uniform straining to hold them back and now gleefully wrapped around his bicep in the most soft, warm, erogenous embrace there could ever be.

She looked at him with such unhindered friendliness and sparkling elation that Renji knew she had to be even drunker than he was.

As if to emphasize this, the heaven-sent goddess of death waved a ceramic saké jug right below his nose.

"Move it or lose it, lover," she purred seductively. "I'm on a mission here."

Finding himself unable to deny her anything, he quickly scooted back a step. Then, at the inner prompting of his sword spirits, he managed to sketch an only slightly graceless bow, throwing out his arm in what he hoped was a gallant manner.

It seemed to work on her, because she cooed, "Awww, how sweet," and ruffled his spiky hair as she sauntered on by. Renji turned his head to see for himself… and yes, gods above and below, her butt looked just as round and solid as he could have hoped. Even through those baggy black hakama trousers, it shone as clearly as the sun.

When he came back to his feet, it was to watch while the single most erotic being to ever exist made her way through the silent throngs.

"Coming through, mourning the dead here, make way for me, ladies, I take up more space than you. In every direction, I might add!"

As she did so, Renji's sharp ears heard someone whisper, "Waste of space, she means," which was followed by a giggle.

Hey, what kinda crap is that?

As he looked around, intending to spot the source of that vile slur and exact justified retribution upon them, something managed to become clear to his alcohol-fogged brain. While many of the other divisions were regarding that bewitching woman with astonishment or interest, most of the Tenth afforded her only cool looks or outright hostility. That little Third seat of their division in particular, who had spent most of the evening crouched as close to her lieutenant's remains as possible and weeping softly, now responded to that loud presence with unadulterated loathing. Hey, Itty-Bitty, just because you're nowhere near as hot as her, doesn't mean you have to glare like she's to blame for it! Rukia never acted as pissy as you when her lieutenant died, and he was a really swell guy, from what I heard! Why don't you go back to looking all aggrieved and letting everybody know it, huh?

It was such a satisfying thought that he didn't realize he hadn't spoken it aloud.

The other woman now, the perfect angel, she was laughing and chatting with everyone she passed on her way back to the staircase. A few made polite comments, or even smiled, but the silent majority continued to regard her lively presence as some kind of grotesque abomination. Which was nuts, because anyone with eyes who looked at her could never think those two words could ever be attributed to someone so extraordinary.

Of a sudden, Renji knew he couldn't bear to be in this company any longer. There, right there, that was where he belonged. With her. The nameless beauty with the loving heart. _She_ knew how you were supposed to celebrate the passing of a loved one… or in this case, someone he had never met and knew practically nothing about. Yes, feet, take me there, before I lose sight of her. She's already up the stairs, come on, come on, take me out of this place, let me make merry with her, and together we will celebrate the life and death of our good sweet…

Uhhhh….

"Hey," Renji grabbed an inoffensive-looking member of the Fourth by the collar, "what was this bozo's name, again?"

The kid, who had been serving drinks, looked like he was going to kick it on the spot. "P-p-pardon, sir? M-my name is Hanatarō, and I would be pleased to serv…"

"Not you!" He gave him a shake to get his brain working properly. "The dead guy!"

That clearly helped. "F-fukutaichou Kenta Arakaki?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Thanks." He let go, and the little feller scurried off somewhere. Now that I know the name, I know how to break the ice. 'My darling, let us two stalwart gods of death raise our glasses in honor of Kentarou Ark-Khaki, and send him off with a round of song and drink!' Okay, here we go.

_This seems to be most interesting…_

…_and has a great potential for violence. Let us proceed!_

Wasting no more time, the inebriated officer shoved his way through the crowd until he reached his destination. He slipped twice going up the stairs, saké sloshing out of his cup. How had his buxom soul-mate managed to navigate this obstacle so effortlessly? It was all he could do not to fall flat on his face!

Finally Renji made it to the second floor, which was where she had gotten off. But which way? He concentrated, letting his senses reach out. Her reiatsu had been unusually high, he realized now, and that combined with the sweet scent that had lingered faintly with her passing let him know that his angel must have gone… this way!

He took off, and the dismal downcasts flew to get out of his way. I will let nothing bar my path! There's joy and wine and _life_ down this way! The rest of you all can just sit here and wait to become corpses yourself! I fought a fuckin' demoness straight out of hell. I looked Byakuya Kuchiki straight in the eye… almost. You think your paltry glares can do anything to me? Get serious!

The corridor was empty of anyone else, and quite dark. Renji placed a hand on the wall, letting it guide him forward. Where, heart, where do we go? Yes, this way, I can hear her now! That wondrous, musical laughter, how it calls to me! Wait for Tall Tats! Wait for lover boy!

There! Behind the flimsy painted shoji screens, he could pick out her luscious voice, so tantalizing! The sound was like a song, and it made his skin tingle, his spine shiver. Aflame with life and passion, Renji reached for the sliding door, and flinging it aside, he strode in.

"I'm Re…!"

That was as far as he got, because the room was empty.

When her voice continued to tantalize him, he realized that his phenomenal hearing had deceived him, and he had entered a suite several doors down from hers by mistake. However, before he could rectify this error, his feet soldiered on, and collided with a futon.

Renji Abarai pitched forward, and his forehead struck a low table.

After this, he lay there quietly. Not unconscious, just not quite there. The determined dogfighter had taken much more serious blows in the past. From Ikkaku, and from his pretty-boy friend Yumichika. Man, that guy in particular could hit! Talk about looks can be deceiving! But right now, the combination of his high blood-alcohol level, the crack to his noggin, and the fact that he couldn't seem to locate his own body kept him lying face down on the floor. It was actually pretty comfortable, when you got right down to it.

And to top it off, he could still hear the ravishing maiden's voice quite clearly even from this position.

"Hey, did you hear something?"

"Just a drunk passing out a few doors down. Don't give it a thought, Rangiku."

There was the sound of movement, and the rustle of clothing as someone slid across the floor.

"Aww, but I like drunks! And I thought you did too. We should invite them to join us!"

"Not gonna happen. You're the only one I want to see tonight."

There came a giggle, and what might have been someone flinging themselves on another person.

"You tease! Always leaving me alone. I wake up sometimes and you're not there. You never used to do that. Why all the secrecy, anyway? I want to show you off to all of my friends! Come on, let's go."

A brief scuffle.

"No. I'm sorry, Rangiku. Nobody's supposed to know I'm here." The voice was quiet, and sad.

Hey, Renji suddenly realized. He calls her by her first name. No honorific. And what a smoldering name. 'Rangiku'. They must be close.

Moaning followed, the disappointed kind. "Listen to yourself, all secretive and mysterious. It wasn't so bad when you were a lieutenant, but now, it's all I can do to get you to look at me in public. What, did they make you swear to be celibate when you put on that pretty white coat? I thought you and I would be friends forever!"

"We will be." The guy (it was a guy, too. That sucks) sounded like he was smiling now.

"Maybe when I become a lieutenant, you'll have to start paying more attention to me, hmmm?"

"Rangiku…"

He wasn't smiling now. The farthest thing from it. For some reason, that made Renji sit up and take notice. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

She still sounded so deliriously happy. "What? Why the long face, mister? Come on, tell the pretty lady what's troubling you."

"Ah, forget it, I'll tell ya later. Here, gimme a swig of that."

Grinning again. It was in his voice.

But not in hers.

"No."

Tension in the air now.

"Don't do that. Don't give me that smile and voice you give to everybody else. You don't have to frighten me to feel safe around me, you remember that? If there's something troubling you, then just come right out and say it."

Silence.

Were they ever going to start talking? Or maybe he was …

"I came here tonight to tell you that your name wasn't submitted for the lieutenants' trials next week."

More silence.

"Oh. I see."

She gave a weary sigh. "Well, I guess I'll just have to wait around again. A Fifth seat wouldn't have been able to compete against all those Thirds and Fourths, right? Maybe in a hundred years, I'll…"

"NO! Not a hundred years, not ten, not even one! You _deserve_ to be a lieutenant _now_! We both know you're powerful enough, you're talented enough, and by my damn eyes, you're more than smart enough! The only reason that bitch didn't put your name forward is because you're…!"

He hesitated, and she gave a small chuckle. "Too beautiful, right?"

There was ice in his tone now. Wrath compounded upon wrath. "Yes. You are beautiful. And different. So she's never liked you, and she's done her damndest to keep you from rising any higher in the Tenth than Fifth seat. Promoting losers like Arakaki and that puny sparrow of his, just because they fit some mold of what your royal captain considers ideal shinigami. You could have torn both of them apart if you wanted to!"

"Ah, but I'm lazy that way. You remember, right? So that's what's got a bug up your butt, and why you have to sneak around to tell me. Ratting out a captain is pretty deplorable, don't you know. And it isn't like you've got the most ordinary appearance, right, Fox-Face?"

"Rangiku." Renji could hear someone moving now, and even the scrape of fingers over cloth. "I'll say it again. Come over to my squad. Be with me. Why stay here and keep butting your head against something that isn't going to change?"

"But all my best friends are here! You know how much they love me. And besides, I believe your division already has a lieutenant."

"Say the word and he's gone."

What? What did that mean?

Apparently Renji wasn't the only one who got a bad feeling from this line of talk, because Rangiku's voice had gone cold. "I'd like to think you're drunk right now, but I know you too well to not tell when you're being serious. So I guess I'll just have to tell it to you again: Screw that!"

Her partner's words had a deadly ring to them now. "I'm tired of hearing these buffoons slander and deride you. All their talk about duty, and honor, and justice, when all they really mean is control, and fear, and privilege! We came into this place together, and they didn't even let us graduate at the same time!"

"They had their eye on you from the start. Don't start complaining about it now."

"It's you I'm worried about! If a situation does arise in the field where they have to choose between you and one of their darlings, whom do you think they'll pick? I try to protect you, but it just doesn't feel like enough!"

"You big softie. I knew you were looking out for me all this time." What sounded like a kiss on the cheek came next. Or was it the cheek? "I've been worried about you too. Seriously, what have you been doing that keeps you so busy lately?"

"My duties involve…"

"To hell with your duties, lover boy. I'm talking about those times I ask around for you, and you're nowhere to be found. Like you just disappeared into the wide blue yonder. Not even that nice little mopey blonde who tags along wherever you go has a clue what you're doing. And don't tell me you've been going back to our old home, because I checked there too, and you weren't around. Have you been skipping out on this dimension? Seeing how the other half lives, maybe?"

"Don't worry about that. It can't hurt you."

"I think you offered to kill someone for me a minute back. So maybe I'm not the one who needs to be watching their back. Just what are you up to? Won't you tell me, at least?"

There was the sound of someone rising. "I'm sorry. One day I'll tell you everything. There are things I have to do, for both of us."

"You're still afraid, aren't you? Why? Aren't we safe here?"

"It's not a question of being safe, Rangiku. I'm looking for the promise to catch up with the reality. They promised us paradise. And so far, I'm still not seeing it. If they're not going to make good on their word, then we'll just have to give them a good reason to change."

"When you talk like that, I get worried. I don't want to have to wake up in a world where I know you're not in it. Don't you understand that?"

"Yes. Not only that, I feel it too. Which is why I have to go now."

"Don't. Please. Stay. Have a drink with me, at least."

"Have one for me, my sweet. There's still a lot I must do."

" 'Miles to go before we rest', huh?"

"See? You're plenty smart. I wouldn't be surprised if you get that vice-captain's badge by next week."

"Hah-hah, very funny."

"Don't doubt it. I know these things. I'm in the know, don'tcha know."

"That's it, go on, get out of here. If you're not going to take me seriously, then I'll just have to drown my sorrows with the rest of my crew."

"Let's talk again soon."

"My door's always open, Moonbeam."

Somewhere down the way, a balcony door slid open, and there was a slight whoosh of displaced air. After that, Rangiku was silent for a time.

Then she gave a curse, and a saké jug crashed into several pieces.

"Dammit all. Bunch of lying condescending backstabbing pricks. You can all just dry up and blow away."

A while later, Renji heard her get up and leave the room. He tried to stand upright, to speak with her, ask what that had all been about. But for some reason it was all growing fuzzy now. There was something about lieutenants, and people disappearing. But what did it all mean? Could anybody please explain this to me?

_We don't know. Something feels…_

…_wrong. Can you stand and follow them?_

Yeah. I can. I can stand. I can do anything, don'tcha know.

A second later, Renji Abarai had passed out.

* * *

In the barren depths of Hueco Mundo, where the wind howled with such force it had long since reduced the sand to mounds of glass, there was to be held a conference of kings.

"This is lovely," Aizen Sōsuke remarked as he crouched down to run his fingers over the rippled ridges on which they stood. His reflection in it came back as little more than a portrait of eyes gazing cheerfully back at their progenitor. Why, he even knew someone like that! If only they were here to appreciate the similarity. He turned his head to regard the lone Hollow stationed at his back. "What are your thoughts on it, my dear?"

Watchful eyes left off scanning the sky and landscape, and Neliel tu Odelschvank cast a discerning glance in his direction. She ran a hand through her thick wealth of verdured locks, while the other stayed firmly wrapped about the hilt of her zanpakutō. "I find it lonely, and unwelcome, my lord. Small wonder we never heard of this self-styled king before now."

Her shinigami liege rose up smoothly. "Any land can be a kingdom, Neliel. Do you think more highly of the terrain surrounding my seat now that it nears completion?"

"It is better fortified, if that's what you mean, Aizen-sama."

"I was referring more to the sense of it," her lord smiled kindly. "Does it strike you as being more majestic?"

The bodyguard pondered this for a time. Then she lifted her skull-crowned head. "I believe it has more to do with the monarch than his domain."

"Precisely so." Keen senses had picked out the entourage in the distance, as well as what they escorted. "The state of the realm is a reflection of the one who rules there. So we have already learned something about him. And in just a few moments," he grinned in that way he had, "we will know even more."

By now Neliel had also discerned the swirling vortex of charcoal reiatsu approaching their camp. The oasis of kidō magic Aizen had cast served to protect them from the gargantuan hurricane that raged ceaselessly throughout this forsaken land. But even the natural chaos at the heart of Hueco Mundo was forced to succumb timidly before the specter that approached them.

It was like unto a massive spire of smoky shadow around which could be seen flying several _adjuchas_-level Hollows. A larger force of their brethren was arrayed at the base of the black tower. Their energy might have been nothing to sneer at under other circumstances, but right now it was completely eclipsed in the wake of the contained explosion that must surely mark the presence of their ruler.

Neliel remained at Sōsuke's back, slightly to one side. There was a pronounced wariness in her face that bespoke of concern, and quite possibly even fear. That was no small feat, to invoke such feelings in his chosen _Tercera Espada_. He had brought her, not to demonstrate his power, but because she was someone he could rely upon to recognize the difference between an actual threat and mere bravado. When conducting negotiations, an enforcer of that sort made more of an impression on thinking individuals than simple muscle.

Of course, that was assuming his information on this character could be relied upon. But strangely enough, even if his Hollow counterpart proved to be entirely uninterested in anything but pulling out their swords to 'measure' them, that too would be within his abilities. He had experience with such types, after all.

The pompadour potentate let a slight smile play about his lips, and it never once bothered him that he might die in this place.

While pondering the possibilities, the undead entourage ahead drew to a halt. One Hollow trundled out in front. Its skull was huge and rounded, with heavy square teeth and curving tusks, yellow and cracked from many battles. This envoy shambled to the point halfway between both parties, leaning on its knuckles like an ape, a flabby legless torso extending behind it. The air had gone strangely quiet with the royal procession's approach, so when the creature spoke, they had no trouble hearing it.

"I speak in the name of the King. Word of your presence in these lands has reached His ears. He had assumed that you would know His wishes concerning your proposal when your messenger was returned to you in pieces. But you have chosen to breach the Lord's Border in spite of His munificence, and such an effrontery has been chosen to be addressed in person."

Aizen Sōsuke stood with arms crossed lightly, taking in this bit of subservient grandstanding with the air of a man watching a particularly slapstick comedy.

When the speaker paused to await his response, he gave none. Only continued to stare at it steadily.

The _adjuchas_ watched him. After a while, it turned its empty eye sockets to where Neliel remained standing behind him.

"You, unmasked wretch. Tell yon shinigami offal this: the longer it continues to disregard my Lord's messenger, the longer shall it be forced to suffer when my Lord deems this brief diversion concluded. If it will not speak…"

"I speak for myself, at your master's request, when he treated the emissary I sent him so rudely," Aizen interrupted the Hollow, a measure of remonstrance allowed to creep into his words. "And I have betaken myself to his lands in order to repeat the terms whose response he did not think to include in his parcel. But it would seem that incivility is a trait his own servants have learned from their master's table well."

Dull black holes now fixed him once again with their impenetrable shadows. The messenger breathed in deeply through its gaping nostrils. One long, black-nailed finger then came up and leveled at his heart. "My Lord cannot be expected to speak directly with a turncoat, nor the despicable murderer it chooses to grovel before. To even stand in His presence is the greatest blessing you could ever know, in addition to being the last."

A tilt of his head caused Aizen's saturnine features to view the speaker in a new light, and not a benevolent one. "Am I to be summarily executed then, without even being given the opportunity to speak in my defense or reiterate my proposal? It would seem that this so-called king has little in what I would deem courtesy."

"His will is the law, churl," the Hollow relayed in a pedantic tone, as it no doubt had numerous times before. "He is the Lord, the one to whom we all must pray and give thanks to for allowing us to continue to live every given moment. He carries power in one hand, and life in the other, and all in Hueco Mundo must recognize Him as king in sight and word or perish."

This formal prose caused Aizen's deep bistre eyes to twinkle merrily.

"It's a very curious king whose subjects do not even know his name."

"His name is Death. You cannot address him by any other." The Hollow seemed to grind its molars in affront.

"Whereas he cannot seem to address me at all," he replied, and at his back, Neliel was silently thrilled by her lord's noble bearing in the face of such a nightmare as loomed before them.

As if in response, the cloud of darkness seemed to roil and spin faster. Its chosen mouthpiece turned its head to regard the event, and after a while it turned back around.

"His Eminence has concluded that this parlay no longer amuses him. You have sullied His presence long enough, shinigami scum. In the name of all those you have foully slain, my Master proclaims upon you the sentence of death."

At this, the Hollow's massive jaws spread wide, and a purplish-red glow shone forth. "Regret and die, interloper," it pronounced, and a Cero roared from its throat.

Lit by its executioner's glow, Aizen merely closed his eyes.

Neliel interposed herself between them.

The _arrancar_'s face was awash in the visceral colors of hot organs. She looked as calm and unaffected as her charge. Without the slightest hint of reservation, the Third _Espada_ reached up, and caught the blast barehanded.

It was more than just blocking it. In her fingers, the Cero became as malleable and harmless as wet sand. Then, before any voices could be raised, Neliel opened her mouth, and proceeded to swallow the energy shot like it were no more than a wet liver.

She stood there for a moment, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, seemingly lost to the world. Sōsuke regarded her rapture with amusement, and no small touch of pride. Here and now, let this great lord see for himself what had come about from Aizen's involvement in the affairs of Hueco Mundo.

Beneath the pink war markings, the white-clad maiden's nose wrinkled suddenly. Her eyes drifted open, and they locked onto the offending attacker before them.

When the emissary opened its mouth again, Neliel tu Odelschvank did the same.

Her _Doblé Cero_ lit their surroundings with a green flash. It went through the one who had spoken, and proceeded on to collide with the black wall that loomed up to the sky before them, without having any affect upon that menacing pillar.

The same could not be said for its servant. The arms stayed upright, and the lower half of its slug-like body still remained. But the rest had been completely vaporized. After a few seconds, the smoking appendages pitched over to either side.

As if this were a signal, the remaining members of the king's caravan howled, and attacked en masse.

From the air and on the hoof they came. Beasts of a hundred different sizes and descriptions charging over the glassy terrain, drooling in frenzy, eyes blazing behind the masks they wore so proudly in service to their undying sire. They were an army of some of the greatest monsters that were ever spawned on this plane of demons.

Aizen and his shield-maiden stood before them. Neither moved as the swarm approached.

Then the death god raised his hand. And at his command, black lightning fell from the heavens.

Beams of dark energy rained down, one after another. Where they landed, the explosions made Neliel's previous effort look like a match in the face of a forest fire. The dunes were heated to liquidity, and then evaporated altogether. So too went the Hollows. In less than four seconds, the entire force of men-at-arms was completely erased, without any resistance.

Watching this display carefully, Sōsuke raised his hand again, and the black death ceased. A shimmering heat haze and pall of smoke hung before them, but at another gesture, Neliel unsheathed her weapon, Gamuza, and proceeded to dispel both with a single sweep of the blade.

At their front, there was now only the tower of living shadows.

They waited, then. To see what decision would be made.

It did not take long.

From out of the base of that vortex, there rode a picture of terror.

At first glance, the king seemed to be mounted on a steed made of bones. But upon closer inspection, one could see that he was not astride it, but actually growing up out of the skeletal stallion's back, from the pelvis up. He himself was composed entirely of bone, vaguely human in appearance, but much larger. Even hunched, the abomination remained a good twelve feet tall at the shoulder. But not at the head, for of this, there was no sign. It was only when the collection of skeletal parts came closer that they saw it, standing out against the ragged black cloak that adorned its chest and went streaming down the back. The skull was carried in those fleshless white hands. Bits of hair still clung to the scalp, and a battered circlet of twisted iron adorned its brow. Only the eyes remained within their sockets; sick, burning, red-veined things with huge black pupils and no irises. A picture from the darkest fairy tales trotted slowly through the slagged remains of that plain, past bubbling pits of glass and charred flesh, until at last it came to a halt before Aizen.

A touch from her lord's hand caused Neliel to sheathe the sword and step aside, bowing. As imperturbable as if he were approaching an old friend in a sunlit glade, the young genius looked up at his royal host.

"So you are the dullahan," Aizen said.

Those disturbingly human eyes regarded him, making notice of how this shinigami did not hesitate to meet its gaze.

Then they glanced quickly up.

Far overhead, against the moon, a tiny black winged figure could be seen.

And the jaws of the beheaded spirit opened, to let loose a voice like the snapping of dry bone.

"_The mephistopheles," _it mused, almost to itself. _"Our subjects have long whispered to us of its existence, but none have ever been able to come close to locating it. We would have been pleased to see it bow before our power."_ Then the legendary creature's attention came back to the smiling shinigami before it. _"But it would seem that it has already bent the knee. And to a mere shinigami, at that. Such a one is beneath our notice, regardless of the rarity of meeting another like ourselves." _

"And yet surely one lord must wonder why he could not sense the presence of another beforehand, or why that other would willingly enter into the service of their sworn enemy, even if that enemy carries on commerce with their realm."

Bare bone arms came up, and the living skull looked down upon him from on high.

"_Know this, upstart. We do not fear your paltry skills, nor do we care to bandy words with the witless cowards who betray their own to bare throat to your blade. Straddle the fence as much as you like. In the end, we remain at war with your verminous kind, and your deaths are ours to dictate when we see fit. Nothing can ever change that."_

"You are mistaken, sir," the occulted captain spoke plainly. "Though a great number of Hollows have come to accept my leadership, it is not their obedience that I care to call upon, but their help. I am Aizen Sōsuke, and I seek to resolve the conflict between our realms that has cost so many their promised paradise."

"_We have heard your entreaties, blood-stained peasant. And we remain unswayed by them."_ The dullahan brought its head down to chest-level once more. _"Words mean nothing. The devious plotting and conniving that mark your lame excuse for an afterlife are of no consequence to the Hollow Nation. We will endure, as nature intended, while you strive to your utmost, and fail. We can never be truly defeated, no matter how many of us fall to your blades and go to be lorded over in your rotting holy land."_

"I do not consider you my enemies, great lord."

"_We are not. We are your executioners."_

This was getting him nowhere. Time to try a new tactic.

"And yet the shinigami are not alone in opposing you. There is another group who actively pursues Hollows in what they call justified engagements. And unlike us, when they catch you, there is no purification ceremony. Only destruction, on the most enduring level."

A slow hiss escaped the clenched ivory teeth.

Aizen regarded it closely.

"_The bowmen have long been a source of displeasure to us, we will grant that."_

"The shinigami too publicly look upon their actions with distaste. But behind closed doors, their leaders secretly aid the Quincy whenever requested, and turn a blind eye to their savage crusade against the very ones they themselves claim to rescue from the dark. It is only one of the hypocrisies that have stood out before me. One that I feel could stand to be rectified without a moment's loss."

Now there was clear confusion mixed with the suspicious hostility that double-formed creature regarded them with.

"_What are you offering us, worm?"_

The continued insults slid off Aizen as easily as raindrops down a polished blade. From within the folds of his robe, he produced a small cube and held it out to the skeleton cavalier.

"Here you will find the names and locations of the highest families of the Quincy race. I offer this to you, to do with as you see fit. Make of that chance what you will, but do not discount the fact that it has been tendered."

The hands remained wrapped around their head, but hungry void pupils seemed to try and absorb the information contained inside that box without having to touch it. A scent of death leaked out over them all now. When it spoke next, the words were delivered in scornful tones.

"_Do the shinigami think to lure us into a trap? Or perhaps could this simply be a means of removing a potentially embarrassing alliance before it ever comes to light?"_

Aizen knelt then and placed his peace offering on the transparent stretch of land that remained between them.

"Let it remain here, then, for anyone to pick up and use as they see fit. One does not tell the king how to act. I only make the first move toward reconciliation. It is up to you to decide whether you might wish to see what more might come of it. The invitation to visit my home of Las Noches still stands. I will wait upon your decision, whatever it may be. And now I depart from your home."

Aizen turned and began to walk away. It was in no way the pace of a man who had his back turned to death.

"_Did we give you permission to leave, shinigami?"_

The captain did not turn around. "You never so much as gave me your name, though I was kind enough to give you mine."

There was a sigh like air escaping from a concealed tomb. _"Very well, malapert filth. For your formality, we will extend the benefit of noblesse oblige. We are the King of the Lightless Domain, Ruler of the Wailing Waste, King Barragan Luisenbarn. And lest you forget, we are able to kill you all on a whim."_

"What I forget and what I know are two very different things, your Highness. Your kingly forbearance is keeping one of us alive, but only I know which."

For just a moment, there was a lessening of the bonds in which he bound himself, allowing the full strength of his current reiatsu to leak out into that deathly domain for all to feel.

And the stallion drew back apace involuntarily.

Neliel did not miss this before she too moved to depart.

"And now you know as well," Aizen called.

He never stopped moving.

They made their way from that place without further altercations.

After a while, the green-haired warrior at his side spoke.

"It seems that the information Ulquiorra supplied us with was no exaggeration, Aizen-sama. He is _vasto lorde_."

"So it would seem," her lord spoke confidently, his slipper-shod feet gliding across the polished frozen ocean. "And our _Primera's_ strength in battle has been proven once more, to a certain degree. Kyoka Suigetsu was also sufficient to hide his presence even to the king. A most enlightening evening, as I had hoped."

For not the first time in her life, Neliel marveled at this man's fearless composure, enough to inspire thoughts of elevation to a better life even in the heartless breast of a Hollow. It was because of this that she could voice the next question.

"My lord, if it's not improper for me to ask, why did Ichimaru-san not accompany you on this meeting as before?"

Breaking from his musing, Sōsuke looked back on her with the faintest of smiles.

"Are you concerned about our good man, dear Neliel?" When her gaze did not drop, his face turned serious. "Please lay any worries to rest. Ichimaru volunteered to take my place back in Soul Society in order to allow me to make this meeting, which would have otherwise conflicted with my assigned duties. We had another replacement in mind, but Gin insisted that he perform this function himself. I believe it was something personal this time."

"Is it anything dangerous?" Neliel asked casually.

"Not for him, though perhaps for the ones he will be attending." And he waved his hand. "An offshoot of Ulquiorra's visit to the human realm last month. Nothing of importance, just one of those things they require from us captains every now and then. All part of the game. The _Espada_ are not alone in changing ranks."

"Speaking of which," his follower spoke up, "who will take the place of the _Segunda_ now that he is dead?"

"Ah," Aizen smiled. "We'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

Stepping into the funeral services for Kenta Arakaki, Isane Kotetsu found herself blithely wondering if she should have brought a date.

What an absolutely crazy thought, she decided.

But then, from the way a few of them were looking at her, they clearly thought she had.

Nemu Kurotsuchi stood at her side, as was often the case nowadays. Since the captain's daughter was not technically a part of any division yet, not even her parent's, she did not have any duties beyond the ones Mayuri specifically chose for her. That being the case, whenever her scientific forbearer was not pumping her full of information or subjecting her to a variety of other gruesome training methods, Nemu was often assigned to observe and learn from her only regular contact outside the Research and Development Bureau grounds. The dour maiden was practically joined to Isane at the hip during those times. She did not stray far. Because of this, certain nasty-minded people had come to unfounded conclusions about their relationship. "Dog and owner," they would whisper, and giggle. Or even, "Bunk buddies," and let their imaginations wander in most disrespectful fashions about the tall, awkward lieutenant and her half-height mystery accomplice.

For her part, Isane thought of her purple-haired partner in more familiar terms.

'Little sister.'

She was accustomed to that role. When first leading Nemu out into the world, it had been with a strange mix of courtesy, respect, and dread. After all, this girl was fated to be one of her fellow officers, regardless of the manner of her birth. But after their first day together, it had dawned upon Isane that she had been looking at this pairing all wrong. It wasn't really that she had been tasked with mentoring an ally.

Rather, it was an elder sibling showing her baby sister the ways of the world.

Unohana must have seen it herself; the need for such a bond, and that was why she had recommended Isane for it in the first place. She already had experience. Kiyone had taught her how to handle young minds, and Nemu was certainly less of a handful than the bouncy and rambunctious little girl who would dash off to chase butterflies and ask everyone she met who they were and where they were going. Where her sister went, trouble could not be far behind. In this case, though, it was more a case of ensuring that no one came asking for trouble. Because in spite of her placid exterior, Nemu Kurotsuchi did not balk at taking action.

Isane took note of their surroundings. The mood was subdued, as should be expected. Arakaki had been a respected member of this division, but there was something about the manner of his passing that seemed to overshadow any good he might have done in life. The thought that a lieutenant could be brought low so quickly and unexpectedly did not bode well for the rest of them, after all. And with the culprit still unexplained and on the loose, any simple foray into the world of the living could result in their own untimely passing. That fact was not lost on anyone present.

"_The next person who looks at me cross-eyed had better be holding out a stiff drink, because otherwise they won't be going down pleasant!"_

Lieutenant Kotetsu flinched at the volume of that shout, recognizing from experience the sound of a loud drunk. The thought made her feel rather uncomfortable, considering the circumstances. People expressed grief in many ways, and there were…

"_I'm sorry, what? I can't understand a word you're saying, you'll have to speak up!"_

A very unpleasant suspicion was building in her mind now. One could almost call it a premonition for disaster, well-honed by many years of being confronted by just that.

"_Unacceptable? UNaccEPTable? It's a damn wake, you're supposed to make merry and celebrate the person's life, not sit around wringing your hands and hoping you're not next! Mercy's sake!"_

Nemu was staring straight ahead, paying no particular attention to anything going on. She would probably continue doing so until her assigned guardian chose to point out an incident or personage of notice. And suddenly an option became quite clear to Isane.

"_Disrupting what? You're not doing anything! How can I be disrupting nothing, it's a contradiction in terms!"_

They could leave. More than that, they _should_ leave. The service would be going on throughout the night, plenty of time to come back later in order to express their regrets properly. Everyone was now more concerned with the altercation occurring somewhere up ahead, they'd never notice us depart. Quickly now, before the false face of fortune turns its eye upon me once again, let's beat a hasty retreat.

Turning to her associate, Isane said, "Nemu-san, we should be goin…"

"_I'm going already, get yer hands off me! Lemme just pick up something from the bar!"_

What? The bar?

Her eyes traveled over slightly to the left.

Not a foot away there stood a long table stocked with all manner of liquid refreshments, of any quantity or proof that a person could ever wish to imbibe. Standing behind it, looking particularly ill at ease, was a member of her own unit who had clearly been roped into performing the service of bartender. From under a fall of lank black hair, a pair of miserable eyes regarded his lieutenant with something akin to commiseration.

_We're in the same boat_, they seemed to say. _Run now, while you still can._

Good advice.

But before she could take it, the crowd before them parted, and the pair of females found themselves confronted by the source of this night's disruptions, in the form of a cross-looking blonde beauty who towered over most of her companions. She was exposing a scandalous amount of cleavage, and her sapphire-blue eyes were composed of equal parts inebriation and infuriation.

It was those selfsame orbs that riveted the mismatched ladies standing by the bar.

Isane could have cried at how unfair this was. Why do I always get singled out like this? Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact, don't make…!

She made eye contact.

A look of hostility marred the other woman's lovely face, causing her eyes to blaze as they focused on Isane's.

And then they traveled up.

Silver. Short cut. Even some braids.

They traveled down and to Isane's left.

Purple. Down to her back. Bangs. Green eyes?

And then, slowly, purposefully, inquisitively, they moved down, down, _down_, to fixate upon the shorter woman's very conspicuous chest.

There looked to be almost a nod of approval.

Back over to Isane, now to inspect her endowments.

Another nod, more forceful.

That golden head came up. And a big happy smile lit her face.

She spread her arms wide, and proclaimed loudly, "SISTERS!"

Then before either of them could move, she encased both in a fiercely powerful hug.

Nemu glanced over at Isane, to gauge how to respond to this situation. But the look of stupefied amazement on her elder's face did little to illustrate the proper course of action. In that case, acquiescence took hold, and she submitted to the unexpected abrazzo without complaint.

Their alcoholic assailant drew back apace, one arm resting on either of her new playmates' shoulders.

"Come with me!" she announced. "We're forming our own party, one that'll put this one to shame!"

The woman turned then, started grabbing up bottles and jugs from the table, and thrust them out at her chosen company. Neither Isane nor Nemu made any sign of protest, only accepting the offerings without a word.

Removing her zanpakutō sheathe and all from the obi tied around her waist, the vocal vixen proceeded to drape it over the back of her neck and then looped several jugs of saké on either end. Some Division Ten residents looked to their superiors questioningly, as if to ask if they should put a stop to this, but apparently it had been decided that so long as the offender left, nothing else mattered.

"Move out!" the blonde declared, and like soldiers on parade, her hijacked cohorts turned and marched back the way they had just come. They exited through the drapes, heading back out into the night.

At the curtained archway, Rangiku Matsumoto turned back. She held her hand up vertically in the direction of the casket, and bowed her head slightly. Then, with a sniff and a disgusted look at her fellows, she spun about and strode off in search of different company.

It's okay, Isane told herself as she trundled along. We're doing a good deed, removing ourselves to another area. Once this person has drunk enough and been put to bed, we can come back and perform our duties. Just watch. It'll all turn out for the best.

_I remain impressed by your optimism._

I can handle this, the lieutenant told herself. I can set a good example.

Behind them, their self-appointed leader began to sing loudly.

* * *

At a quarter 'til midnight, Isane was feeling in control of herself.

At five past one o'clock, she was starting to get a bit buzzed.

At half-past three, Isane Kotetsu was visibly smashed.

They were in the top room of an expensive establishment, one whose ownership and repute had never been made clear. A vague reply of, "Somebody's got to, right?" was all their leader had offered. Several articles of clothing had been discarded during the preceding festivities, and even more types of musical instruments lay scattered about during an impromptu attempt to determine whether or not the trio had what it took to be travelling performers. The jury was still out on that one.

"The'r all buncha smarmy, uptight cow'rds," Rangiku was explaining, slurring her words dreadfully but still managing to make herself understood. "They tell you, 'C'mon in, nice and warm 'ere, never have'ta worry 'bout nobody'n nothing'. Yeah, right! 'Nless you can't keep quiet and do as you're told, then it's a slap in the face fer you!"

"But that's the law, Rangiku-chan." Isane was feeling particularly untroubled at this point, and wished to share that feeling with her new friend. She had one arm about Matsumoto's shoulders, and the other was hugging Kurotsuchi close to her. Nemu remained unchanged, stone-faced and silent. "The Go…Gutiye… Soul Society is a military organization at heart, made to combat the Hollows. You have to obey your superiors or the chain of command has a… a weak link."

"Ahh!" the voluptuous tow-headed female rested her dizzy head on the tall girl's arm. "Tha's not right. Not right at all. I's not getting nowhere, don'tcha see? Things don't change, stay the way they are, we're gonna keep doing this f'rever 'n ever! No end in sight. Nuthin' changes, nuthin' gets resolved, just swept unner the rug so nobody sees it. Too scared to speak up an' all."

Those words had an affect on Isane. Now she felt like crying, it felt so bad. "You're right! Right, you're absolutely right! They don't let us speak! We're muzzled, night and day! I…" And she leaned her silver crown down to rest on Rangiku's. "I know what you mean, Goldie-chan. I've been thinking it for so long, but I never had the courage to say it. I… I don't want to do this for the rest of my life! There's no winning this war, it's just more death, over and over again, and nobody ever gets to declare it over. It's been that way for centuries and centuries, since before you were born, they don't remember it, the young ones, because they all die, out on the field, and the only ones left are the generals, the…"

Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "Monsters."

"Mmmnn, Silver-chan sounds so old!" the drowsy damsel mumbled against her. "Like an old man." And she giggled. "Ojiiii-SAN!"

"It's true," Kotetsu whispered, and she began to rock back and forth, crying and clutching her friends. "I am, I am. I'm old, Ran-chan! Isane Kotetsu is the oldest lieutenant in the entire 13 Imperial Squads. Older even than Yamamamamoto's lieutenant, Gray-Fox. She's been in the land of the dead for over 1,300 years! Under her… the healer, the… the GOOD one!" And a lazy smile touched her tear-stained face. "The good monster."

"Whozza monster?" Rangiku's golden curls had collapsed into Isane's lap, and were somewhat muffled by the cloth.

"They are!" she insisted. "All of them! They're all monsters. It didn't used to be this way… there were more good ones than bad. The shinigami had honor, and dignity, and they went out into the Rukongai and sought to co…commmmUnicate with people! The Fourth used to offer their skills to the other souls outside the walls, to bring them relief, and we would actually go into the living world and heal those plagued with illness and discomfort. On the battlefield, we ministered to the living, and took them up when they died, and through the streets of their cities, we… we offered them our gifts, and they named us gods… angels… _miracles_, they used to call us!"

The ancient storyteller reached over, snagged a saké jug, and took a long pull on it. Setting the container down, she continued.

"But times changed. The captains had falling outs with the administrators, and the old men went to the Old Man. Over his head, even, there's the King, and they told him, 'We need to change our priorities, it's costing us too much!' Cost, they said! COST! _We're dead, you stupid stupid people, what the hell do we care about COST? _There are no pretty stones here, no jingly-jingly coins, that's from the old world! Why should we care about cost, it doesn't exist anywhere except in your heads? It's MEANINGLESS! Some of the captains complained about how their men were being sent out to die, and so they got replaced. Or they got promoted, to the Chamber of 46 or higher, to Zero Squad. And the Hollows… they were getting worse and worse. Stronger! Because we were losing sight of our purpose, things in the mortal realm were growing more horrible. And as for us…"

She waved an arm, encompassing the whole of creation in its wake. "Person who knows ban-kai… comes along maybe once, twice in a generation. And the captains… they're the real strength of the Seiratatouille. So when we lose one, it's a big deal. Can't let our strength appear to deplete, have to save face before the Old Mountain and his King, otherwise, he might reconsider and fire all of them… LITERALLY! Have to find a replacement quick, and the only thing they check to see is if a person's _strong_ enough! Can do Ban-KAAAAI!" And she tossed back another swig, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "Doesn't matter where they came from or what they're like. Crazy as a loon, bloodthirsty, cold-hearted bastard, doesn't matter. As long as they can kill like nobody's business, they get the job. That's why…"

The shoulders slumped. They quaked. Isane's eyes were shut tight, teeth gritted together as tears flowed down her cheeks.

"That's why… there're so many MONSTERS today! And it's not just the obvious ones, either! You see Zaraki, and you know he's a beast. Outshines even the Old School Four!" Her companions did not interrupt. "But on top of that, there's… GIN! He's a fox in a henhouse, and whenever he looks at me, I know he's thinking about taking me into one of those dead-end alleys and raping me to death with that wakizashi! He'd think it's _funny_, killing me, because who do you call when the healer's been stabbed? I can tell! Then you've got Komamura, and Soifon! They're both so quiet and officious, but if Yamamoto points at you and says, "Kill 'im," they'll do it! Seriously, both of them, they're crazy-loyal! And don't get me started on Byakuya Kuchiki! I just… I wanna… I wanna _kiss_ him, he's so pretty, but then he'd cut my head off, don't think that he wouldn't! The Ninth Squad captain is a mope, he just shakes his head and pretends he doesn't see anything! Easy for _him_, what about the rest of us? As for the Tenth and Twelfth…"

Of a sudden, a hand came up over her mouth.

Muzzled, the tearful death god slowly rotated her head to regard her companion.

Nemu's expression had not altered in the slightest. She still displayed that mask of resigned impartiality that she had worn throughout the entire evening's proceedings, even when Matsumoto was stripping her to compare bust sizes. Quite possibly that was her actual outlook on existence. Not by a single twitch of her eyelid or pout of her lips did the reserved creation display any sort of reproach.

Even her voice, when she spoke next, was completely calm.

"Isane-neesan, it is best that you stop there. Certain developments in my body are designed to record all experiences that I receive, so that Mayuri-sama can analyze them later. If you were to say anything against him, he would eventually hear it, and it could displease him. Mayuri-sama does not appreciate being spoken of in unflattering terms."

She took her hand away, and the bleary-eyed Amazon stared at her.

"Captain Kurotsuchi… can hear me?"

A nod in the affirmative.

"So he… knows everything we've done together."

Another nod.

For a moment, it looked like Isane was going to drop dead on the spot. She swayed in her seat.

And then suddenly, a newfound gleam came into her eyes. Leaning forward, she turned Nemu's head, leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"Hey, there, Mayuri-taichou. I know you can hear me, and I just wanted you to know that one time, when you and Retsu-taichou left me alone in your office, I sat in your swivel chair, spun around and laughed like a crazy woman! And you wanna know something else? That time you showed us how you halt blood-flow from severed limbs, and you took your shirt off for the demonstration? For just a second there, all I thought was 'Wow, sexy scientist!' And then of course, you had to ruin it by cutting off your own arm! You… are… CRAZY! And SEXY! CRAZY-SEXY, my sister would call you! And if you ever try to take me to task for saying this, I'll tell her so many stories about you, it won't matter which of them are true or false! By lunchtime everybody will have heard it, and you'll be back in the Maggot's Nest before you can spin your head around and _vomit_ _pea soup! Mayuri-KAIZOU!_"

Panting, Isane leaned away with a satisfied look on her face.

Nemu regarded her through flat dispirited eyes.

And Isane's satisfaction dissipated.

"They're monsters, Nemu-san. Like your dad. They use us up and won't let us stop. Don't…" And suddenly she was crying again, leaning forward to wrap her odd little sister in a warm heartfelt embrace. "Don't let them make you a lieutenant! It's a death sentence, can't you see that? You all get killed eventually! I don't want you to die, Nemu-san! Mayuri will just make a new one, that's what you represent to them: ready-made lieutenants! No more having to search for them, they'll just _make them! _You have to live! Don't take the trials next week! It's another sick game they play, they all already know who's going to be their lieutenants, the trials are meaningless! Just an excuse for the captains to demonstrate how strong they are, to keep any other strong souls from getting ideas! It's how the Chamber officiates. They want people to be scared spitless of the captains. Continuous, unchanging, respectful _fear!_ _That's_ what matters to them! It's not about guarding anymore! We're not guardians, we're potential monsters, pushed to achieve ban-kai, waiting in the eaves for one of them to croak! They're m-m-maniacs, they're just…"

Slowly, the eldest living member of the vice-captains sank into her two-year old protégé's lap. Broken, tearful sobs came out of her, while against Isane's own legs, Rangiku Matsumoto was sleeping peacefully. After a few minutes, the older woman too dropped into exhausted, drunken slumber.

Nemu Kurotsuchi continued to sit quietly. The candles in the lamps were burning down low. Half an hour later, they guttered out, and still she sat. Alcohol had no affect on her body. Her father had seen to that. She had lived up to his expectations so far. It was her duty, after all, as his future lieutenant. No dissent, no back-talking. Obedience, pure and simple, without consideration for anything else.

Or anyone.

Deep green eyes moved down to take in the gentle medic sleeping gratefully against her body.

Nemu reached back and felt around her Achilles heel. Locating the catch, she depressed it, and a super-thin stiletto the length of one's longest finger shot out of her heel. Withdrawing it, the bleak-eyed soul held the deadly implement up over where Isane lay disheveled and oblivious.

There was no disobeying or insulting of Mayuri Kurotsuchi allowed. The penalty was severe. She knew.

The dagger gleamed, and Kotetsu stirred, mumbling sleepily.

"Eyeball… soup…" could be heard clearly.

Nemu knew.

Without hesitation she reached up, and placing the weapon against her own auditory canal, she then drove it in.

Piercing the tympanic membrane, angling down towards her Eustachian tube, until at last Nemu felt the tip puncture the small pulsing sack that served to capture all of her auditory experiences.

Withdrawing it, she repeated this procedure on the other ear.

And then she took care of the ones for her eyes.

Dabbing at the small drops of blood that resulted, Nemu settled in and waited for the dawn.

_To be continued…_


	8. The Trials: What's the Harm?

She was sitting seiza in the offices of the Fourth division, waiting for her brother to finish his meeting, when a voice called out her name.

"Rukia-san!"

Turning, the wealthy recluse spotted someone coming down the hall.

At first glance, it seemed that the laws of diminishing distance had doubled, because the person approaching her looked extremely small. But as she drew closer, it dawned on Rukia that this one was just as short as she was. Little-girl size. And she looked familiar. Renji would have rubbed her head just like mine and called her…

Then realization dawned.

Renji. This was one of his friends from school, an advanced student. They had been introduced once before.

What was her name?

As she rose to her feet, just when Rukia's keen memory finally served to locate the answer, something else became visible.

A lieutenant's badge.

"Hinamori-fukutaichou," the member of Squad Thirteen bowed forward, proper and graceful towards the second-in-command of Division Five.

Now that they were on eye level, it was glumly apparent to Rukia that there was still an inch worth of difference in their height, and not in her favor. Another disparity lay in the unguarded warmth and tenderness of those doe-like brown eyes. With her hair held up in a fluffy white bonnet, Hinamori Momo could have passed for a carefree waitress in a friendly mom-and-pop restaurant, one who was dearly loved by the locals and appreciated by newcomers for her kind ways. Only the black shihakusho and gleaming zanpakutō at her hip served to accentuate the deadly power this dwarfish death god possessed. Her name was legendary, not just for the speed with which she had graduated and advanced to her current position, but the indisputable talent this girl possessed for kidō spells coupled with a warm gracious heart.

Renji had a nickname for her: 'The Mighty Momo'. According to him, an anonymously rude person had once referred to Hinamori within earshot as 'The Mighty Midget'. Anonymous because, once the raging leprechaun had finished with disciplining the offending party in a school-sanctioned and very public honor duel, there had been no further mention of him, whether in classes or without. Gone and quite forgotten, though some rumored that he was now a ghost haunting the mortal realm for fear of coming back. Those same rumormongers had fallen quiet whenever Momo glanced in their direction.

And now this dazzling star of the Seireitei was standing in front of Rukia, smiling good-naturedly and generally making the object of her attention feel distinctly awkward.

She was never at her best when required to trail along in Byakuya's shadow. It was long, and cold. The times when it was necessary were limited to matters of house business concerning other divisions and administrative entities, of which there seemed to be quite a lot. The house of Kuchiki was intricately involved with the running of Soul Society, and their representatives were required to make themselves conspicuous at times, so as not to allow others to forget. In spite of this, there had never seemed to be any real need for His Lordship's younger sister to accompany him on these visits. Most of the time Rukia just sat around in the background, observing the proceedings and responding to any polite comments directed her way. Today she had been requested to wait without while Captain Kuchiki consulted with Captain Unohana in regards to their collaboration in the upcoming lieutenant trials in two days.

Then this happened.

"It's good to see you again after so long, Rukia-chan," and by the other girl's tone, she could tell that comment was sincere and not simply empty words. Hinamori smiled, and continued. "We've not spoken since my graduation, I think, when you stopped by to congratulate Renji-san. Speaking of which, how is Abarai-san? I hear that he's in the Sixth division now! Are you two still close?"

"Eh, for the most part." The Kuchiki delegate sought to deter the conversation from talk of her oldest comrade. Even with all she knew he had done for her, there was still a gulf between them that neither had quite been able to breach in the intervening years. "We don't see one another very often, our duties and separate divisions keep us moving in different circles." At seeing the lively face fall, she quickly sought to amend that. "What I mean is, Renji is still working hard to advance himself, and he's kept very busy by that. I wouldn't want to diminish his efforts with my presence."

Momo gave a tilt to her head and smiled sadly. "Good wishes are always welcome, Rukia-chan. Oh!" She blinked and gave a little jump. "I'm sorry, how very discourteous of me! I should be referring to you as 'Kuchiki-sama', or even Lady Kuchiki! Oh dear, please don't be offended, I was just so surprised to see you, it totally slipped my mind, please accept my apologies, my lady!"

Rukia had been searching for an opportunity to jump in and mitigate the embarrassing situation, and she took it here. "Momo-fukutaichou, please, there's nothing wrong with the manner in which you addressed me. We were classmates, even if you graduated far ahead of me."

In response, the lieutenant's stream of apologies cut off, and she regarded her old schoolfellow with a searching air that left Kuchiki feeling woefully inadequate once again.

"You know, when he was still in our division, Abarai-san often spoke of you, Rukia-san. He said that you were the bravest, purest, most dynamic person he had ever known. You could lead an army, that was how he put it."

A sudden image of herself on a horse in full samurai armor galloping at the head of a force of foot soldiers with sword bared caused Rukia to almost grin. Mercy, but that Renji was a heedless lovable dope. She quickly brought herself back to reality, as her superior was still speaking.

"I know that when most people graduate from the academy, they don't keep up with old school friends, and certainly not the ones they left behind in the Rukongai. Even I don't get back home as much as I would like to. But you and Renji… it just seemed like there was such a strong bond between you. Respect, and reliance. Trust. Like family, really. And that's why, I understood what he couldn't express when you left. It was more than just wanting to graduate with you. He wanted to graduate with _only _you. And when that didn't happen, he threw himself into something else, I think as a way to try and make up for it."

Now this was really getting disturbing. It was Renji who had chosen _not _to deter her inclusion into the ranks of the nobility. If he had spoken out against it, even for a second…

Suddenly she felt like she was about to start crying all over again, here in the heart of the Fourth in front of this girl she barely knew. It didn't work, Renji. I have nothing to show for it. You're still the only thing holding me together, now. You and your kindnesses from afar, reaching out to me through others.

"Oh, Rukia-san, forgive me, I got carried away with myself again! I forgot there was a reason I was so glad to see you." The petite brunette edged closer, and her voice hovered just above a whisper, like she was afraid of being overheard.

"To see me?" Maybe it was just her previous line of thinking, but that seemed somewhat suspect. Perhaps her trepidation showed in her face, for Hinamori launched ahead animatedly.

"You see, I'm going to be giving a lecture series on kidō for academy attendees. It's something I felt I could do in my spare time, to try and advance the Kidō Corps as a viable option for new graduates. They don't get as much publicity as all the rest, although really it's their own fault, what with all the secrecy, you'd think they were related to the Mobile Corps! I mean, it's not like back in the olden days, when the sorcerers all lived alone and never shared their arts with anybody else! But I'm getting off track again."

Rukia remembered Momo from her brief encounters as being honest, outspoken, and highly susceptible to emotion. The sort of person you could count on to squeal when seeing a baby or adopt every stray kitten in any given area. Or beat your head in for abusing a person she had never met. But she was also extremely skilled in a plethora of abilities, lest anyone forget that.

"My point is, this isn't a division activity, or even something that would require a lieutenant to handle. Seats above Tenth have free reign in organizing such events for the students when they feel it would benefit them, though. Did you ever attend a division seat's lectures, Rukia-chan?"

"No, I didn't."

And for some reason, that felt like a lie. But while she was puzzling over this odd sensation, Hinamori steamed on.

"The focus of the lecture is on applying demon arts in ways that don't always seem useful to students. Like sleeping kidō spells, or the more esoteric charms that most of us only know from kidō-mixed drinks. Things that don't make a lot of sound and fury, and often get disregarded as such is what I mean. There's a reason they all exist, you know, and it's got nothing to do with getting drunk! In conjunction with high-end spells designed for destruction and subjugation, they can prove to be very effective. Basically, I want to show them how to be creative in the application of their kidō. And I've been needing someone with talent who doesn't know the spells to see how a person will respond to learning them. Since we met like this, it occurred to me that owing to your graduation being hastened, you might have missed out on any quiet courses like that. It would make you a perfectly qualified candidate, and would be a great help to me personally." When there must have remained no trace of encouragement from the target of her pitch, the lieutenant seemed to grow anxious. "Renji always noted how you were far better than him at demon magic!"

"That's not saying much," Rukia remarked before she could stop herself.

Momo blinked for a moment, and then grinned mischievously. "Well, he did fit in nicely with the Eleventh for a while there. Actually, I wondered what happened to cause him to be transferred out of there. Rukia-san, did you ever…?"

"Momo-san!"

Her vertical and official superior stopped talking.

Rukia then smiled in a charming and disingenuous manner.

"Fukutaichou, I would be more than happy to help you in developing your lecture in whatever manner you require. My duties at home and in the Thirteenth still allow me plenty of free time to myself, and this sounds like a very worthwhile effort. I'm sure that I, at the very least, could learn much from studying with someone of your caliber."

"Well, I… thank you, Rukia-san." Hinamori looked as if she had been prepared to argue most long and vociferously in order to suborn an affirmative from her. This sudden and unexpected compliance apparently took the wind out of the tiny vice-captain's sails for a moment. But true to her nature, this did not last long. Momo's smile, when it came back, was as genuine as the rest of her. "I'm really looking forward to working with you, Kuchiki-san! I feel like I'm back in the academy, never knowing what was going to come next, but always looking forward to it! Being a shinigami isn't just about stopping Hollow rampages and purifying souls, right? We have our own afterlife to live, after all, and lots of time to do it in!"

"I couldn't agree with you more, fukutaichou. Everybody wants to enjoy themselves from time to time. This sounds like a great deal of fun to me!"

"Me too, absolutely!" Momo clapped her hands together and beamed like a cheerful little sun, enough to light the hallway.

Just then, a cloud passed over the sun. Facing each other, both women stiffened.

Rukia knew.

Behind her, Byakuya Kuchiki had completed his business, and loomed over the diminutive duo, his reiatsu seeming to wrap around them with soft, silken, lethal fingers.

The lieutenant of the Fifth bowed low. "Kuchiki-taichou. Good afternoon."

Uninterested gray eyes spared her the briefest moment of attention. "Fukutaichou."

And then he was moving off, regally dismissive of anything that might serve to keep him from wherever he might wish to proceed to next.

Without having to be told, Rukia moved after him, remembering only at the last second to give a bow to her superior officer. "Thank you, Hinamori-fukutaichou. Please excuse me now."

She hastened to catch up with Byakuya before anymore could be said. Her actor's mask had slipped drastically back there at his arrival, and she wasn't sure she could reaffix it sufficiently to still convince this intelligent, innocent girl that she actually wanted to have anything to do with her proposed venture. Once again, it all sounded too pat. Like something that had been made up just for her convenience. Not for the first time, the wary former street urchin thought she detected a familiar scent here. But how on earth had Renji known where she would be now, to send his old friend Momo over to offer and help her with kidō? And for that matter, he was one to talk! She had seen him in the yards of Division Six from time to time, and his skill at spell-casting remained as dangerous to himself as his intended target. If anybody needed a genius instructor to improve their abilities, it was him, not her!

And yet, he had gone to all the trouble of setting this up. Plus, when you came down to it, the opportunity to learn with and from a genius like Hinamori did not present itself every day. Her instructors at the manor were famed far and wide, but their preeminence was flavored by a distinctly unapproachable pall. Questions and suggestions on how to influence demon arts were always met with affront and scorn. Like they knew everything there was to know, and she should just keep quiet and soak up whatever they were so gracious as to teach her today. In terms of approachability and friendliness, Momo already had them beat.

Who knew what more she had to offer? Come to think of it, this really might be of benefit to me as a shinigami, Rukia decided. There was no reason to feel regret for going along with this transparent façade.

With a distinctly lighter heart, she continued on her way, a tiny iceberg beside the continent of snow that was her aloof and disinterested brother.

* * *

The day had finally arrived.

Anxious applicants talked amongst one another, while more taciturn contenders took themselves off to secluded sections of the hall, there to keep their own counsel. It was no small thing, challenging oneself like this. The matter of lieutenants was held in the most serious regard by the administration, since they altered far more frequently than their superiors. After all, more often than not it fell to these souls to lead the forces of heaven out in the field. Captain class did not step onto the soil of the Middle Kingdom very often, and always with limiters. Such power tended to disrupt the flow of souls on earth, leading to enhanced conflict and aggressiveness. Even a lieutenant was considered of sufficiently potent cogency to warrant having their strength restrained to a fraction of its peak. A captain at full strength could melt the flesh off a mortal's bones without even noticing. It had been documented. And it was up to them to stand in for their leaders if, heaven forbid, something were to happen to them.

Nemu Kurotsuchi was one of those who remained off by her lonesome. The Captain had instructed her to concentrate solely on distinguishing herself in these trials. The better her performance, the more prestige it would add to Mayuri's presentation to the Central Chambers. That was her purpose in being here, to showcase the talents that Mayuri-sama had endowed upon her.

And, of course, there was also this.

From the sheathe at the small of her back, Nemu withdrew her slim-bladed sword. She tested its edge against her forearm, and found it more than sharp enough to pierce her skin.

"_Lay a blow upon him, if at all possible,"_ her creator had instructed, a finger raised in warning. _"Don't disgrace me, above all else, but take any opportunities presented to demonstrate your superiority to all involved. I won't have it be said that you balked at drawing blood, understand?"_

She did understand.

_I want to see Neesan!_

Isane-san cannot be here at this time.

_How come?_

She has to prepare to serve her function during the trials.

_Oh… Sing to me!_

I cannot right now.

_Does your tummy hurt?_

No. All is well.

_I'm not tired anymore._ _Let's play the blood game!"_

The trials will start soon. Then we may do so.

_Rewards?_

If Mayuri-sama is pleased.

_Tell Neesan I want to see Yachiru again! I like her!_

I will do so.

_Somebody's coming_.

It is the captain. Be ready.

_Ho-kay!_

The massive red doors which led out of the waiting room began to open with a groan. Behind it, a figure garbed in gray stood, masked so that only his eyes were visible. At this, the more than thirty people waiting in that room all knew that their time had finally come. At long last, they had been called upon to answer for their supporters' trust and the needs of the Gotei 13.

The gray shaman stepped into the hall, and then gestured for them all to follow him. "The trials await," he announced.

The crowd moved to obey. No more words were spoken. Not a single encouragement or jape. They were all as silent as the grave.

Nothing to fear, right?

* * *

Sitting on the lowest tier of the coliseum, Isane tried mightily to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Over a thousand years since her own exhibition, and hundreds of them under her belt in the capacity of her division, yet she still felt as cold and anxious as if it was her turn to strive to impress the elders.

Before her were the Eastern sparring grounds, a faintly elliptical field of dirt and rock punctuated here and there with small granite outcroppings, like teeth. This stadium in particular was one of the larger ones reserved for such uses. A huge dome that capped the arena itself was over a hundred meters high and some two hundred meters in diameter. The ringed seats that descended down from a point halfway up the walls could have seated three whole divisions if necessary.

Kept underground as it was and reserved only for suitable occasions, it was the rare day that this stadium saw itself filled to even a quarter of its capacity. Today especially, there was hardly anyone in evidence. A scattering of black robes were bundled together in groups and in pairs or singly. The number of people allowed to observe the lieutenants' trials was limited to those who were deemed to be of most benefit. Certain high-ranking nobles, distinguished members of the bureaucracy, and of course, those powerful shinigami candidates who had not been permitted to participate, but were deemed of sufficient stock to have earned the right to see how and why they had been excluded.

The elder Kotetsu sister could see her own sibling off in the distance. As if sensing her gaze, Kiyone left off arguing with her goateed accomplice and turned to peer about. Upon catching sight of Isane, she waved her arms back and forth, excitedly hollering something. She might as well have been on the other side of the Seireitei, for all the sense her sister could make out of that. But when she raised her own hand slightly and waved back, that seemed to satisfy the caramel-haired imp, and she returned to screaming at an equally red-faced fellow Third seat.

In a way, though she knew it had come as a disappointment for her baby sister, Isane was glad Captain Ukitake had not seen fit to put forward her name as a candidate. Not that Kiyone wasn't powerful in her own right. But the level of difference between Second and Third seat was as daunting as that separating captain and vice-captain. And while more than enough to handle the average Hollow, her bellicose baby sister had a tendency to throw herself all out into whatever she was doing. That sometimes led to some dangerous missteps. More than once Isane had been shocked to enter the Fourth division hospital and find the Thirteenth's co-Third seat being treated for some terrible wound inflicted while out on patrol. Although Kiyone was more often than not fully conscious and engaged in some vocal discussion even while in the midst of being healed, the sight of her injuries always made her sibling wish that she had never consented to allow them both to become death gods. It was simply too dangerous.

Of course, this was just an official display of fighting capabilities. Nothing really serious to worry about. The same thing was happening at three other places throughout the Court of Pure Souls at that very moment. Whenever more than three divisions were without vice-captains, their heads would choose those members deemed sufficient to fill the void and offer their names up to partake of the trials. Naturally the matter of whom they wished to be serving directly under them as their subordinate was entirely up to the captain. They had to believe their new lieutenant was someone they personally could rely upon.

But this was the Seireitei. 'Entirely' didn't quite mean 'exclusively'. So oftentimes, she knew, there were matters of family lineage to consider, who had the most seniority, how they were viewed by members of their own division, and how they were viewed by the counsel-members. It was the rare captain who simply tendered one hand-picked candidate and then waited for them to come through the day's proceedings with flying colors. Usually you found at least ten from every division that was wanting at that time. Only one was the chosen successor, of course, but in the interests of maintaining fairness, all had to be given their shot at proving themselves.

Once the trials had concluded, the judge at each presentation would evaluate the roster of potentials and submit a carefully worded and meticulously culled report on their performances. This would go straight to all captains involved, as well as the Central Chamber and Head Captain Yamamoto. They would evaluate the subjects' history, their reputation, and the quality of skills displayed. As soon as the necessary paperwork had been finished, they would give their blessings, and a new lieutenant would emerge to be welcomed by all their brethren. On extraordinarily rare occasions, the deciders would disagree with a captain's first pick. It was then up to the squad commander to try and find a means to convince those doubters, or simply choose their second draft. There were no recorded instances of anyone ever having to settle for a third choice. Captains were rare and not to be treated like common soldiers. Their opinions were always given special attention.

So it went, year after year, century after century. Out with the old, in with the new, Isane reflected. Only I remain, to watch them come forward time and again, all fresh-faced and eager, little comprehending how they made themselves targets for the politicos. Creatures far deadlier than mere Hollows.

Before her thoughts could grow any more accusatory, the red gates leading to the staging area opened, and into the arena there marched the pride and joy of their divisions. Assembled therein were some of the most distinguished shinigami from the Tenth, Twelfth, Thirteenth, and Sixth Squads. All those who were in need of command figures.

Only one thing was left.

Their opponent.

* * *

A note of the terrain, its advantages and obstacles, as well as the number of observers were all registered in Nemu's thoughts. Mayuri-sama always wished to know how many people were watching anything he was involved in, just in case it became necessary to deal with them afterwards. He said one should keep track of witnesses.

She couldn't tell if any of the other contestants were performing the same calculations. Judging by the way they stood and moved, virtually none of them were outfitted with anything more than their soul cutters. Nestled within her uniform and body were a host of advantageous items that might prove useful in this endeavor. Unohana-sama had mentioned while the Captain was supplying her that if he added anything else, she would look like a porcupine. The analogy had been quite mysterious.

But now was not the time for such quandaries. A yellow-robed official in the imperial box had stood to address them all.

"Warriors of the Seireitei," he called out to them. "All of you here have proven your worth on the battlefield and within your divisions, enough to warrant the approval of your respective captains." Nemu had never seen a battlefield in real life, but she did not question his erroneous assumption. She had been warned countless times about the inadequate information that many suffered to live with. "Now prove yourselves to be more than soldiers, or even officers. Show us all why you are deserving to wear the badge and flower of your division's sacred office, which have been passed down through the hands of great men and women for as long as our world's history." Actually, the concept of lieutenants had only occurred to them two hundred years after the official start of the shinigami system. Another misrepresentation. "We value your lives more than any honor or ambition, so take heed again: you are all being watched closely. Anyone who attempts to assault another candidate during this trial with the intent of improving their position will be summarily disqualified and disciplined. This is no blood-sport. It is a time-honored tradition, a celebration of our arts and your talents. Do yourselves and your associates justice. Strive bravely, choose wisdom, and fight with temperance. We wish you all good fortune."

He sat down again. Nemu's eyes flickered over to the lowest rung, where a small group of Division 4 personnel were led by their lieutenant. From this distance, it appeared as though her Nee-san's face was quite pale and agitated. But no reason why this should be so was evident.

At that moment, a portcullis of deathstone begin to rise along the wall of this battlefield. And as soon as it did, an aura of incredible potency washed over them.

With it there came the scent of hot blood.

While the others stared, she drew her sword and held it with the blade concealed behind her forearm.

Nemu watched the enemy approach.

* * *

These were the lieutenant trials.

All people recommended by their division heads were brought to a secured facility. There a judge would test them in a melee battle, with all the candidates pitted against him at once. They could fight with any weapons or skills at their disposal, and when the battle was deemed over, the judge would recognize those who had distinguished themselves the most notably. Afterwards a formal review board was convened, the captains in need would hear the committee's opinions, and a new lieutenant would be officially recognized for their squad.

There were three such trials taking place at precisely the same time in the Court of Pure Souls. With four squads needing lieutenants so desperately, it was necessary to split up the pool of claimants, as sometimes was the case. This one was her group. Isane had spoken to the head administrative agent earlier. All preparations were tested and insured. Buried beneath the floor of the arena was a layer of solid deathstone, while at regular intervals around the perimeter of the stage there could be found cylinders of the same substance. Should anything untoward appear to be occurring, the switch would be thrown, and those cylinders would be connected to their partners and the underground floor-plan to create a dome of draining energy that would rob any death god in the field temporarily of their powers.

It was simply a precaution, just like she was here to guard against any loss of life. No one had ever died during the trials. But there had certainly been some close calls. And there was no reason to think that record was going to change. The First, Second, and Third seats of the support division were always present at these events. Right now, Retsu-taichou and Yasochika Iemura were also engaged elsewhere in preparing to treat any injuries that might result from this competition.

That left only the judges.

The captains.

Naturally, the people best qualified to determine the worth of a vice-captain were their superiors, in order to serve the needs of the realm. It went without saying that a commander of one of the divisions missing a lieutenant could not reasonably be asked to cross swords with his hopeful aspirants, as this might lead to charges of favoritism. So instead their fellows were called upon, tasked with tendering an honest, untrammeled opinion of the submitted seneschals. There were other factors that disqualified captains from competing. The Commander-General for certain could not be bothered with anything so commonplace as sparring. And the current Kenpachi had no conception of how to fight anyone without trying to kill them. According to him, 'bloodless battle' was an oxymoron. So with four other captains forced to abstain this time around, that left seven to choose from.

A certain officious Eighth division officer had developed a system that allowed for rotating captains to perform the duty as judge. Since Unohana Retsu had not been chosen, she was ready to offer healing for another mixed cadge of cadets from the four brigades. This time around, the group overseen by Division Four's captain had been assigned Shunsui Kyōrakū as the judge. Captain Soifon was selected for the one under Iemasu, and Sōsuke Aizen would be the delegate for Isane's own. After the trials were completed, the representatives of the Fourth would tend to all wounds that had resulted from the explosive efforts of close on a hundred powerful shinigami. The results would then be determined at the judges' discretion.

Considering that the number of contenders in any single trial could reach over fifty, it came as no surprise that the written evaluations did not always include much to say about every individual. Some people simply didn't stand out. On top of that, not every captain was what you might call "chatty". Isane had seen reports that consisted of nothing but the same word written by every name: 'Adequate'. Others might go so far as to say, 'Dazzling', 'Extraordinary', 'The best one this year', 'Phenomenal', 'Four stars', and 'Electrifying'. And at the opposite end of the spectrum, there were those like Byakuya Kuchiki, who noted everything that transpired under their auspices and proceeded to describe it in minute detail. Beautifully written, but still, Isane was secretly glad he would not be active in her display. These reports were subsequently read by the administrators, noted, and then usually shipped off for storage in the imperial archives.

Clean, safe, and orderly. Almost like a well-run hospital. This was undoubtedly one of the most carefully maintained and respected institutions of the Seireitei. It was something they could all take pride in. Even though Isane knew it to be basically grandstanding, little more than a sham in terms of actually concluding who would be given the badge, the valiant efforts of those deluded souls out there served as an example of the best that Soul Society had to offer. They were proud, and alive, and it was her responsibility to keep them that way.

And that was why, when she recognized the impossibly huge reiatsu making its way towards the judge's entrance, Isane Kotetsu felt the most plain and simple horror that a person could possibly know.

* * *

He ducked beneath the rising crisscrossing of bars, a smile on his face, white haori fluttering idly as he walked.

The competitors watched him approach with varying levels of surprise, incredulity, and outright dismay.

On the fringes of the gathered assembly, someone said what they were all thinking.

"Where's Captain Aizen?"

They were all thinking the same things. Something had gone wrong. This wasn't the way it was meant to be. Why was _he_ here?

Then, almost as if the object of their distress could hear what they were all thinking, Gin Ichimaru smiled even wider than before, baring his canines in a singularly intimidating manner.

The scattered pockets of aspiring officers had unconsciously drawn together in a close crowd, like sheep seeking to protect themselves in numbers. And as the wolf approached them, they parted to get out of his way. The captain of Squad Three cut through their lines like a sword through flesh, and the wound closed up around him. At long last, Ichimaru stood alone in a circle at the center of the crowd.

By some odd twist of fate, he was facing Nemu Kurotsuchi.

From behind him, they heard the administrative agent from before shout, "BEGIN!"

A kidō force-field came up around the combat pit, protecting the observers and preventing any attacks from entering or exiting. There would be no help from the sidelines.

Eyelids almost completely shut. A smile on his face. He couldn't be seeing them, right? There was no real risk anyway. It was just a trial. There were safeguards everywhere, and healers to attend them if necessary. They all knew this.

So then why did no one make a move against him?

Even Nemu could feel it. Something was very, very wrong here. Mayuri-sama had ordered her to fight with the person chosen as judge, to display her worth.

And for the first time ever, Nemu found she actually… doubted him.

She doubted her creator's wishes.

What should I do?

_Blood game!_

Very well.

With no more consideration for anything else, she sprang forward, and a naked sword cut through the air.

He moved.

She could see him move, all her phenomenal senses attuned to their maximum. With everything that she had been designed with, at the very least the young being was acutely aware of what she was capable of in terms of power. And before this, she had believed that it was enough to serve any of her master's wishes. It had to be. Because he had made her that way.

But as her cut went wide, and the man's foot plowed into her stomach, Nemu recognized that Mayuri had not built her well enough.

As she soared across the arena, people frantically dodging out of the way, it was this thought that hurt her, far more than any blow.

* * *

"_Where's Captain Aizen?"_

Isane Kotetsu was on her feet, fingers digging into the stone wall before her. She whipped around, and for the first time ever, the lesser members of the Fourth division saw their lieutenant truly angry.

Before any of them could comment, she tore past them, up the steps towards the administrator's seat far above.

_Calm down, Isane. You are behaving erratically. _

I know, dammit, I know! But I have to stop this before it's too late.

The spirit did not offer any more resistance. They both knew what 'too late' might mean.

There had never been any deaths during a lieutenants' trials.

But there had been some close calls.

Most notably, during Captain Gin Ichimaru's first participation.

He had nearly killed three people. The only thing that saved them was having Unohana present to heal their wounds immediately. The administration gave him a reprimand. However, they couldn't quite forbid him from performing his duty in these events again. So since then, certain special dispensations were taken into account whenever the silver-haired death god was chosen to step into the ring.

Those dispensations had not been taken here.

Racing up the steps, the questions bombarded Isane from every conceivable direction. Why was he here? What was going on? Why hadn't anybody _warned_ her? What were the officials thinking, allowing Gin to fight these children without any restrictions placed upon him whatsoever? He was a killer, possibly worse than Kenpachi Zaraki, at least that man wouldn't cut down a person who was already on their knees and beaten. But he would. _HE _would do that and worse if nobody stopped him. Why didn't anybody ever STOP HIM?

Maybe nobody could.

No!

The harried healer shook her shaggy silver head. She wasn't certain why this time was so much worse.

_Because someone you care about is out there now_.

Yes. Her companion had it right. At this instant, Isane couldn't have been more frantic if her own little sister was under the grinning headsman's axe. Nemu was beautiful and deadly and odd, but at heart, she still remained a child in her Neesan's eyes! And that is where I draw the line… I won't let him do what he does to any children, grown-up or not. If I'm going to continue living in this society I never asked to come into, it has to be without having allowed something like this to take place.

Damn you all, and take your rules with you, Isane panted! I've seen enough kids maimed and dying, bleeding out into the dirt and screaming for their mothers! Why do you let it happen? Why do you excuse _every single vicious heartless thing these monsters do?_ Who? Who gave you the right to decide how we are supposed to spend eternity? Take all your monsters and GO LIVE SOMEWHERE ELSE! JUST LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE!

At last she reached the booth. The field that protected the combatants from outside interference also served to enshroud this seated box, to prevent any attempt to manipulate the outcome. Standing within its perimeter were two mages of the Kidō Brigade, charged with allowing those permitted entry to come through. Isane came to a halt before the entrance, breath like cold knives in her throat. Or maybe that was just fear.

"_I am Isane Kotetsu, vice-captain of Squad 4 and acting emergency designee for this trial! LET ME IN!"_ she commanded them.

The pair of sentries only stood across from one another, wrapped in their hoods and cowls. They made no sign of having heard her.

Isane stared at them, mingled fury and frustration causing her shoulders to shake. Raising her fists, she brought them down upon the glowing blue transparent barrier, beating against the durable surface. Still they did not move. Farther down the way, the administrative attendant was sitting with his back to her. He did not respond to her shouts in the slightest.

"_WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?" _the towering death god screamed. _"THIS IS NOT WHAT WE WERE TOLD WOULD HAPPEN! YOU HAVE TO PUT A STOP TO THIS TRIAL AT ONCE!"_

And somewhere out in the arena, over the sound of explosions and clashing swords, a woman screamed.

* * *

Even seeing what became of those who did, the other shinigami were emboldened by Nemu's example to attack their opponent.

Gin didn't even draw his sword. Instead he twirled and spun, brushing up against his assailants briefly, letting their lagging fingers feel contact with his clothing, before pitching them to the dirt as he had that first one.

Members of several different divisions were calling out the names of their zanpakutō or hurriedly reciting the lines of demon art spells. No matter what they tried, though, it made no difference. The grinning ghost eluded their swings and simply skipped away from the blast radii and sealing perimeters. No one had even come close to touching him. And all the while, the bodies kept flying through the air, sent aloft by the merest brush of his hand. It was absolutely extraordinary, and beautiful. Nemu couldn't believe how slow their movements were in comparison to his.

Including her own.

Lying face-down in the dirt, she was forced to a conclusion. There was simply no way to defeat this enemy. He could not be challenged by the people assembled here today. She could not touch him, not with blade, fist or spell. The difference in their capabilities was made clear in that first moment.

And several voices seemed to be clamoring for her attention.

"_Do not dare to disappoint me, wretched thing! If you fail to so much as cause him to break a sweat, I assure you, I will not fail to break YOU!"_

_Get up, get up! Go get him, I want to play the blood game with him! He gets it, he gets the game too, let's go play!_

These both wanted the same thing from her. Something she knew couldn't be done now.

It was the second pair of voices that claimed her attention.

"_Nemu-san, when others focus on killing, they forget to guard. That's why the Eleventh division is always covered with scars. But that's not what we do here. We guard the guardians, when they forget how to take care of anyone, even themselves."_

"_Look at him, child. More than strength and speed, tell me his pleasure. What is he fighting for? And how does he try to achieve it?"_

Nemu watched, while the voices reached out to her thoughts on so many levels.

This last one I _can_ do.

Find an answer. Seek a solution. Determine what it is that he wants, and use that against him. Even if it is nothing more than the sight of blood.

Gin stretched up, and slammed his elbow down on the back of an overextended assailant's neck. Something broke.

When he attacked, where did he aim, and in what way?

A crackling line of binding energy soared towards him. He _caught_ it, and yanked the caster off their feet to send them flying through the air.

When he moved, how much effort did he make?

A falchion blade came down, and Ichimaru stopped it between two fingers. He backhanded the owner sharply, and cast the released sword away.

Did he alter his attacks for men and women? Did he respond differently to assaults from behind?

Two men and a woman acted in conjunction, lunging at their target from different sides. He then grabbed the one slightly ahead of the rest in a headlock and flung him towards the others. The man checked his attack in time, but his partner failed to respond as quickly, and bright blood spattered the sand.

What was he doing?

My answer is…

He's scattering them.

Ichimaru's movements had caused the tight-knit group to break up into fragments once more. Even amidst all the confusion, she recognized that this was no accident. Nemu levered herself up slightly, gripping the hilt of her sword. The enemy was maneuvering them. Why?

_He wants to see where everybody is! It's a game too. Hide and seek!_

Could that be true? Was Gin seeking someone out specifically? There were over thirty people in here with her. And her information on him implied that this captain in particular liked to immobilize and torture his opponents. Yet he had not proceeded to do so, to her or anyone else. He had been given plenty of opportunities. So that means…

_He hasn't found his playmate yet._

Yes. I can see it now.

Kurotsuchi watched the captain's violent dance carefully. Saw him leap and dodge, smiling and tossing them around, mocking their efforts with his casual grace, his cheerful grin, his eyes…

Opened.

It was certain. He had opened them, just for a moment. Maybe no one else had noticed, they were not bending all of their concentration on simply observing him as she was. It hadn't even been long enough for her to see the color, but if I follow his line of sight just then, where did it lead?

To a girl.

A small, plain-faced thing with long black hair. Mayuri-sama had instructed her to memorize the names and faces of all division officers up to Twelfth seat. So she knew that this was Sachiko Fugunushi, Third seat of Division Ten. At that moment, the young woman didn't appear to realize that she had been targeted for whatever reason by Ichimaru, and was attempting to cast a long and complicated kidō spell from a safe distance.

So she did not notice the captain reach down and grasp the hilt of his blade.

I know what he wants now. And when he gets it…

Her own hand tightened around its soul cutter.

That was when she would get her chance.

With small movements and restricted reiatsu, Nemu brought the tip of the short sword over to her wrist.

"Bloom for Master, AkaChan," she breathed softly as the blade drove through her glove and stabbed the flesh beneath.

She continued to stab deeper into herself, but although full half the blade's length was in the wound, it did not pierce through to the other side. Instead the zanpakutō obeyed its mistress' quiet release, and began to transform itself.

Twenty yards away, Gin Ichimaru unsheathed his weapon, Shinsō, and tucked it up his sleeve.

His mouth was stretched in the most disturbing way imaginable, it couldn't be called smiling anymore. Striding forward swiftly, fire and explosions falling all around him, he kicked an attacker's legs out from under him, fired off a huge blast of blue flame from his fist that sent singed people soaring and caused all present to clutch their ears, and in the ensuing chaos…

Nemu heard him clearly say, "Shoot, Shinsō!"

The weapon thrust out, and out, extending past its perceived length with the fluid grace and speed of a falcon slipped off its tethers. Glowing a disturbing white, the captain's shikai shot across the field, faster than anything present.

As if finally sensing the danger, Sachiko Fugunushi looked up from her conjuring.

It took her in the stomach and kept going, dragging the girl along until it pierced the wall as easily as it had flesh and slammed her back against it.

Sachiko's head collided against the stone. She rebounded forward, finally managed to draw in a breath, and screamed.

Nemu saw an opportunity then, and attacked.

* * *

Flailing wildly against the shield, Isane heard that shriek cut across all other noise. It was the sound of someone staring death in the eye. She knew it well. Which could only mean the thing she dreaded was happening right now.

A feeling of heaviness in the air, like a pressure threatening to push her to her knees, let Lieutenant Kotetsu know that the captain had gone to shikai.

_Enough of this! Release me!_

So be it!

Ripping her partner from its sheathe, the shinigami howled, "RUN, ITEGUMO!"

Their conjoined souls flared, power rising free from the chains that had bound it. In a moment the shinigami lieutenant stood invested with all the might of her office. And without question, she turned it upon the barrier that denied her. Bringing up Itegumo, Isane sent it crashing down against the force-field, unleashing the full force of her guardian spirit against that wall.

The spell was cast by two most puissant magicians, and empowered by wards that had been set in place throughout this coliseum ages ago. It could hold against a small platoon of regular shinigami, and even a lieutenant if need be. But there was more than just strength being directed against the barrier. Itegumo's two shorter sabers were invoking their own ability: the power to freeze reishi around her. In terms of combat, this could be used to generate a field that left any opponent immobilized, their muscles locked in rigid spasms; and more, the zanpakutō could convert any energy directed against it, from kidō to Quincy magic and Cero blasts, into a solid, petrified state, completely harmless to anyone. The 'cloud' of spirit particles was altered from its natural malleable form into something more fragile and focused.

And so when Itegumo touched that barrier, the will of its casters to repel all invaders was rendered meaningless, as it became nothing more than a thin wall of transparent glass. With a shout, Isane then unleashed a blaze of power that shattered the obstruction.

Springing into the stadium box, the determined death god was momentarily taken aback by the reaction of both mages. Or rather, the lack thereof. They remained at their posts, but the eyes peering from those face-concealing masks were glazed and vacant. Nothing that had just happened made any impression upon them.

But there was no time to remark upon this mystery. She lunged over to where the agent from Central remained seated, watching what was taking place below. All sound from the stadium had ceased, save for the shrieks of that one tormented woman. Most likely no one was willing to attack that madman now that he was radiating even higher levels of energy than before.

But that was about to end. Unwilling to spare a glance towards what was transpiring beyond this seat, Isane rounded on the rotund bureaucrat, only to be confronted by that same look of stupid incomprehension that adorned the faces of his attendants. What the hell was happening here?

_Focus on the immediate problem, Isane!_

Yes, of course. So where could I find the…

And then she was flying back through the air, colliding painfully with the wall. A power surge! One so enormous that it had completely overwhelmed Itegumo's defensive capabilities; the first thrust had frozen, but then it was forced along by the tidal wave behind it, turning that solid mass into a battering ram that knocked her off her feet. The sword spirit was dazed by the titanic intensity of that aura.

Only one thing could have caused this. And as she slumped to the floor unconscious, Isane heard a nightmare come to life.

"BAN-KAI!"

_To be continued…_


	9. The Trials: Torturous Conditions

Ichimaru stood there grinning, savoring the sound of his victim's terror. It had happened so fast, and now everyone around him was immobilized by the brutal scene. He was clearly intoxicated.

_Now!_

Were anyone to have looked at her, it would have appeared as though Nemu was holding the mere hilt of a sword against her wrist. But now she withdrew it as she sprang forwards, and what came forth was no metal shaft. Sliding out of the hole in her arm was a long crimson lash. A liquid whip, growing and extending, black and red colors shifting along its length.

Not even two seconds had passed since Sachiko was speared, but even that seemed like too much time wasted. Feeling her opportunity slipping away, Nemu dashed at dazzling speed across the arena. AkaChan kept drawing from her veins, the blood surging to form it. Hair streaming behind her, the deadly maiden focused on her distracted target, and halfway to him her wrist snapped out.

The whip grew. Two meters, ten, thirty, the tip finally emerged, and with a crack like a lightning-split tree, the keen edge of that lash licked out across the cleared space between them and caught Gin Ichimaru on his left cheek.

All saw the captain's head jerk slightly.

In the next instant Shinsō retracted to his hand, its victim collapsing on the floor. Long thin fingers came up to disbelievingly touch the spot where he had been struck. When they drew away, there was the faintest trace of blood upon them.

Ichimaru's head then turned and looked upon his assailant.

His smile was gone.

A deadly serious Nemu Kurotsuchi watched him in a languid stance, AkaChan's coils winding slowly in a possessive manner around her body, a serpent to match the one she now faced.

Mission accomplished, Mayuri-sama.

Gin glanced down at his fingers once again, examining the scarlet wetness. The rest of the candidates watched this nerve-wracking display. Then he looked up once more.

And grinned.

"Ban-kai!"

Held loosely in his grip point downward, the innocuous soul cutter flashed out again, and buried itself in the earth. There was a moment of silence.

The death god captain's spirit erupted, howling like the one and only God of Death.

There came a flash of light from the super-powerful deity's body, so intense they had to look away or shield their eyes lest they be blinded. The ground around his feet tore open, and something came forth to encase him. Everyone present was blown away by that release or went to their knees. The precipitous spike in his aura did not diminish, but after a few seconds the blazing illumination faded.

The master of Squad Three was no longer in evidence. Instead, what met their astonished, fear-filled gazes was a small mountain growing up out of the floor.

Further examination revealed that this was no mere formation of earth. It was a conjunction of weapons. There looked to be like nothing less than a dozen enormous jagged spearheads which had risen about that spot, their edges clashing together as they formed a cone fifty feet high that completely enveloped the caster. The tips of these barbs stuck out in all directions, forming a spiked crown of sorts on top. Not a single crack could be seen in this armor. There was not even enough space at the edges to slide a piece of paper through. It was like unto a funhouse mirror room that had gone crazy, and everyone could see themselves clearly reflected in its polished steel sides.

Nothing else happened.

Several people glanced around, perhaps expecting some kind of intervention from the authority figures at this point. A few even began edging towards this looming configuration of twisted knives.

Nemu remained where she was, wary now of the threat this posed. The force field around this arena was still active. Isane-san had disappeared, presumably to learn why the session had not been halted. There were events transpiring outside this battlefield that could yet determine its outcome. But for now, the majority of her attention was focused upon that menacing spire.

At last one of her comrades, a tall veteran from the Sixth, drew close enough to the distorted mirror that he could actually reach out and touch it. Before him, his own pale, sweating face stared back. The look in his eyes was not pleasant.

And as he watched, Gin Ichimaru stepped out from behind him.

Several people screamed, none of them louder than this man. The captain was visible in the reflection, smiling like he hadn't any cares whatsoever. But in the real world, there was no one to be seen. The fighter whipped his head around to the spot where Gin would have occupied, sword raised in readiness. However nothing was there to see. It was only in the side of that complex conglomeration of blades that their demonic tormenter stood laughing, though no sound emerged.

Then in front of their eyes, that impossible figure lazily raised his sword, now at a regular katana's length, preparing to cut the soldier from the Sixth down.

Before he could, though, his prey struck first, swinging his blade in a deadly arc through the space where the invisible fighter must be standing.

As he did, blood splashed out.

The man collapsed with a scream, sword falling from his fingers. All down his chest ran a diagonal wound, opening him from shoulder to hip. Ichor leaked out with his terrible shrieks, while standing above him in the mirror, Gin still had not made any further moves, only stood there with his weapon raised on high. Then he let the blade slowly drop to rest back at his side. A second later, his uncomprehending victim slumped over. His face hit the steel wall with a loud smack, and he slid down it, mouth leaving a trail of blood on its otherwise pristine surface.

Gin appeared to say something, though no sound came forth.

It almost looked like, 'Makaisō'.

Hellish Spear.

After this it was madness.

Maybe some survival instinct had kicked in, but the terrible petrification slipped from the limbs of all the other aspiring vice-captains in that ring. No longer did they look for anyone else to save them. These were some of the bravest and strongest people to be found in the whole of the Gotei 13. Not for nothing had their captains looked to them to step into the most prestigious position in the divisions after their own. It was not a question of scoring high, or pleasing any faceless overseers. The impetus to fight was now the simple, honest realization that if they did not do so, they were as good as dead. This was what they had been training for all these years, to fight for their lives against the wickedest souls that existed in all the depths of creation. No matter that this thing was one of their own superior officers. Right now, it was kill or be killed, and let them suffer the consequences afterwards.

Some of the shinigami charged boldly forward, diverse weapons screaming out defiance with their masters. Within the mirror-bright spike, their silver ghost passed into the edge of one colossal spearhead, only to emerge not in the one adjoining it, but in another on the opposite side. He strolled casually about the battle, appearing and disappearing from every angle, even at the top of the great metal teepee. When some people tried to attack the spots he seemed to occupy in the real world, they fell with cries of agony as their bodies spurted blood from wounds that appeared out of nowhere.

In the midst of all this, Nemu crouched on one knee, her lash held against her cheek.

What is happening?

_I don't know, but it's stupid. They're not even getting close to him._

Why? I know a captain's ban-kai is a most dangerous thing, but I can see no explanation for how he is even injuring them.

_Yeah. Why won't he come after us? WE'RE the ones who made him bleed._

Agreed. Why has he not attacked me yet?

A small squad had reached the fortress of spears. They joined ranks, and all together, began to cry out the words to a Level 60 Hadō attack.

In the side of the shaft, Ichimaru danced around them, apparently screaming with laughter. But these stalwart sorcerers paid the phantom no mind, and concentrated their attention on the palisade itself, not the smirking killer flirting in its depths.

When the final syllable of the spell was uttered, a swirling green gas bloomed in the midst of their formation. They flung out their arms with a shout, and the corrosive cloud grew. It rose up into the air, and then enveloped the released ban-kai at its highest point, seeking to infiltrate any microscopic cracks that might lie in its shell.

A good idea, Nemu decided.

Until the spell-casters began to scream.

Their skin was bubbling, she saw now. Some of them clutched at their throats, gasping and choking while their clothes dissolved away from them in tatters. They collapsed in steaming bloody heaps, howling for mercy, begging for the pain to stop.

Interesting.

Glancing up, green eyes noticed that the correspondingly colored mist had disappeared without a trace.

Ah. That explains it.

_What?_

Reflections, she supplied back.

_How come?_

He hasn't made any attacks against them. _They _have. Everyone who attempts to cut the image of Ichimaru, or assaults the pillar directly, is automatically inflicted with the same injury they attempted to produce.

_Wow! That is so MEAN!_

A perfectly cruel defense. I wonder what its limits might be?

Further away, apparently someone on the other side of the hall had not noticed what became of the others, and attempted to cast a binding spell against the fortress. When it struck, the spell vanished, and its caster suddenly found herself encased in glowing red shackles that bound her hand and foot, leaving the woman lying helpless on the floor, unable to break free.

Demon magic, zanpakutō, physical attacks; they all come back against their wielders. That much was visible to her carefully distanced gaze. Aside from those already seriously wounded, Nemu was the only person not engaged in flinging herself against the psychopath and his diabolical juggernaut.

_Do you think this means he can't hurt anyone himself while he's like this?_

I have my doubts. But if all this is true, I ask again: what can we do to neutralize this power? Tunnel under the ban-kai to reach inside? I am almost 100% certain that it extends below the floor, but only to a certain extent. The deathstone layer is still beneath us. If we delved deep enough, we might be able to use the deathstone to protect ourselves from his attacks.

_When you say 'we', you don't mean me and you, do you?_

No.

Her gaze flickered around the area. Wherever she looked there were people bleeding and in pain, clutching wounds that appeared out of nowhere. None of their injuries appeared fatal, though. Perhaps Gin was still just toying with them, not allowing the full force of their attacks to be felt, because having their own strength turned back on them would be sufficient to kill them instantly. This way he got to enjoy himself for longer, and everyone visible was his potential prey. Her comrades were tearing themselves to pieces in their attempts to destroy this dire threat, without even bothering to understand it.

Comrades.

'_Lead by example, Nemu-san.'_

Aren't I doing that now? If they only refrained from attacking as I am, they would be safe.

'_Haven't I told you that people don't always think clearly in the middle of a battle? Sometimes you have to slap them in the face and shout at them to get them to listen to you. That's the only way to save them.'_

If I make any sort of attack, he can turn it against me.

'_Nemu-san…'_

_LOOK OUT!_

In the far-off side of the spire facing her, she suddenly saw the image of Gin Ichimaru drop down to loom over where she crouched.

The two tiny figures remained that way for a moment. Nemu did not bother to look where she knew he was not. Instead she kept all her senses trained on the reflected confrontation in the distance. Within its depths, the scientist's daughter saw one fine-boned hand reach out to caress her cheek. Her skin registered nothing. As she had suspected, apparently he could not reach them to attack.

The crazed _kitsune _looked up then, still holding onto her, and gazed out from the confines of his steel womb. He looked Nemu right in the eyes.

His lips moved, and she saw him shape the words.

"**I see you!"**

Then in his fist, Shinsō swiped through the air.

And down Nemu's cheek, blood began to flow.

She bolted instantly, seeking to put distance between them. Her hypothesis was proven incorrect. He could hurt her, even if she made no move against him. Of course. What good would a weapon like this be if it relied entirely upon the opponent? An intelligent adversary would recognize the limitations early on and use them to their advantage. As she thought this, zipping through the carnage that still raged throughout her surroundings, a line of fire traced across Nemu's back, cloth and flesh parting to release the blood within. She could feel AkaChan responding to this, chanting _Blood game, blood game! _over and over. And a part of her was thrilled as well. But as the muscles in her calf were pierced by an intangible thrust, she recognized also the peril that she faced.

He intends to disable me, and leave me to his nonexistent mercy. Just like the other girl. I wonder why he chose her first? Is there something there I could use?

I must use what I know.

"_Lead them to safety, Nemu-san. Save them from themselves."_

Yes, Nee-san. I remember. The duty of a lieutenant.

Still clutching her whip, Nemu resolved on a new tactic. With Gin's cuts still appearing all over her body, she sped over to where a young Fifth seat from the Thirteenth was attempting to stagger forth to the battle with blood streaming into his eyes. Before he could take another step, AkaChan licked out to wind around his ankle, and he pitched forward onto his face. Speeding to his side, she dropped down, and clamped her fingers around one wrist. Small needles extended from her fingernails to pierce his skin. He passed out from the venom only two heartbeats later. The same sensation did not occur in her body. This realization came moments before another shallow cut opened along her abdominals. Only attacks directed at _him_. Good.

Then she was flitting about the room, administering her drowsy ministrations to everyone she could reach. Sometimes she had to resort to restraining kidō, or simple brute force, like a blow to the head. AkaChan and her mistress cooperated to deflect all attacks that were being sent towards the captain.

When about a third of them were incapacitated, apparently Gin had had enough.

This time the wound was in her gut, and so severe that Nemu had to stop moving or risk damaging her internal organs. Only ten feet away from the mirror-shield she collapsed and lay on her side. Standing in the shining steel before her, Captain Ichimaru wore a faint look of tension around his eyes. The smirk that still curved his lips was now more of a snarl. They twisted, shaping words, and a weight of Bakudō slammed on her, its disabling magic like an iron weight against her back. No further action was taken against the other sleeping shinigami, however. Apparently Gin could only be in one place at a time to inflict his own attacks. And torturing people who weren't awake held no appeal. She had deprived him of some of his entertainment.

But there was still so much more to be had.

With a last scornful look that promised further damage later, his reflection then turned and walked away.

As soon as his attention was elsewhere, Nemu wrapped AkaChan around her waist. In moments, the blood ceased to flow from her stomach wound. It still hurt abominably, worse than any of the other injuries he had inflicted upon her. But perhaps he had failed to notice that she was not bleeding as copiously as one might have expected. The benefits of having a partner one could depend upon.

_I'm not tired. Why are you stopping?_

He has apparently lost interest in me.

And that most likely meant he would return to his primary objective.

From Kurotsuchi's position with her face pressed to the dirt, she watched as another angle reflected the sight of the destructive demon moving to stand beside the still sobbing form of Sachiko Fugunushi. The girl had managed to crawl a few yards away from where she had fallen. Gin was keeping pace with her now as she attempted to reach the exit which was barred to all present. His smile was back full force. He looked as happy as a man seeing his true love again for the first time in months.

The same expression was on his face when he cut her leg off at the knee.

The Tenth's Third seat stopped trying to get away, and rolled over on her back, pulling the bleeding stump to her chest and howling miserably. She doesn't even know what's going on, Nemu realized. That must contribute to his enjoyment. Indeed, Ichimaru looked positively joyous, right before he took the left ear.

It didn't stop there.

He was carving the helpless amputee like she were a pig, and him a butcher.

I know how you feel, Sachiko.

Many was the time she had experienced the feeling of Mayuri's knives slicing into her, questing for some intangible answer to a question he did not care to share with her. Nemu accepted this always, without the slightest protest. She would not seek to deter her father's curiosity. Nothing mattered more than seeing his vision fulfilled.

What more can I do here, then? What is my purpose, Mayuri-sama?

"_Don't disgrace me, I believe that was made quite clear!"_

And what else?

_Blood, blood, blood, let's play!_

In what way?

"_Don't let him do this, Nemu-san. I beg you. Put a stop to this travesty before it's too late."_

I cannot think of how to defeat this opponent.

"_Useless lackwit!"_

I humbly apologize, Mayuri-sama.

_Blood, dummy, it's blood you need!_

I cannot. He is beyond my ability to injure.

"_My little one, I had hoped for more from you than this. I know, better than anyone, that you are more than just a sword to kill."_

What am I, then?

"_Nemu-san, you are like me. You are a protector."_

Protector?

_You are a shield, my dear, one your father crafted for himself. But when he is not present, then you must decide whom your body will take the blows for. _

Yes. I bear wounds, so that others will not have to. I act, to prevent the pain of others. Mayuri-sama's, and Isane-san's. She taught me as much. Do to me what you will, I will suffer through it all. Come, do your worst, Ichimaru. I can accept any pain.

_Not pain! Would you listen to me? I'm saying, it's BLOOD!_

Pardon?

_Agh! Do I have to do all the thinking? Look! It's a magic mirror, like in a storybook! And if you don't want to see what's in the mirror, then you…_

…Break it?

_NO! Cover it up!_

With what? I have nothing to bind it with. Perhaps I could skin myself…

_ME! Use ME! Use our BLOOD!_

Blood?

_Look there!_

Nemu did as directed. A few yards away, the first man to attack Ichimaru's ban-kai remained slumped and insensate on the ground beside it. His blood was smeared over it.

Blood…

_It isn't an attack! His magic only reflects pain and death, not anything else. And he can't hurt what he can't see in the mirror! We can use it!_

So then. I must…

"_Get up, dolt!"_

"_Rise, Nemu Kurotsuchi."_

"_Stand and accept our duty, my sister."_

_Go get that big sissy!_

AkaChan then sprang up and wrapped around the gray block of demon magic that restrained Nemu. The whip dug into that heavy weight, shouting its defiance. Though cast by a master sorcerer, the spell was not as strong as it could have been, since it had been invoked without the full incantation. And its assailant was no weakling herself.

Ichimaru's spell shattered, and Nemu scrambled to her feet.

He was intent on his work, but still, he noticed. A moment later, Gin's image stood once more at the modified masterpiece's back, a frown of displeasure at being interrupted clearly evident.

She looked up to meet his hidden gaze squarely in the mirror.

There were no words spoken between them. Instead, the cruel spirit lifted his blade once more without hurry.

In response, his intended victim wrapped a loop of her own soul cutter around her left elbow. She did not appear to be paying him any attention.

Gin raised an eyebrow curiously.

Grimly calm, without hesitation Nemu then gave a swift jerk.

Like piano wire, the blade-sharp lash tightened.

And it sliced off her arm.

The appendage fell to the dirt, and Ichimaru stared at her like she had lost her mind.

Then AkaChan retracted into its handle until only a thin red knife protruded forth, and it was this that the dour young woman drove through her skin, right above the amputation. The blade went in, and then…

Blood thundered forth.

It was a torrent of red fluid, more than any body could contain. And it kept coming. Standing before her enemy's solitary fort, Nemu trained that carnation-colored deluge on the image that stared back at her. Ichimaru, herself, the whole room and everyone in it; in seconds, it had all been covered by a sheet of dark opaque lifeblood.

The flow cut off. Nemu watched appraisingly.

In the scarlet-stained expanse before her, she could see a tinted reflection on the slick surface, showing herself staring right back.

No one else stood around her.

_Sweet! Let's do the rest!_

In a flash of shunpō, they were off. The blood-goddess spun around that jumbled blade hideout. For just a moment, she saw Gin Ichimaru's raging features next to her own, his eyes still shut in wrath. But then her guardian spirit was surging once more, and the blood was pouring out like a river, dashing away that hate-filled image before it could strike. She went round and around its base, until the lower reaches were soaked in gore. From there she leapt into the air, bounding up to attain the highest reaches of that deathly abode. Nemu aimed her cannon of benign living paint at it. No attacks were launched in return. The experiment was apparently a success. Swift as only she could be, in just a handful of seconds, the entire face of that incomprehensible fortress was besmirched, stained the color of death itself.

Nemu landed twenty feet away, taking refuge behind a low boulder. She was feeling light-headed, but weirdly satisfied. All around her, shocked silent faces stared at the construct dripping with blood. The members of the other divisions had ceased in their desperate struggles upon witnessing that horrific testament of strength. Now they gaped in shock.

From the safety of her refuge, Nemu ripped a long length of fabric from her sleeve and wrapped it tightly above the joint where her arm had been. Only then did she bother to withdraw AkaChan.

_Fun fun fun, that was so much fun! Do it again! Let's do it again!_

She did not respond to the blade's anxious pleading. Instead the winded warrior reached into her tunic, and withdrew a small mirror tucked inside. Though slightly cracked, it still remained functional, a gift from a strange vocal golden-haired woman she had met during a funeral. Holding this implement up, she brought it past the lip of her shelter slowly, carefully angling it to see what lay beyond without exposing herself.

Ichimaru's ban-kai stood silent. No attacks were made. Not a single injury to speak of.

There was no sign of the captain anywhere.

I would seem to have nullified him.

She closed her eyes with a sigh, bringing her remaining arm up to cover her brow.

A slight tremble shook the ground.

A premonition of danger, and then…

From out of the earth before her, a sharp-edged spearhead shot straight up into the air. No more than ten feet tall, it was a miniature of the vast parent.

Staring hungrily down at her, Gin Ichimaru had come to keep his promise.

He drew back his blade, and unable to dodge, Nemu flung her arms up instinctively to protect herself.

It ended.

* * *

Isane came back to herself with a gasp, already scrambling forth, remembering her mission. That soul-numbing presence was still evident. No way to pick out anyone else's through it, to tell if they were already dead or still fighting. Didn't matter. Nobody here could beat that thing. Gin Ichimaru regularly sparred with Kenpachi Zaraki. He was the only captain willing and crazy enough to do so. And whenever he went ban-kai, he won. Zaraki would always drag himself into the Fourth covered with wounds, either unable or unwilling to find a way to breach the other man's defenses.

What could a pack of kids do against that?

Not them. Me. It's my privilege to keep them all safe.

And there's only one way to do it.

In the next instant she had reached the dumbfounded agent's seat, and she pulled his kimono open, searching for something.

Ah-HA! There it is!

Isane snatched up a small black tube, the key for activating this arena's fail-safe measures. Turning to the stone bench set before him, she passed a hand over it. The tabletop glowed, and from it there grew a black pyramid. Without hesitation, she found the hole in its side, inserted the key, and turned it.

Looking up at last, her harried brown eyes caught a glimpse of a mountain covered in blood.

The next instant the pit's ring of black deathstone cylinders had sunk into their bases, and a field of negative energy engulfed everything inside under a pall of hungry gobbling force, enough to reduce even a captain to the level of the Rukongai's meanest stray.

Gin's ban-kai wavered, twisting like a mirage under the desert sun.

Then it vanished, and where it had risen down in that barren landscape, Ichimaru once more manifested in the world.

Isane could have fainted, she was so relieved. It was ended.

A second later, the first screams of pain started.

Realization set in. They need help! Quickly she withdrew the key, and below, the emergency measures were disabled, allowing full spirit powers to abound once more.

Without having to be told, her division members vaulted over the railing and ran to their fallen brethren, spells and medical tools already coming out. Halting blood flow, tending to burns, neutralizing any disabling wards; this was their mission. Nothing could deter them. And while she knew that her place was below, helping her fellows in their life-saving efforts, for some reason Vice-Captain Kotetsu remained where she was.

In some perverse way, she found that she could not take her eyes off him.

A wide berth was given to the solitary soul standing at the center of that carnage. From up in the balcony, Isane watched in fascination and outrage as Ichimaru stood idly scratching his head.

You…! YOU…!

And as if he could hear what she was not even able to think, he turned around, directing his veiled gaze in her direction.

At finding a look of outrage on the lanky lieutenant's face, a wolfish smile twisted his lips.

That grin said it all. She knew then that there was nothing she could do to touch him here. His position protected him, along with a host of other threats.

When the next-highest ranked officer in that room made no move to detain him, Gin Ichimaru then shrugged casually, turned on his heel, and sauntered out the way he came in. Total authority. Absolute power. Pure sin. The most egregiously wrong soul she had ever known made his way from the scene of his latest crime, unchallenged and unrepentant.

Isane remembered her obligations then, and horror clutched at her heart. _Nemu-san!_ Her long legs then moved in a blur, and she materialized from seemingly out of nowhere at the infant fighter's side.

What she saw there made her want to kill Gin Ichimaru with her own hands.

The daughter of Mayuri Kurotsuchi continued to wear a look of uninvolved disinterest, even though she was bleeding from several places. Her left arm ended in a stump just below the elbow, and only a tourniquet kept that wound from spilling blood all over her guardian's clothes. Isane knelt beside her, tears gathering in her eyes, teeth gritted against the brutality and injustice of it all. She reached up trembling fingers, and touched Nemu's cheek.

At this tender caress, vacant eyes came over to her face.

"He hesitated," the girl murmured. "Just before the power drained, I saw him…"

Confusion, possibly caused by a head wound. "Nemu-san, look in my eyes. Tell me who I am."

A brightness grew in those green depths.

"Isane-neesan," she murmured.

"Yes," the healer whispered.

Nemu glanced over her shoulder, then back again.

"These wounds are not fatal. My zanpakutō is actively preventing the worst of the blood loss. You should turn your attention to Sachiko Fugunushi from the Tenth. She received the worst of the damage this evening."

"Who?" Isane blinked miserably.

"Vice-Captain!"

She looked up, to find two of her squadron standing anxiously beside her.

"Ma'am," one spoke in urgent tones. "We need your help immediately! One of the Tenth division is going into some kind of anaphylactic shock from the reiatsu. She's been cut to pieces, and I don't think we have what it takes to save her. We need you!"

"I…"

A refusal died halfway from her heart to her lips. Isane Kotetsu stood up then, and gestured down to the girl prostrate at their feet. "Administer first aid here, and see her transferred to the division hospital as soon as possible. Bring as many people back as you can! And send a hell butterfly to Captain Unohana immediately! Tell her what's happened, everything you've seen! I want charges brought against that monster NOW!"

They bowed to her will, and with a last heart-felt look at her adopted sibling, she dashed over to where they had indicated the most grievous case could be found. What remained of this child was pitifully heart-breaking. As she brought her extraordinary talent at saving lives to bear, something seemed to be nagging at her memory. At last it came to her. She knew this woman. This was Sachiko, the girlfriend of the recently departed Lieutenant Arakaki. Not two months ago she had stood at Isane's back, screaming at the medic to save her lover's life.

And I failed him.

But I won't fail you, Sachiko-san. Or you, Nemu-san. I promise. You are not going to die today. I am going to bring you back, and then you are going to get what you deserve.

Because he's not going to get away with this, the incensed physician thought. Not this time! I'm going to see that he pays for it, they can't possibly turn a blind eye to all this! It's not like all the times before, we have dozens of eye-witnesses. I won't stay quiet for it, he's gone too far, there are rules in place for a reason, and if Gin Ichimaru thinks he can flaunt them at his leisure, then he is going to learn what happens to those who go against the system!

You challenge the laws of the Seireitei, and captain or no, you are going to be…!

* * *

"What do you want to have happen here, Lieutenant Kotetsu?"

Standing in the center of the most heavily-guarded complex in all of Soul Society, Isane stared disbelievingly at the person who had addressed her. The grim-faced men and women who composed the Central Chamber of 46 gazed right back, no emotion but stern admonition written all over their faces.

"Sir," she responded, fighting to keep her voice calm and level, "I do not believe my wishes have any bearing on the crime that has been committed, nor the clear response that is set into our laws. Outside of extraordinary circumstances, even a captain is not permitted to callously butcher the members of our ranks. One girl is alive only because Captain Unohana was able to arrive in time, and even then, she was so severely injured that she will never be able to engage in combat again, when all she wanted to do was serve out in the capacity left to her by someone she loved!"

"Personal feelings do not enter into our decisions, Kotetsu-fukutaichou," one gray-haired and coldly prim woman announced as if she had heard only the last sentence and nothing before it.

"And there is significant confusion as to what actually transpired yesterday," another announced pedantically.

"Confusion?" She slipped a little there, allowing some of the contempt she felt to color that word. "Yes, we were all confused when Gin Ichimaru intruded on a ceremony that was meant to be overseen by Captain Aizen, and proceeded to use his ban-kai on a group of people who thought they were only there to demonstrate their skills in combat, not to be slaughtered wholesale!"

"Sōsuke Aizen was called away unexpectedly to treat with high delegates of the Quincy race in the mortal realm," one of the oldest members of the Chamber, from before even her time, spoke from his seat high up in the balcony. "Captain Ichimaru offered to replace him at the last minute. This was all properly submitted and notified well before these actions you speak of took place."

"But WE weren't notified of it!" They aren't listening, I have to make them see! "And it was more than just that! Something was done to your own emissary and the Kidō Corps sent there to oversee the trials! I don't know what it was, but even after they recovered, it was clear that they had been affected somehow! Gin _must_ have done it, there's no credible explanation otherwise!"

"We are working to determine the exact nature of their ailment. That is none of your concern, lieutenant, and we must warm you that such unfounded speculation on your part is tantamount to official misconduct. Is there any evidence that Captain Ichimaru was behind the malady suffered by our agent?"

Her stomach was sick, and there was the taste of bile in her throat.

"No."

He continued. "And you freely admit that you did not directly see for yourself what actually caused the captain to attack the aspirants."

Damn you all, what kind of cause could excuse _this? _But she forced herself to say it. "No."

"Thank you. You may step down, then."

She did so, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

The hoary head turned now to her right. "Can you offer any explanation for these events, as well as your own actions, sir?"

And then _he _stirred, and stretched casually in his seat.

"Well, now," Gin Ichimaru drawled, "I honestly wish I could tell ya for sure what went on last night. But y'know, my mind's a bit fuzzy in that respect. However, if you want my unvarnished opinion, seems to me that everything started to go bad when that weird little angel cut me with her whip. Yup, that's the last thing I remember clearly."

There was a faint stirring and mumbling from the ranks of the Council, and several of them conversed quietly with one another. At last, one of the junior members spoke. "You are implying that the attack from the experimental entity's weapon had some kind of unwanted affect on you? Perhaps some chemical agent that was responsible for the episode that followed?"

"NONSENSE!"

Mayuri Kurotsuchi came to his feet, ignoring the guards who moved to stand between him and the venerable assembly. "There was no such thing in my creation's blood that could have affected the captain in this way! I made sure to include only what was reasonable considering the opponent she was intended to fight!"

"And yet it was Captain Aizen whom you expected her to face last evening," one of the noble dignitaries was quick to point out.

The painted alchemist sniffed disdainfully. "Do you think me so obtuse? I modified her body to favor fighting all of the captains, Aizen included, in case something unscheduled happened! And I stand by the assertion that none of the patented drugs which are present in her bodily fluids could have precipitated the oddly lucid berserker rage that grinning fool is trying to foist off on all of you! I can't be the only person in the room too intelligent to fall for such unsophisticated sophistry, can I?"

They didn't like that last bit. Isane could tell, and that horrible empty feeling in the pit of her stomach began to grow. They were losing here. Without a doubt.

It was the Fourth division captain who spoke up then, in her quiet determined voice. "There is no evidence of any foreign agents in Ichimaru-taichou's system."

In response Gin only crossed his arms, and shrugged. "Must've been destroyed when the emergency preventative measures were activated." He then rounded and flashed a sick smirk towards Isane. "Really owe you for that, Isane-san. I'd hate to think what else I mighta done if you hadn't been there to throw the switch and all."

SCREAM AND DIE, PIG! That was the only thought that had actual clarity tumbling around in her head at this moment. But the fury was calmed when the woman she respected most in all of time and space spoke up once more.

"According to several witnesses who had unobstructed views of the entire affair, it was only due to the actions of Nemu Kurotsuchi that full a third of the victims were spared from receiving even more serious injuries than the ones they had."

"Which she accomplished by attacking them," a short, stout man said accusingly, "and by forcibly administering a drug of previously unknown origin. I trust you can see why we have our concerns about the veracity of Captain Ichimaru's suggestion."

Mayuri was shaking so badly he looked as if he might whip out his own ban-kai on the spot. Before that could happen, Unohana stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. Without taking his venomous golden eyes off the man who had spoken, the livid genius allowed himself to be guided back to his seat beside her.

This went on for another twenty minutes, but most of it was filled with pontificating and unnecessary repetition of things that had already been said. In the end, the Central Chamber made its decision.

"There is insufficient proof to warrant our taking any disciplinary action at this time. Captain Ichimaru has agreed to submit a formal apology to the heads of the divisions who were affected by his loss of control. Until such time as new and compelling evidence comes to light, we will consider this matter settled."

They were all dismissed then, and the Chamber of 46 was emptied. Mayuri stormed off immediately, escorted by two armed wardens of the Second division. Ichimaru followed afterwards. He was allowed to leave without so much as a guard to accompany him.

In the end, only Unohana and her lieutenant remained sitting next to one another.

Isane stared straight ahead. There was blood surging in her ears, and her heartbeat sounded loud and disturbing to her. A sheen of cold sweat made her cheeks glisten in the bright lights of that room.

A hall of justice, they called it.

She put her face in her hands and wept. "I promised her… it would be different… this time." When Unohana gripped one of her hands tightly, for once Isane took no comfort from it, and shied away.

"Isane-san," the grand healer spoke gently. "I should have warned you earlier. You've seen how they react to a lieutenant position going vacant. Asking them to vacate a captain's seat, for any reason not deemed absolutely crucial to the affairs of the realm, is like suggesting they cut off one of their own fingers. Souls with a captain's power are not easy to come by, you know that. It would not be in the best interests of Soul Society to lose any of its top warriors at this time, especially with the questions surrounding how the last lieutenant died remaining unanswered. That would cause the balance of power to tilt to the other side's favor. Do you see?"

Isane leapt up and ran.

Like her soul cutter's release command, she tore out of the room, shoving past the guards outside, following the curve of the halls to reach the outside, she had to get out of this place, it was all too much, she had to GET AWAY!

Her racing feet finally brought her into the early morning dawn, and there she ground to a halt.

Before her, Gin Ichimaru turned from conversing with his vice-captain and looked at her.

He was still smiling.

Isane froze. Hatred like she had only rarely felt surged through her veins.

Then the white-robed horror skipped lightly forward, until he was standing nose to nose with her. In this close proximity, she could smell his reiatsu, and it was like the scent of a wound gone bad. Vaguely she recognized that the two of them were exactly the same height.

Gin suddenly bent down a little bit, and thrust his chin forward to stare up into her dark brown eyes. His own remained all but closed.

"Lieutenant I-sane Ko-tet-su," he whispered, and a hideous thrill went up her spine, like facing down a tiger. A white one. The beast studied her intently for a few moments, and it took every ounce of her self-restraint to keep from shoving him, slapping him, spitting in his face! Because she remembered quite clearly what they would do to her if she did.

And he knew it, damn him! But the hatred was still clearly delineated in the curl of her lip and furrowing of her brow.

Upon seeing it, the man-like demon grinned even wider.

"We make a good match, don'tcha think? Folks who didn't know better might think we was brother and sister. If'n you ever feel lonely or wanna talk about anything, just drop on by. I'll treat you right, make no mistake."

To this, Isane replied back in a hoarse whisper, "You're a pig, Ichimaru-taichou."

He enjoyed that. She could tell, by the way his insane grin widened to reveal teeth that would have done a fox proud.

Then he tilted his head to look past her trembling form.

Behind them, Unohana had stepped out into the cool new day. The expression on her face could not be confused with anything but a warning. Upon seeing it, the First seat of Squad Three righted himself, and covering his mouth with the back of his hand, he yawned dramatically.

"Careful on your way home, now."

He left then, with his adjutant trailing miserably in his shadow.

* * *

Unohana took her drained lieutenant back to the main infirmary of their division to check on her patient.

As soon as they stepped in the door, they heard the screaming.

Rushing to the mending ward, both officers were confronted by the sight of Mayuri Kurotsuchi holding his injured daughter up in the air one-handed by the throat. There were beds scattered about, and several low-ranked shinigami crouched fearfully in the eaves, some of them supporting other injured members of that terrible fiasco, rescued out of their cots.

"Useless DOLT!" he was rasping in that high, cracked voice of his. "I gave you the best of everything, even my own blood to call your own, and _how do you repay me?_ _By allowing some half-blind clown to make a fool of me, in front of everyone!_ DAMN YOUR EYES!"

His thumb was digging into her neck. Nemu was facing the ceiling, eyes closed, like none of this was happening. Her one hand was still hanging at her side, unresisting. She said not a word.

And Isane had taken enough for one night.

Brushing past her captain, she put all of her spiritual power into screaming, "DROP HER THIS INSTANT, YOU MANIAC!"

Several people staggered and fell from that cry, or clapped their hands to their ears, but Captain Kurotsuchi only rotated one bulging eye in her direction.

Nemu's lids sprang up too.

She looked over at her solitary friend, facing down her captain-father for no one else's sake but hers.

And a single tear fell.

"Isane-ne…"

Mayuri dashed her to the floor, causing Nemu to scream out loud. He stood over her crumpled form, teeth digging into his bottom lip 'til it drew blood. At a subtle gesture from Captain Retsu, all remaining squad members fled, carrying their charges when necessary.

"YOU!" the madman swore at his coughing offspring. "Had you not failed to report your recording functions being damaged, I could have submitted detailed evidence of what actually went on yesterday! Instead you chose to hide this from me! FROM ME, THE ONE WHO GAVE YOU LIFE! YOU WRETCHED EXCUSE FOR A SENTIENT BEING, HOW DARE YOU DEFY MY WISHES!"

He stood there, panting and crazed.

And crying.

Mayuri's face was streaked with tears.

"They called you _deficient!_" He sobbed. "They actually dared to imply that I had made you poorly. But it's not true! I gave you a part of my _being!_ If you are deficient, then so am I! That's what they were trying to tell me. I received the notice after the commission ended. The Council Chamber will not consider using you as a template for designing further lieutenants. 'Unreliable', they called it. They recanted their promise of funding, denied my exhibition permit, and forbade me to do any further research into customized lieutenants for the others. FORBADE ME! They said I should work harder to live up to the expectations and reputation of my office, _but I know what they were thinking, indeed I do!_ _God-damn Urahara! He'd never have done anything like this, would he? Just Mayuri! Maggot-Nest Mayuri! Mayuri the Madman, they call me when I'm not five feet away, not realizing I'm hiding in the walls! What do I…?"_

Kurotsuchi stopped. His shoulders were heaving up and down, and he held out his hands toward Nemu.

"What do I do now?"

He's really crying, Isane thought dumbly. Staring disbelieving at this impossible sight, she felt an absurd sense of guilt, because she and her sister had indeed referred to the mad scientist captain by such terms in the past, even giggling when they did it.

I didn't think he could cry anymore.

In the midst of this emotionally charged scene, Unohana stepped forth, features compassionate and concerned.

To her distraught colleague, she said kindly, "Heal her."

"Eh?" That garishly outfitted head swung over, keen eyes staring into their counterpart's midnight blue ones. "_Heal_ her?"

Unohana simply nodded.

Mayuri tilted his cap curiously. "Why should I?"

He almost sounded like a kid there.

And Unohana Retsu knew how to deal with children.

"Because you are her parent, Mayuri-sensei," she replied. "And as such it is your duty, and your responsibility. You have to be the one who does it."

The remaining three people in that section of the building were all staring at her intense, dignified features. Even Nemu seemed entranced by the sight of the woman who had watched over her since her earliest conception. Face so calm, glossy black hair bound in a thick braid falling down her chest, eyes that revealed so much about the person herself.

There came a sound from behind her. Turning, Isane saw Captain Kurotsuchi bending down over his daughter's form, a long syringe held in his blue-nailed claw. Before she could think to protest, he inserted the tip into Nemu's amputated limb. She cried out. An instant later the bandages burst, and before their eyes, an entirely new limb wiggled out, completely formed in less than five seconds.

Oh yeah, the tall medic realized. Limb regeneration. I remember him using that after he cut his arm off. When he took his shirt off, and I thought…

"Come, Mayuri-sensei," Unohana spoke as she stepped forward. "Let me accompany you back to your division. There are still avenues to explore for your research into modified souls. I know you will find something of interest to occupy yourself."

The gentle powerhouse gestured politely, and her cohort followed, muttering to himself. "Oh my, yes. So many wonderful options to explore. No limits to what my research can produce, after all. For instance, it occurred to me the other day, if I can synthesize a soul, why not try to craft those with enhanced abilities in only parts of their bodies? Less chance they will implode from all the modifications. This will allow for the swift development of specialized soldiers, geared for specific advantages in combat. And we won't even have to bother with crafting gigai for them! We can use corpses, which are infinitely cheaper to procure and replace."

So absorbed in the convoluted workings of his own mind, he left that room. Unohana glanced back at Isane once and nodded down at Nemu, before following him out.

The tall healer did not waste any time. Moving over to where the young woman lay, she reached down and lifted her into her arms. Briefly she remembered the first day they spent learning together, and being hoisted over Nemu's shoulder for a lesson in handling infants. The thought brought a smile to her face as she laid her slight burden back into an upright bed. Isane then rose up with a groan, bending backwards to ease the tension she had not noticed developing in her midriff.

When she came forward it was to find Nemu staring up at her, an incomprehensible expression on her face. But that was nothing unusual.

"Isane-neesan?"

That honorific again. One of these days she really should correct Nemu on using it in public. But right now, it only served to warm her heart. And after today, that was something she sorely needed.

"Yes, Nemu-san?"

"Would you please do something for me?"

Now this _was_ unusual, her reserved friend asking for something for herself! It made Isane feel quite curious.

"What is it?"

The unemotional eyes flickered briefly for a moment, almost as if afraid to continue. But then she reached forth and took her nee-san's hand.

"Would you braid my hair like Unohana-sama's?"

Of all the things she had been expecting, that was nowhere on the list. But still, the sisterly aspect of this act made it seem so very right as soon as she thought of it. Once more, Isane Kotetsu smiled warmly.

"Let me find a ribbon, Nemu-san."

* * *

Rukia pulled her head out of the dirt with an effort. At that moment, she could never recall having been so utterly exhausted, thoroughly beaten, and completely awestruck. The effort of withdrawing her face from the ground was all she had in her at the moment. Now she just lay there, trying to remember exactly what her opponent had done to get her into this position.

A pair of feet came into her point of view while she was still considering this conundrum.

"What do you think, Rukia-san?"

Momo Hinamori certainly didn't look like a particularly harsh taskmistress. This did not prevent her from being one of the most disturbingly intimidating enchanters it had ever been the adopted noblewoman's pleasure to learn from. 'Inspiration' did not really do it justice. If the word 'genius' applied to anyone, it was this deceptively sweet and carefree person.

"Wha…?" Her tongue felt like sandpaper, and twice its regular size, so she tried again. "What… did you _do?_"

In response, the vice-captain of the Fifth squad reached out, offering her a hand, which Rukia accepted. Momo pulled her back to her feet with no apparent effort. She had yet to express any form of discourtesy, admonishment, or even weariness in any of their practice sessions. Her erstwhile assistant and unofficial student was grateful to be learning from this humble, brilliant soul.

And whenever she asked a question, a detailed answer was always forthcoming.

"Bakudō #18, _Stair of Starlight_, is a technique that doesn't get much credit, because it's functionally impractical in the regular world. The spell creates a solid invisible surface of no really great durability, but it serves to bear a person's weight fairly well, and at least in Soul Society, it can be used to bridge divides or help you ascend to high places. In the world of mortals, we can all fly and walk through their walls, so as I said such a spell doesn't receive much notice in the academy. But in a pinch, it can serve to trip a person up if you cast it on the ground and then remove it when they walk over it, which is what I did. When you lost your footing, I just punched you down with Hadō #1, _Shō_, another under-appreciated spell. If you were a Hollow, I'd have put my sword through your skull before you could regain your feet."

Momo could also say some pretty odd things very casually. Perhaps she didn't appreciate the word 'blood-curdling'. But then, it was hard to associate such a term with so sweet a disposition.

Finding her feet once again proved difficult, however, and she almost fell in spite of having Hinamori there for assistance. Rukia tried to laugh it off. "That wasn't #18 just now, was it?"

"Come on, Rukia-chan, I think it's time we took a break." The devoted death god led her diminutive ally over to a cherry blossom tree flowering in this practice field on the grounds of the Fifth division. "I'm afraid I put a bit too much force behind that blow to the head," Momo apologized as they took a seat. "I'm sorry for that. It won't happen again."

This was not the first time she had been injured helping the lieutenant with her 'lecture series', but every time only served as an opportunity to grow more proficient. And she truly was, not just in her spell repertoire, but in their application and even combination. Rukia had experimented with demon arts in the past, but never to the extent that Hinamori seemed to have devoted herself. Apparently her teacher had a strong reason for doing so, while if she had to be honest, Rukia herself had been somewhat disheartened not to be clearly superior to her fellow shinigami upon entering the academy, as her only previous means of comparison had been between her and Renji. No contest there.

Still, in a way, this was a pleasant experience as well. Hinamori was an exceptionally decent person, slow to anger and quick to empathize. She could best be described as 'unrestrained', and the Kuchiki maiden secretly envied that aspect of her personality. People seemed naturally drawn to Momo, and she responded to them in a way that fostered familiarity and further communication in the future. This meant she had no surfeit of friends and acquaintances to call upon in times of need.

Which begs the question again of what she needed to seek me out for.

"Ah, here you two are!"

At that cheerful voice, both ladies looked up. Crossing the grassy space on the roof of the building was Aizen Sōsuke, Hinamori's captain. Rukia didn't have to look to know that her partner's sparkling radiance had just gone up by a factor of ten. Whenever in the presence of her gentle mentor and personal hero, the girl became animated enough for twenty different people. Rampant speculation about them apparently abounded among the rumor mill of Soul Society, but at least as far as Aizen seemed concerned, their relationship was purely platonic, if deeply respectful.

The bespectacled bulwark of the Gotei 13 moved with casual elegance towards them. When they would have risen to bow to him, he waved them down easily.

"Sōsuke-taichou," Rukia inclined her head formally.

"Be welcome, Aizen-taichou," Momo smiled merrily up at him, which the captain returned. "Was there any particular reason you were looking for us?"

"Only to ascertain how the lesson plan was proceeding."

He had a very natural, friendly way of speaking that complemented his junior officer's well. Whether this was a result of Momo's concerted effort was impossible to say. Whatever the case, it worked. Rukia could not help but feel relaxed around these two, not at all unwanted or unnecessary. That was certainly a nice break for her, even if it did only happen every three days. After three weeks she had come to look forward to these associations almost as much as the ones she regularly shared with Yumichika. At least here she could tell when people were being completely honest with her, even if she still harbored doubts that any such lecture series actually existed.

"May I join you?" Aizen inquired graciously.

"It would be our honor," the noblewoman moved over to make space between her and Hinamori, and the curly-haired gallant lowered himself into a sitting position without effort. Despite having been a captain for over fifty years, Sōsuke did not show any signs of letting his strenuous position get the better of his magnanimous personality. As if to emphasize this, he reached into the broad sleeves of his haori and produced a ceramic flask and three drinking bowls.

"I hope you ladies won't mind my offering to share a drink with you. It's purely to honor the fact that just half an hour ago, three of the divisions were pleased to welcome brand new lieutenants into their midst."

"That's wonderful!" Momo beamed with glee. "I'll certainly toast my new comrades!"

Aizen smiled and filled her cup, passing it over. When he offered the same to Rukia, however, he did not fail to notice the troubled look that passed over her features.

"Sir," she began, "you said three. Can I take it to mean that my own division…?"

There was a touch of sympathy in the look he gave her. "I'm afraid there could still be no clear consensus between Jūshirō and the committee. It would seem that the Thirteenth will have to wait a little longer to find a qualified candidate."

"I see." Rukia glanced off to the side, and then back again. "In that case, I'll just have to toast the newly-seated officers, and hope for better fortune at home."

"Nobly put," the first-class officer concurred, and proceeded to fill her cup. She accepted gratefully. Her first sip told her that the liquor was of the highest quality. Apparently Captain Aizen did not stint when it came to his luxuries. Perhaps it was this that caused Rukia's tongue to grow loose.

"So whom did they finally decide upon for the rest?"

"Well, let me see," their informant pondered as he poured himself a cup and settled the flask on the earth. "From the Tenth there was a Fourth seat named Hideaki Roshōmon, who performed quite remarkably during the trials against Captain Kyōraku. Rumor has it he remained on his feet for five seconds after Shunsui turned to his shikai, a most impressive feat. And your honored brother's division will be graced by one Ichiro Yutaka. A very old and luxurious family, from what they say. Of course, Captain Mayuri only had one candidate, so it goes without saying that she received the nod. Her name is Nemu, I believe."

No one she recognized. Sorry, Renji. She took another sip, rolling the names around in her mouth. It really was an excellent brew. Momo certainly seemed to be enjoying hers. She hadn't said a word in the last two minutes. That was unlike her.

"It was quite an escapade, from what I hear," Aizen continued chatting good-naturedly. "Apparently the Third seat from the Tenth injured herself a bit while trying to cast a particularly long and frustrating spell. I just thought I would mention that before either of you tries the same one and finds yourself waking up in the grounds of the Fourth with no recollection of how you got there."

"Which spell was it?" Her cup was empty, and upon noticing this, she reached down and picked up the flask for herself to rectify this. It didn't seem like a big deal, and Aizen certainly didn't treat it that way.

"Its name," he said in a slow, clear voice, "is Getsui Yokumo. 'Cloud Over Moon', I believe."

Rukia paused while pouring the drink, thinking.

"It's a very complex incantation, as anyone from the old days can tell you. Momo here actually did a paper on it once before. It's supposed to grant you heightened perceptions and better-than-average cognitive abilities. Useful for those of us ruled by our hearts and not our minds."

She made no response to this last statement. Aizen kept talking.

"I think if you were to analyze the spell's basic structure, though, you might be surprised at what you find. It's actually a third-generation manufactured charm, based upon magic that was initially supposed to impair a target's cognitive abilities, not enhance them."

A cherry blossom fell on her still-outstretched hand. Rukia found herself staring at it.

She began to feel sick.

"The spell was intended to aid in the transmission of secrets. When you imparted a message to someone, you give the person the first part of the spell, in whatever form you find most advantageous to you. Like, say, in a wine cup. Then, once they are receptive, you incant the remainder. The target forgets everything about what you told them. They will remain so unawares until the person who holds the two-part counter-spell applies it to them."

Her cup was shaking, sloshing out clear rice wine onto her fingers.

"Afterwards, they remember everything they forgot, and can proceed to discuss their message with anyone who asks."

There was ice in her stomach, and in her veins. It hurt abominably.

"And by now," Captain Aizen Sōsuke spoke, staring into the depths of his own drink, "you should have remembered everything I told you on the day we first met, Rukia-chan. From the events of that evening, to the life story of a young man who went by the name of Yoshi…"

The flask fell from her fingers. She looked at him. His glasses were reflecting the midday light, shielding his eyes as he rotated his head to return the stare.

"Yoshi Hitsujikai."

The name hit her like a kidō spell to the back of the head. There's blood on the flagstones, she thought. Blood, spilling out of him, dripping off their knives. Two men with knives. And a captain. Two of them. They stabbed him in the street, in the dark, and then HE came up behind me. He took me away, and said things to me, true things. Then his eyes opened, and when they did I could see that he wasn't who I thought he was. Instead he was…

"You," she whispered hoarsely.

She scrambled to her feet and backed away, hands instinctively reaching for Sode no Shirayuki. When she touched the blade, there was no answering presence. It felt like the sword was gone completely cold.

Aizen watched her move away, still calmly sipping his drink. Beside him, Momo Hinamori had her chin on her chest, apparently sleeping.

And then he spoke.

"Bakudō #92. Stone-Throw House."

There came a sound like a nail being drawn over glass. Then all around there was a shimmering, akin to heat over a fire. This distortion served to form four walls arranged at the cardinal points of where they sat. When Rukia backed against one of them, she felt how solid it was, and without hesitation she spun and drove her weapon into that barrier, but nothing happened. Again and again she slashed, with no result.

"You don't have to be afraid, Rukia-chan," Aizen commented on seeing her actions. "I only want to test something on you."

"HEEELLLP!"

She screamed at the top of her lungs, staring wildly out into the empty rooftops and far-off horizon. "SOMEBODY! PLEASE HELP ME!"

It had all gone so wrong. She wasn't ever meant to be here, she knew that know. I would have run long ago, if they had only let me. If I had only remembered the truth about what they really are, all of them, they're…

"Whatcha doin' there, Rukia-chan?"

Monsters.

For a second she didn't want to turn around. Seeing just might drive her crazy. What if it's true?

I have to be ready.

"Dance, Sode no Shirayuki," she whispered. In response, the sword transformed into a white marvel, ribbon flapping about her protectively. Now I'm ready, Rukia Kuchiki decided. Now I can look.

So she turned around.

Sure enough, Aizen Sōsuke was no longer there. Instead Gin Ichimaru came walking across the grass towards her, smiling. Big, happy, and threatening.

"Been remembering things you weren't s'posed to, Rukia-chan. Stuff that was locked up inside your head, but started to leak out fer some reason. Gave me quite a surprise when you quoted my own words back at me, the day you came t'plead for young Renji's life. Made me curious 'bout you for the first time in a long time."

He was coming nearer, and everything Rukia had learned about kidō, swordsmanship, and combat in the last few decades just went right out of her head. All she knew was that she had a sword in her fist, and the man she feared and hated most was coming straight towards her.

Don't let him near me.

"Now I just wanna see what you've got inside ya. Then we'll go our merry separate ways, and you won't tell nobody what I did to you. Ain't that right, Rukia Kuchiki?"

He kept on coming.

Don't let him _near me!_

"You're gonna stay nice and quiet and proper like always 'til I'm done with ya, and not say nothin' that might raise a stink afterwards."

_STAY AWAY_, she wanted to cry, but couldn't.

"'Sides, not like anybody'd believe ya. Certainly not big brother Byakuya, right?"

And with an agonized howl, she lunged for him.

The point drove towards his heart, and stopped against his chest. Like his skin was armor-plated.

Rukia could have wept she was so angry, so scared. She remained in that position, snow-white sword extended, arms trembling with fear and loathing.

But Ichimaru didn't move.

"Harder," he whispered.

She shook her head, crying and gnashing her teeth strangely, and pushed! The blade still didn't break his skin.

"Harder!" Gin shouted.

Make it go away, please, make it go away, make it go AWAY!

"HARDER, GIRL! DO YOU WANT TO DIE?"

Reiatsu flared, driven by a fear of death and everything wrong that had ever been done to her and ever would be. Her eyes glowed, the sword keened a wild cry. Flesh gave way before it, and Rukia Kuchiki stabbed Gin Ichimaru through the heart.

He smiled at her.

"Shatter, Kyoka Suigetsu."

The illusion ended. Before her once again stood Aizen. His palm was extended, and through it had been driven Sode no Shirayuki. Blood dripped down from the wound, limning the blade and his haori with its crimson stain.

Rukia stared at him, not believing or understanding what she had just seen.

Aizen stepped in closer then, a look of profound satisfaction on his face as she gazed up at him incredulously.

"I knew you could do it, Rukia-chan," he spoke.

He leaned over until their foreheads almost touched. Her wide soft lavender eyes gazed into deep brown pools, filled with all manner of secrets.

Aizen whispered one of them to her then, in the form of a kidō spell, and the disbelieving blue orbs closed shut, sending her into a dreamless sleep as deep as the one he had put Momo into.

The bloody captain carried her back to where his second lay, and placed her carefully on the ground beside his lieutenant. He removed all trace of his presence, brought down the barrier, and walked away, feeling quite satisfied. Elated, even.

When the girls woke twenty minutes later, they chided one another for falling asleep, and then got back to work.

_To be continued..._


	10. Mortal Realm: Testing the Waters

Held with precise control between long, slender fingers, the brush made its way across the surface of the page with the ease and grace of a waterfowl on a pond. Dipping and moving, sliding and performing, alert and responsive to even the most minute command issued by its owner's fingertips.

It was a level of mastery that could only lead to artistry.

At length, Byakuya Kuchiki came out of his zone of concentration and looked upon the work as a whole. He studied his latest creation with the care and discerning criticism that could be found only in its creator. Were there any mistakes? Any slight unbalancing of form and function that could taint his appreciation of this effort?

After about a minute, he ruled that there was no such vexation that could serve to mar his masterpiece.

As if sensing the dissipation of artistic energies that had filled the room, there came a knock at the door leading into this candlelit hall. The wall slid open, to reveal Byakuya's majordomo abeyant beside the screen.

"Lord Byakuya, the representative from the Sassato family is here to call upon you."

His creative effort had finished with perfect timing. Cleaning off his implements, the artist said, "Send him in."

It took only another fifteen seconds for his guest to appear at the entry to this sanctuary, but in that time, Byakuya had already cleaned off his workplace and made himself presentable. A cushion had been placed before his seat to offer the envoy all necessary comforts that were his due. Dawn had only just begun to color the sky outside the veranda. His day began much earlier than that, though, and other people must need accommodate his preferences.

Yuudai Sassato came into his presence with no sign of being discomfited by this early hour. The members of his family held high favor in the upper echelons of the royal court, and not without good reason. They obeyed the precepts that formed the underpinnings of the afterlife, and strove to promote harmony and goodwill amongst their fellows. This was not always to be expected of nobility, and Byakuya for one was more than aware of that regrettable fact, as well as the merit that accompanied those who did not subscribe to it. The Sassato clan had titles, honors, and no mean wealth. They were a force to be reckoned with in their own right. In addition, their members held ties to his own kin by dint of marriage. This was as much a family affair as a social call.

"Kuchiki-sama." Yuudai went to his knees on the cushion and bowed forward. At a sign from his host, he rose back to a sitting position. The second son of the clan patriarch, he was dressed in a green kimono with dark ivy silk designs woven into it, a bright red sash wrapping about the same. A man of regular features, he had slightly sunken cheeks and a lower lip more prominent than the upper. He carried himself with aplomb, however, and had proven to one and all that he was no mere society darling, but an erstwhile, patient, and considerate young man. He got along well with his elder sibling, and more than well with the younger scions of their house. Intelligent and highly spoken of, Yuudai was a good beginning to Byakuya's busy day.

"How may I be of service to you, my lord?" the Sassato clansman spoke. In response, the shinigami captain opened a drawer in his desk and removed a small stylized golden dagger and a folded note. These he slid across the mahogany surface.

"My grandfather's estate borders one of your family's holdings to the east. He has asked me to relay to your father a request to purchase the tract in question. The dagger is a small token of remembrance from the gentleman, and he also hopes that at some near date your sire and his wife will visit him in his retirement."

"They have been in correspondence with each other, but my father's concern about his lordship's health has prevented him from broaching the topic of a visit." Yuudai reached out and retrieved the knife, meeting his elder's stern countenance with a studiously courteous look. "He will be pleased to hear of this invitation, and no doubt more than willing to meet both your grandfather's requests."

Byakuya did not bother with speculation or idle chit-chat. He had more important matters in mind. "The note is for your elder brother. I understand that he is the patron of the Ninth seat of Division Five in the Gotei 13."

"They are both aficionados of hawking, my lord."

No evidence of interest, or even having heard the statement. "As you may be aware, my own division has been lacking a second seat since the death of Lieutenant Yutaka."

Yuudai let his eyes fall to the floor. "I attended the funeral services. You were most generous to his family."

"He was of good service to my company. But now his successor has been chosen. And the person I have decided on is one who is known to both your brother and his comrade. Tell him that message is my assessment on how the news of this promotion should be handled once it becomes available to the public. We must strive to encourage harmony in our ranks, no matter what may have transpired in the past."

A slight lowering of the brows was the only evidence of Yuudai's confusion on this topic, but the royal personage was apparently not about to alleviate him of his understandable befuddlement. The underlying implication was, 'No more needs to be said', and he took this message to heart.

Lastly, Kuchiki lifted a small silk-wrapped square from the corner of his desk and placed it over the note. "In conclusion, I ask that this be delivered to your honored mother, and convey to her my most sincere apologies. While I am cognizant of the honor inherent to her offer, unfortunately destiny seems to have played havoc with even the most well-intentioned affairs. Her son's intended courtship of my sister Rukia must be put on hold, as I am sorry to say her duties in the Thirteenth now include an extended furlough in the mortal realm."

This last took the gentle go-between clearly by surprise. "Truly? I spoke with their third seat not a day past, and he assured me that Rukia Kuchiki's name was not on the list of any official assignments."

"Your diligence at your brother's behest is commendable, but this was a decision reached by Captain Ukitake himself just last night. Apparently he is of the opinion that Hollow activity is on the rise in certain key locations, and as such, more suitable respondents will be needed to address this influx. Though not a seated officer, my sister's qualifications were apparently good enough to warrant this change of schedule. I am not in command of the Thirteenth, and so the official decision is in no way mine to make. You have my regrets."

'_Official decision'. Whom do you seek to deceive with such disingenuous circumlocutions? Hopefully not yourself._

There was a trace of disbelief in the other man's gaze now. "Do you know for how long Rukia-sama will be on patrol in the mortal realm?"

No inkling of emotion, whether pride or dismay, was evident in the marble-white face that regarded him closely. "One month."

Yuudai's fingers clenched, and then he slowly reached out and took the remaining messages. "That… may prove to be a hindrance towards my family's proposal on that score."

"I am sorry to hear you say that."

_You nearly killed the messenger responsible for relaying the initial offer. The gardening staff would have been burying his mangled body out in the rose bushes had I not intervened._

Do not flatter yourself unduly. You never even left your sheathe for a moment.

_You were fingering the chopsticks. Don't think I didn't notice._

We will continue this discussion later.

Out loud, Byakuya could only be heard saying, "It has been pleasing to have you in my home, Sassato-san. Give my best regards to the rest of your family."

Dismissals of this nature were almost like a form of high-class art in and of themselves. Like a well-trained performer, Yuudai apparently took this as permission for him to make scarce. The two men exchanged courtly bows, and then he took his leave of the master of the House of Kuchiki.

Byakuya rose and moved from the room. He strode down the hall, white haori rustling faintly, silken scarf trailing behind him. Alone with his thoughts. And his soul.

_Explain this to me. The Sassato heir has no malign stain upon his name. He is well-bred and of excellent standing. So why would you strive to prevent him from courting the young lady?_

Simple. It is not him that I am concerned for. It is Rukia.

_Continue._

She has yet to fully adapt to our customs. If I were to arrange a marriage for her with someone she has never even met, I have little doubt that her happiness would be at risk.

_What happiness? She is miserable. Can't you see that?_

Of course. And I have taken steps to try and alleviate her malaise.

_None of them involve treating the source of her discomfort. Namely, you._

I am aware of how I have chosen to behave regarding her. You know why I cannot permit myself to become too close. Already I nearly broke my word once before, through impulsiveness.

_Impulsive. Like your dismissal of this marriage proposal. You never even considered it for more than a heartbeat._

Rukia's well-being is under my auspices. I will tend to her to the best of my abilities and powers.

_I am worried for you. For both of us._

What, pray tell, gives you cause for concern?

_Your actions. All the lies and manipulations. It is not honorable. _

I have broken no laws, offended no gods, denied no justice. Where is the harm?

_You have allowed others to do these things, though. And do not think yourself clean. What of this man you see fit to choose as the lieutenant of your division?_

What of him?

_He is little more than a crude swordsman, a reprobate from the kens of the ogre Zaraki. His power is great, to be sure, but strength alone does not mean he is suitable to lead._

You are correct, my friend. Strength by itself is worth less than nothing in this life. The Kenpachi proves that with every breath he takes. But Renji Abarai has qualities that are worthy of my recognition. When first he came to us, I did not consider him to be anything more than an obligation. But he has proven himself, both on and off the field of battle. My last choice for lieutenant was done only to assuage the powers that be. It proved a fatal mistake for that man. I would not see another family deprived of their loved one. At the very least, Renji has demonstrated a remarkable ability to survive. And at this time, I find that to be a trait most desirable in a lieutenant.

_Remember your oath, Byakuya. The one you swore on your parents' graves._

I do not need to be reminded. I will continue to honor my vows, no matter what suffering might befall me. That is what makes us worthy of the title 'noble', with the eyes of the world upon us.

_And its weight. Do not forget that either. You shoulder more than one heavy burden. Eventually, there might come a time when you must discard one to keep hold of another._

I am worthy and able to accept any obligation. There is always a way to win through. I have been loved more than I ever had hope or right to expect. And I am still not done proving worthy of that most blessed burden.

_Then I pray you may continue to stand strong beneath them. More than any of the others, you are the foundation upon which all rests. Should you fail, there is no telling what may befall our world._

Senbonzakura, you are a very morose weapon at times.

_Have you looked in a mirror lately? Smiling will not cut your head off, you know._

Good to hear, else Ichimaru would be without one.

_A pleasing picture_.

For both of us.

* * *

Rukia Kuchiki held up the roll of parchment, a triumphant smile on her face.

"I've been assigned to a post in the mortal realm."

"Wonder of wonders," Yumichika mused as he craned his head over her shoulder to see. There clasped in her small hands was indeed an official notice of active manifestation, kissed by the mark of the Corporeal Dispatch Committee and blessed with her own commander's floral seal. He raised his fluttering eyebrows and whistled a descending note. "So that's why you looked all sparkly today. And just last week you were moping about how you never see any action. The gods have answered your prayers, Rukia-chan!"

Rukia turned and punched him in the chest, which Ayasegawa took with a smile. "I was not _moping_, I was _wondering out loud_. And I thought you were too engrossed in buffing your fingernails and admiring your reflection in them to notice!"

"I notice everything you do beautifully, my little dancing snowflake," the dandy purred back.

"Yumichika-san, if Kuchiki-taichou heard you talking like that, it could be taken as grounds for disciplinary action." On Rukia's right, Lieutenant Momo Hinamori managed to sound both innocent and officious at the same time. For his part, the Fifth seat of Squad Eleven only flashed a smile and a saucy wink back at her, which caused his superior officer to blow her bangs out of her eyes in mild exasperation. As she did, Yumichika's eyes lit up, and he placed a hand over his heart.

"Oh, if only my poor dull brain were as sharp as my sword, I could count upon it to forever remember that sight just now, Fukutaichou-chan! As it stands…"

His hand ducked into his robe, and emerged with something clutched in it.

"This will have to do!"

With that, Ayasegawa grabbed Hinamori's shoulder and pulled her against Rukia. Both girls yelped, and the handsome rogue knelt quickly, one arm now around them. The other extended outwards before the trio, and there was a brief flash.

"Happy memories!" he cried, and then danced up and away, laughing and twirling his prize on its loop.

"Yumichika-san!" Momo squeaked indignantly, leaping to her feet in a flash. "Give me that camera right now! That's an order!"

"And _that_ was a very _lovely_ position you two were in," he responded back in playful tones. "Why, look!" And he turned the cell-phone around for them to see. "The three of us were cheek to cheek! I know a few people who would pay their entire month's salary just to get a shot of this!"

"_You wouldn't dare!"_ Lieutenant Hinamori sped towards him, and their ally sauntered backwards, holding the offending artifact high over his head as Momo tried desperately to grab it, the difference in their height serving to make this a most impossible and admittedly amusing spectacle to Rukia's eyes. For her part, she remained where she was. Knowing her mentor as she did, he wouldn't follow through on his threat, but Momo had proven time and again that she was most receptive to any sort of teasing on his part, and now was no exception.

"Class is over for today! We're off to spread the word, Rukia-chan!" And with that, he vanished from sight.

"_Don't think you can outrun me, you girly featherhead!"_ Momo shouted indignantly. "Why did Captain Kurotsuchi ever market those crazy devices? We already have hell butterflies to communicate, this is just… _a waste of resources!"_ She was about to take off in hot pursuit, then paused, turned and bowed to Rukia. "Forgive the lapse, Kuchiki-san. Our training is indeed complete for now. We will resume in three days time."

The noblewoman inclined her head respectfully. "I will see you then, Momo-sensei."

They exchanged warm smiles, and then the senior shinigami shot out of the courtyard, intent on quelling any unfounded rumors.

_Those two are going to kill each other if they don't have sex soon._

Rukia buried her face in her upraised knees and resisted the urge to scream. At last! Something had happened! She was being permitted to partake in the actual duties of a death god! It had been years since anything of interest had happened in her career. Time and again her skills had proven unworthy of promotion through the ranks. Not that such authority was her goal in being here, but it would have indicated the possibility of being able to accomplish more than what she had been permitted up 'til now. The Kuchiki heiress had spent years training with some of the most exemplary shinigami in their fields. Perhaps it was unworthy of her to think it, but she had been hoping some of their greatness might rub off on her. And to her teachers' credit, there had indeed been vast advancement in her combat abilities. It no longer felt as if she were lagging hopelessly behind the rest of her brigade. In truth, Rukia felt that her presence might actually be of benefit to the Gotei 13. And this realization fed her desire to put these awakening skills to good use in protecting others.

There was another reason she was glad for this assignment. Unlike her swordsmanship, the situation of her home life had not seen any sign of improving with the passage of the years. In the Kuchiki family, one lived by the word of law. There was hardly a facet of their daily lives that did not require an exacting knowledge of some archaic set of by-laws or scruples. The proper way to bow before a superior, the proper way to bow to an inferior. How to hold a teacup (depended on the tea), how to wait for someone to open a door for you (not all doors, but some), and what not to do when you were bored (like climb to the top of a watchtower and shock the guards on duty). Rukia had long since become accustomed to having a family retainer courteously point out some important nuance just as she was about to make a move. But you can become accustomed to eating bugs, or being whipped once a day.

You didn't have to look forward to it.

If there were any hint of warmth or good humor to be found in that house, things might be different. But despite having been able to adjust in accordance to her family's wishes, in all these years, not once had she ever felt welcome in that luxurious realm of the privileged elite.

Eventually, the weary social climber just felt like she had to get away. There were certain aspects of living in the Seireitei that made her wish she had been born in a different era. She was no hardcore member of the Eleventh. Her blood did not burn at the prospect of combat and slaughter. And yet she was a shinigami. Fighting accompanied virtually every aspect of her existence. At times the Kuchiki princess tended to forget during her now-regular training sessions with Ayasegawa and Hinamori that what they did was not for its own sake (although it could be; sometimes seeing them immersed in their areas of expertise was a weirdly beautiful sight), but to prepare her for using such tactics when blood was flowing and monsters were screaming for her flesh.

Defending others. Forgiving them, even. This was what she told herself was the purpose behind living here. Otherwise, she might have just up and left long ago. In spite of however many awful secrets seemed to live in this place, if you knew everything about yourself, at least, you could bear the shock. That was comforting, in a way. And being placed in the midst of carnage was oft-times very telling. It was quite a surprise what you might find yourself doing when it came down to life-or-death struggles.

So now she would perform the task of cleansing spirits once again. Withdrawing her zanpakutō, Rukia inverted it tip-down and examined the hilt. With one finger, she slowly traced a symbol on the blank haft. 'Free'. That was the spell that brought the decent souls out of their prisons of grief and loneliness into the bounds of heaven.

Kuchiki looked up and around her. Maybe it is heaven, she thought, rising and dusting herself off. But it's certainly not a home.

She took a leisurely pace heading back to Kuchiki manor. It was springtime in Soul Society. Flowers bloomed in small gardens scattered throughout their labyrinthine living environs. Several of them were lovely to behold, rivaling even the professional horticulturalists employed by her brother. Division Four tended to them, and it was well-known that Captain Unohana Retsu was an ardent botanist as well as president of the Flower Arranging Association. In spite of all this, Rukia never really liked to linger in these green oases. There was no specific reason. Even before joining the Thirteenth, something about quiet secluded spots like this left her just a little bit uncomfortable.

A little might go a long way, but a lot is still no picnic, the black-robed maiden thought as she turned a corner and spied the colossal portico that led into the private estate of her family.

She would be allowed to leave, and not a moment too soon. It had taken many years, but she had once again been granted permission to escape into the world of the living. Rukia pondered the prospects as she nodded in recognition of the guards' deep bows. The chance to stretch her wings, and in an active capacity this time, was most welcome. Breathing deep of the fragrance of cherry blossoms that pervaded the air stirred memories and experiences. Yes, it would indeed be nice to return to the land of her birth. Reacquaint herself with that mysterious other world, get back in touch with a few familiar faces. Good people, good times.

Memories.

* * *

Standing outside a certain set of chambers in her division, Rukia was trying to think of something to do. Should she leave and participate in one of the drills being overseen by Lieutenant Shiba? Or simply wait here for her superior to tell her what to do? That could take some doing. At this moment, the Fifth seat of her division, Kiyone Kotetsu, was engaged in some matter so secret that she hadn't even told Rukia why she needed her. This was not uncommon in their relationship. The Kuchiki lady had learned a few tricks that had come in handy when dealing with this volatile young woman. First and foremost, under no circumstances should you ever make mention of their captain, Ukitake Jūshirō, unless you wanted to listen to a breathless recitation of all the man's phenomenal good points delivered in a high-pitched girlish tirade that brooked no interruption and could conceivably cost you your sanity.

Second, if you want to distract Kiyone, make mention of their captain, Ukitake Jūshirō.

That pretty much covered it.

Rukia was feeling rather useless right now. She had only been in this division for two weeks, and was beginning to suspect that her being put under the auspices of the co-Fifth seat was somebody's idea of a sick joke. For starters, she had yet to determine what exactly Kiyone _did_ in this unit. She seemed to spend every waking minute either thinking about Ukitake, trying to be of use to him, or wishing she could be of use to him. In addition to that, at odd intervals people from all walks of life ranging from seated officers to landscape architects would approach Officer Kotetsu and offer her some kind of nonsensical, vaguely ridiculous information concerning the habits or doings of one or more members of the Seireitei. Whenever that happened, the sandy-haired imp would develop a most determined expression, and proceed to relocate to her room with the informant in tow, there to engage in some secretive collaboration that may, or may not, involve money being exchanged.

Now was one of those times.

Voices engaged in earnest discussion could be heard from beyond the shut shoji door. There was something rather unsettling about all this. Her instincts were leaning towards quietly absconding from the site of this potentially criminal act. It wouldn't be the first time. When Kiyone and her equally voluble co-chair got into one of their eternal disputes, Rukia tended to slip away and busy herself with other matters. It was like a game, really; seeing if she could guess how long this particular spat would last, and then learning whether or not she was right.

Only…

There had been mention of something earlier that might concern her.

Seated before the flimsy screen, Kuchiki raised a hand and knocked on the frame.

"Kotetsu-san?"

The voices within died out. There was a faint susurrus of sound, like someone trying to move with as little noise as possible. Then the wall slid open a crack, and one large dark eye peered out suspiciously. "Yes?"

Was she always this crazy, or did it happen gradually? "Ma'am, you spoke earlier of an assignment for me. I wanted to know if you wished me to get on that as soon as possible."

They stared at each other for what seemed like a very long time.

Suddenly Kiyone's face cleared. "Oh, yes, Kuchiki-san, that reminds me! You've been given an assignment to complete on the outside."

Outside?

Her manager turned and began rummaging excitedly through what seemed like a small mound of paper by the door. It looked for all the world like she just dumped everything off to one side as soon as she came into her room. Rukia shuddered to think how their division would be run if this person were the lieutenant.

"Where is it, where? Ah…! No, wait, not right… AH! Here it is!"

The tiny chipmunk produced a sealed document and passed it over to Rukia. "Take that to the Southern Senkaimon right away. Once you're done, send word, and they'll dispatch a hell butterfly to guide you back."

Confusion reigned supreme.

"Back from where?"

The senior shinigami had just seemed ready to close the door, and almost caught her head in between the panels when she stuck it back out again.

"The mortal realm."

Back she went like a turtle into its shell, and the portal slammed shut.

Kuchiki stood shocked.

Did I hear her right?

Did she just say… I have to leave?

I _can _leave?

She stared down at the form in her hands. Opening it, she found a properly written document detailing the need for lost souls to be purified in a place called the Bay of Japan, along with authorization for a shinigami from the Thirteenth to fulfill that duty.

It was her ticket to freedom.

A real, actual, honest-to-goodness assignment! Not just doing errands, or running messages back and forth, or engaging in drills! This was _it!_ Full-fledged death god work!

Without waiting for confirmation, or anything else that might spoil this marvelous moment, Rukia took off as fast as her legs could carry her. She paid no attention to the astonished stares of her fellow souls, only concentrated on getting to her destination as fast as possible.

I'm free, she thought. FREE! I'm going to see the mortal realm for the first time!

SUCK IT, RENJI!

For the first time in what seemed like a long time, the orphan-turned-aristocrat found herself feeling excited about what her day might hold.

* * *

Kiyone settled back down, eyeing her nervous informant with a most disturbing visage.

"If I find out you're lying to me, little man…"

Despite being a good head and shoulders taller than the person he was facing, the death god found himself unable to deny that disparaging insult. Right now, he felt like a flipped-over beetle at the mercy of a raven. All of his ilk knew the penalty for bringing false information to the Mistress of Whispers.

"I swear it, my lady!" he continued in a shaky voice. "The person who wrote that scandalous ero-poem in last week's _Shinigami Confidential_ was Nanao Ise, lieutenant of the Eighth!"

The officer leaned back on one hand, tapping a gloved finger thoughtfully against the floorboards. "Tell me why you think that."

"Well, you see," his voice dropped to a hush and he leaned forward, prompting his audience to do the same, "I was cleaning in her office, and I found a note lying on her desk. Naturally, I wouldn't dream of violating a lieutenant's private correspondence, but as it happens, the paper was rolled open a fraction! I couldn't see to whom it was addressed, but what I could read was a most shockingly graphic verse. I noticed something very familiar about the style of writing. And then it hit me! This had been written by the mystery author of "Her Glasses Are Hanging Off my Love-Sword"! As soon as I saw it, I came right away!"

He watched her cool unreadable profile, shivering in expectation. Would this be of sufficient interest to earn him favor with the woman known as the Voice of the Dead? Not even when taking the final exams at the academy had he felt this anxious.

And then she gave a slow nod.

"This is good."

The low-ranked flunky almost giggled with relief.

"For retrieving and delivering such valuable information, you will be greatly rewarded."

She reached a gloved hand into her robe, and produced a folded sheet of paper, which she passed over to him. He accepted this offer with trembling, grateful hands.

Kiyone rose as he opened his prize, not even bothering to wait until she had left. No manners, she thought. But then, people who read other peoples' mail could hardly be accused of having a surfeit of scruples. And her web of informants took many risks in her favor. She could overlook some of their less savory habits. They weren't perfect, after all. Not like her captain. HE would never stoop so low as to engage in rumor-mongering. Instead of spreading unfounded accusations, he would take the injured parties aside to speak privately, drawing them away in his elegant paternal manner, speaking to them softly, courteously, while Kiyone observed all this from her place in the rafters, straining to catch every word that fell from his gracious lips…

"Hey!"

The informant's voice behind her made the Fifth seat pause.

"What the hell?" he spluttered. "This isn't a layout of the Shinigami Academy ladies' bath! It's a terrestrial survey job for somebody named Rukia!"

Huh?

Wait one minute. If that's her duty notice, then what did I…?

The Queen of Rumors opened her mouth and said, "Oh, crap."

* * *

It was the world of the living.

And it was…

What?

Filled with things that existed in a way that she didn't recognize. Plants and trees, air, even light.

They were almost… nonexistent.

Rukia passed through them like they weren't even there.

She could walk on air, move through the earth, pass unnoticed before anything. Animals barely registered her, staring curiously but not reacting. They called it the 'real world' sometimes. So then why did it feel like such a dream land?

That was what Rukia told herself, flying across the plains and skipping over the limbs of trees. Branches did not sag, nor did leaves rustle at her presence. Is this place even real? Or is it I… who lack something substantial? If that's so, then what is Soul Society? A place for the bodiless, the dispossessed?

How can you tell what is real in this place, the shinigami wondered as she crested a hill. There's nothing to let you know it's not some illusion crafted by demons, it could just be a mirage, there's no…

And then she saw it.

Something huge.

The land just seemed to end. It cut off, like someone had slashed through the face of the world. And beyond, there was one big…

How to explain? It looked as if the clouds had become one with the sky and fallen to earth, merging into a vast, endless plain interrupted by innumerable crests and peaks. It was always moving, never standing still. Deep blue, but scarred by pure white cobwebs slicing through it. The thought occurred to Rukia that this must be some kind of writing on the face of the earth itself, white ink forming immense words and meaning that could only be understood by the stars, who looked at it from a sufficient distance to grasp its intent. So big. As big as anything.

It's water, she realized suddenly.

A lake the size of the world.

Is this what holds up the realm of mortals? This incredible body of water, on which their cities and mountains float like so many toy ships on the surface of a pond? That's beautiful. It's carrying them all along, never letting them sink, no matter what might happen.

Rukia's legs had taken her to the edge of the cliff. Now she found them giving way, slowly dropping her down to that odd immaterial surface that seemed even less durable than she had first perceived. Crouched on the lip of a world more different than she could believe, the awestruck soul tried to take it all in, and failing that, she just sat there. Looking at it, listening to it. For the first time she realized that there had been a sound building faintly since she first set foot out of the Senkaimon that emerged in the forest. With every movement she made towards the destination that her communicator indicated, that tumult had increased imperceptibly, until now she could recognize its source. The voice of this land-and-sky was constantly changing, but always recognizable.

There had to be a word for something like this. But since its like did not exist in Soul Society, Rukia had never learned it. Had all the others known this place existed, and simply never mentioned it to her?

Hard to believe. But since it was right there in front of her, she had to.

After several minutes, Rukia recalled her purpose in being here. The communicator indicated that her targets were still much further out, and down. They must be in the water, she thought. Hundreds of them, according to the report. This would be a difficult assignment, to be sure, but somehow, the sight of that unprecedented liquid landmass let her believe that nothing was beyond the realm of possibility. If it could exist, then she could fulfill this task. It was no good letting the unknown daunt you. That she knew all too well.

The delegate of the afterlife then rose and stepped off the cliff face, descending until she was on the same level as her marvelous new discovery. Tentatively, afraid of getting wet in spite of all previous experience that this place could hardly touch her, she stuck a toe into that surging, spreading body of water. Rukia flinched when it lapped against her sandal, but there came no sensation of cold or damp. This was not her world. Does that make me unfit to even be here? Why am I asking that now? I _am _here, that's what matters. And I have a job to do. Let's get to it.

She moved into the tide, leaving no disturbance to mark her passing. In moments, there was a new ceiling directly above her head, one that flowed and melted like liquid glass. A few seconds to marvel at this event, and then she turned back to the lightless depths that stretched out before her.

It certainly looks deep.

I wonder what kind of souls are hiding down there?

With that, Rukia got moving.

* * *

A ghost swam beneath the waves.

All that lived in the ocean feared her, though they could not see her. She was a phantom, invisible to mortal eyes, but perhaps not to their senses. Fish and creatures of the sea fled at her approach, sensing that here was a predator that exceeded anything they could achieve.

The scylla moved through her chosen domain, the only evidence of her existence being small will-o-the-wisps that danced all around her bulk. She was one of the great old Hollows, those that had striven in secret to achieve the very pinnacle to which their kind might aspire. It had been a process that served to magnify and intensify every pain or fear she might ever know, leading the resolute wraith to question whether or not she could endure the obliteration of self that was a necessity for this process. But by then it was too late to turn back, and she knew it. The only recourse was to prevail, outlast the hunger and dissolution, to come out afterwards stronger than anyone or anything.

She had done all this to escape servitude.

The scylla had fled from Hueco Mundo when the dullahan first appeared and made itself known. She had recognized that even then, her strength as an _adjuchas_ would draw his interest, for a warrior in his army and possibly something much worse. So she had escaped to the land of sunlight and even greater peril, risking death at the hands of the hunters and the blade killers.

Early on the exile recognized that there was one place that might offer her protection from all her enemies' eyes. It was the source of all life on this world. The vast, unplumbed ocean. Overlooked by those who policed the afterlife. Unlike her, they often retained memories of having lived in this dimension. An unintentional result of those lifetimes was that the killers tended to overlook anywhere they had not considered a suitable habitat while alive. And there were no human settlements in the cold lightless world beneath the waves.

There were souls to scavenge, however, and more than one might think. Drowned sailors, murders, suicides. No feast, to be sure, but that was precisely the appeal. Others of her breed did not trouble themselves with the sea, when there were far richer pastures to graze upon to fill their hungry spirits. That meant she had it all to herself. And for one lone _adjuchas_, it had proven enough. Sometimes the aquatic carnivore came upon pockets of souls hiding in the dark, searching for treasure, or secrets. On very rare occasions, there might even be a lone spirit of noteworthy quality and power. But those were few and far between. The last had been a woman, the flyer from foreign lands whose craft had faltered during a storm, and that had been over fifty years ago.

There had been a tempest like that blowing when she experienced the final reward for her perseverance. The sky had been completely black with clouds, lightning tearing through its surface, thunder laughing at her dwindling screams. The very ocean had pulled away from her as she bobbed to the surface, leaving the aspirant hanging in a void. Her Hollow hole had swallowed nearly all of her, allowed to spread from enforced starvation and the resulting horror it had bestowed upon her. But this was the secret, one she had learned at great cost to herself. If she managed to endure, then she would become one of the great lords. There were no guarantees. Spirit power had nothing to do with it. You had to be at a certain soul mass to start with, to be sure, but when the final reckoning came, survival depended on something that could not be explained. Maybe luck, or destiny. Or clarity. No one could tell her that.

When the final shreds of spirit form were annihilated by her emptiness, she finally understood.

The taste of her own soul.

With it came the realization that the mortal realm would not be sufficient to stabilize her apotheosis. Hueco Mundo beckoned, and so she returned, to feast upon her native home. The soul stuff of that barren plane was absorbed into the black hole that she had become, along with any Hollows unfortunate enough to have been in the vicinity. Her influence reached out to absorb every sliver of spirit particles for hundreds of miles in any direction. The formless entity knew that she needed as much as she could get, and her hole of a heart devoured all available reishi it could find.

Then it recreated her, as a _vasto lorde_.

The form she took was apparently influenced by her time spent under the sea. A woman's torso appeared with the antlered Hollow mask still covering her head, only larger than any mortal, huge and beautiful, a giantess with skin of bronze like those humans who lived their lives under the tropical sun. But thereafter any resemblance ended. Iridescent lines of aquamarine scales drew symbols along the incredible muscles beneath that skin. Shafts of cartilage grew and connected from her back, almost seeming to craft a skeleton behind her. Below the waist there sprouted no legs, only an assembly of ravenous beasts, some bearing the heads of lionesses, others like eels twining on vast serpentine coils. She had been a composite entity ever since winning over the collective of _Menos Grande_, and this was represented in her new form.

Scylla.

Ecstasy was her first experience upon beholding herself. And with it came dejection. The new-made monster realized that although her strength now dwarfed even the shinigami elite, memory let her know that she had failed to surpass the level of the tyrant king of Hueco Mundo. Already the dullahan sensed her. She could not remain here. And so it was back to the watery kingdom that would forevermore be her home. Subterfuge and solitude served to keep her apart from any would-be threats. If that failed, she could always sacrifice one of her appendages, granting it new life as a separate entity and thereby distract the search parties, giving her time to escape. Perhaps one day, the tyrant would fall. How, she could not guess, but until then, it was her lot to wander the seas alone. Although she no longer hungered to feast upon the souls of the living and the dead (an apparent consequence of her transformation), the experience was still soothing. Their auras flowing down her throat remained as sweet as ever, and she could appreciate it even more without that gnawing empty craving that had previously occupied a part of her thoughts. The _vasto lorde_ now felt secure enough to attack whole ships and devour their crew, leaving them to float as ghost-hulks upon the ocean surface. One of the humans' flying vessels had fallen into the ocean recently, and she had been tempted to locate the main concentration of souls, even though there was a chance such a large collection would attract more of her kind.

But now the scylla had the scent of something different.

It had been so long, but the aroma was unmistakable. There was a shinigami in the vicinity. Probably dispatched to collect those crash victims. A storm had brought the craft down, however it had been quelled by now. All that remained was to track her latest prey, and savor the taste of something pure and rich. To hell with the risks, I want a meal that is truly memorable, and this is it. There is so little of interest in my days, if I don't seek out something worthwhile, I might as well be dead.

The titan reflected on this, as she surged through the ocean.

* * *

An elementary student passing with her mother pointed at a patch of sunlit grass. "Momma, can I pet the kitty?"

"What?" The parent peered at her daughter curiously, unable to see anything where she was indicating. "There's no cat there. Come on, Mikki, don't be playing games now, we have to get home."

They continued on, and the girl turned her head and waved forlornly. "Bye, invisible kitty."

A midnight paw raised and batted at the air in parting, brightening the child's face considerably. She skipped the whole way back home, singing 'invi-sible kit-ty, invi-sible kit-ty!' Her bemused mother dismissed it as an infantile quirk, remembering her own fanciful imagination at that age with nostalgic fondness.

Yoruichi Shihoin yawned and stretched, arching her back and flipping her tail regally. Another person able to see her. There certainly were a lot of folks with high extrasensory awareness in this region. The perfect feeding ground for any daring Hollow. But none acted openly. Almost like they were being restrained somehow. That in and of itself should have alerted any observant souls that something was amiss. And yet, no shinigami were in sight. All the better for her, considering her status as a fugitive. But eventually, somebody was going to pay the price for this lax security. Maybe even that little female human.

Run home, child, she thought. Night is approaching.

The exiled royal matriarch of the House of Shihoin had been scouting this particular vicinity for several days now. As the one most adept at camouflage, Yoruichi had tasked herself with engaging in any long-distance reconnaissance trips, leaving Tessai and Kisuke back at their home on the main island to focus on building their defenses and alliances. She had never been one to sit around and formulate strategy anyway. That was for those who took themselves more seriously. I know quite a few people like that, upon reflection.

They had moved around quite a bit following their defection from Soul Society. With the Mobile Defense Corps on their heels, it didn't pay to remain complacent. But Kisuke had been adamant that they remain in their new locale once they happened upon it. His attempts at clear, logical, reasoned explanations for this left both his allies doubting the scientist's sanity, and not for the first time. But eventually, they had acquiesced to his stubborn refusal to relocate with as much grace as they were capable. The guardians of the afterlife would never relent in their pursuit of three forsaken captains. A pity they never bothered to consider they might be after the wrong triumvirate.

Yoruichi did not like to think what it might be like to fall prey to her own former forces. No doubt their deaths would be made to look like accidents. In this world, the term was 'shot while attempting to escape'. There would be no crucifixion on Sōkyokou Hill for her. And why risk it, when her clan had been the ones to craft that means of terminating captains? They'd be too afraid she might have a means of turning the phoenix back upon them somehow. Keep them guessing, that's the way to stay ahead in this game. Even if they were somehow taken alive, it was highly unlikely their presence in prison would be long-term.

If the assassins didn't get them, _he_ would.

Perhaps there would be a staged escape, leaving the Thirteen Division Imperial Guards running about in desperation looking for the escapees. And all the time they were off being secretly subjected to more of Aizen's foul experiments. Now wasn't that a lovely thought? Kisuke's, of course. He always did have a morbid sense of humor. Fortunately he had never once been able to avoid her foot aimed at his skull when he became too creepy. Just keeping things simple, she always told him afterwards.

Now the polymorphed princess leapt up and began loping across the rooftops. There had been a disaster in these parts recently. Many lives were cut short when an airplane was brought down by a storm. Or at least, that was how it was made to seem. Efforts to recover the bodies had proven fruitless. This was just the sort of thing that led to souls becoming bound to this realm. If her forsaken comrades on the other side of life were still on their game, they should have sent someone capable to clean up this mess and dispatch any Hollows that chose to feast upon the remains. She wondered why they hadn't bothered to yet.

As if alerted by her thoughts, a sense came to the black cat then. There was a Senkaimon gate opening nearby.

Curious, Yoruichi Shihoin raised her leonine head and sniffed experimentally. There had been quite a few shinigami popping in and out lately. Perhaps a sign of troubling times for them? Goodness, don't tell me old man Yamamoto and his stooges are starting to feel anxious? That could lead to them wiping out some Hollow nests to remind everyone who's in charge before settling back down to their uncontested dominion over all creatures great and small. She allowed herself a faint sneer. Why did I ever stay there so long?

Then she caught a clear scent of the new arrival, and her jaw dropped.

It was him!

There was no mistaking it, even from this great a distance, and after so much time. She had breathed in his scent often enough during their impassioned bouts of lovemaking to be assured of recognizing that unforgettable aroma. Faint, but definite.

It had been half a century since Yoruichi had been able to set eyes upon her lover and student. And she still ached from the absence. His strength, his smile, the feel of his hands upon her skin, and the way his black silken hair felt sliding through her fingers. She could recall every moment in breathless detail. But all that had been torn away by the devious machinations of a heartless being. There had only been enough time to leave him something of highest value to her, as a promise that one day they would meet again. The cat goddess had never doubted that day would come. But when it did, would it be as impassioned allies, or despairing enemies?

And suddenly she knew that she must see him. Now, without delay! Real or not, out of shape or not, she must get to where he was. Even if it was only for a moment from a distance, her heart let her know what it needed. And that had always been enough for Yoruichi, consequences be damned!

So resolved, the ghost cat cast a spell, and transported herself across leagues.

* * *

Up above, night was falling. But in this watery dimension, the only light came from spirits. Rukia had been finding and purifying them for hours now. This being her first experience in performing soul burial, there might have been some need to adjust herself to the experience. However, that had not proven to be the case. Apparently, in spite of having offered her nothing in the way of comfort, the Kuchiki family had clearly not stinted in preparing her for the basics a shinigami would require.

The apparitions oftentimes fled from her, their resentment and hostility evident for all to see. She was quicker, though. That much was established early on. And when she performed her first ever konsō, and watched the fear-filled eyes melt into something approximating peace, that had been all it took to get Rukia to appreciate what she could do here. For perhaps the first time ever, she was glad of her role as a death god. Here in this stygian void, her insecurities were temporarily forgotten.

She skipped from one soul to another. It was almost like a game to her now. How many can I do in ten minutes? An hour? All day? Based on the number of souls in this vicinity, it might just come to that. There had been no Hollows, a danger her orders had warned about specifically. It seemed odd to Rukia that they would send someone who had only been officially on the job for a month into an area that was a tempting target for any deranged spirit. The specifics were that a large quantity of souls had been lost here in a recent tragedy. Weather conditions had hampered recovery efforts on the part of the shinigami. On top of that, something in this water seemed to be interfering with her perceptions to a noticeable extent. It was interesting to find that such a thing could influence herself and her brethren. There had been only passing mention of such things back in their student days.

Oh, well. That just meant she was learning something. And after the tedium to be found in her regular work-day back at the office, this was an experience to be cherished. Perhaps someone had noticed her work and recommended she be given this assignment. Lieutenant Shiba, perhaps? He had been good to her ever since she first joined the Thirteenth. It was nice to imagine that Kaien was looking out for her well-being, and not in a condescending way like so many of the other officers.

Thinking about her likable fellow noble caused Rukia to overlook a matter of some significance.

Namely, all fish in the vicinity had fled.

* * *

She was over the ocean, coasting about, and Yoruichi realized there was something wrong.

Well, two things, actually. For starters, she had been mistaken. This person was not whom she had first believed. Their reiatsu was unknown to her, and much too small to qualify. A shinigami, without a doubt, but a newcomer.

What really got her attention, though, was the way this planet's spiritual ether was screaming at her. The turmoil was expressed in the violent churning of tidal waves and gale-force winds. Several whirlpools were sprouting up, from here to the horizon, hungry gobbling vortices that did not result from any natural phenomena. All aquatic and avian life was fleeing from the scene. It was as if something that went against nature itself was approaching this vicinity.

And yet, there was no trace of soul power to explain it. The signs were unmistakable, though. A Hollow. So why couldn't she locate it? And apparently, Yoruichi was not the only one. The other shinigami present was behaving as if there was nothing peculiar transpiring. What sort of total amateur was this, anyway? And why were they sent here?

No, none of that mattered. The threat was real. Reason didn't seem to be flying, so it was time to try something different.

Let's get crazy.

* * *

The butterfly fluttered off and away to its new home. Rukia lowered her zanpakutō, observing its flight with that strange sense of fulfillment a successful konsō brought.

A glow came into her field of vision, then. From behind. Surprised, she turned around.

There were small globes of green light, wavering and floating gently in their liquid luminescence. They flowed around her, giving off no sense of power or danger. It was so very… pretty, actually.

Wondering, she reached up and touched one of those tiny lamps.

It felt cold.

Everything felt that way, actually.

What was going on?

Something like a ripple passed through her then.

The lady of the Kuchiki stared straight forward.

Untouched by the eldritch glow, it was the darkness. Something was moving in it.

No. That wasn't it. It _was_ darkness. Coiling and sliding around her. Huge. Icy. Intimidating.

I don't sense anything. What is it?

Then it was like an outline became visible, of a darker shadow against the ocean's depths. As if a hole had been cut out of that picture before her, leading into a true unending void.

The enormous bulk of a _vasto lorde_ hung before its unsuspecting target, tentacles winding out slowly to encase the drifting figure in a fang-filled cage.

Come to me, it whispered. Delicious soul. Flush pleasure. I want you. Give yourself to me.

Rukia stared, eyes wide. The first gentle touch brushed against her cheek, and still she made no move to escape. It was as though none of this was real. She was just observing it, from the outside. A part of her was not within this prison.

It was all a trap, she realized.

A pair of glowing green eyes lit up within the ebony swell.

Someone… help me.

* * *

The speed demon dropped her protective camouflage.

"HEY!" she roared in a voice magnified by kidō. "CHECK THIS OUT!"

She swung her hands out, clapped them together with her head bowed over them, and cast her spell.

"BAKUDŌ #90: RED THROAT FLYTRAP!"

A crimson spear shot out from her fists, up to heaven and down earthwards. At both tips it suddenly sprouted into a multitude of glowing bands that curved through the air. Designed to entwine and contain, their sticky touch was also corrosive, burning any soul stuff they encountered.

And a multitude of tongues roared.

Looking about, Yoruichi found herself surrounded by Hollows.

They were Huge Hollows, struggling within her web. Some of them had partially removed masks. The resultant unleashed spirit strength almost bowled her over. What the hell? Had they been here the whole time, and she hadn't noticed it? How did they manage it? Hovering naked in the midst of that raging struggling throng, a sharp sense of danger caught Shihoin's attention. A quick glance over to her right confirmed the new threat.

There were three of them, all dressed in white. Arrancar, she realized. Hollows that had crossed the boundary between themselves and shinigami. Like the Vizard, but from the opposite direction. One of them was a muscular male, with horns, black hair and a trim pointed goatee on a firm face. Close to him there was another form whose sex was difficult to determine, owing to being completely covered, from its white-gloved hands to a concealing oblong helm that completely obscured its face. Even as they fought to free themselves from her conjuring, their combined power put all the rest of their fellows to shame.

But the third was the worst of them, without a doubt. She had skin like yellowed ivory, metallic-red hair pulled back in a ponytail, and what seemed to be shades of bone over her eyes. A golden needle was driven through her broad nose. This one had already broken through the bindings, and was turning to confront the architect of their confusion. A dragon-headed hammer was clenched in one hand, while the other came up to point at Yoruichi with a copper butcher knife.

Looks like I really stepped in it this time, the ex-captain smirked.

She was just preparing to fight for her life, when everything was blown away.

* * *

A spell! A shinigami spell! The power behind it was superior to anything she had ever dreamed they were capable of producing. And when it fell…

She had been found!

Hollows everywhere, and not just the regular kind. These were nearly all _adjuchas_ level, some with masks removed. And three of them were… strange. More powerful than the rest.

Sudden recognition hit. That one! She is one of _my_ discards! One of the serpent heads I dropped to ward off pursuers from before! She must have been recruited by the dullahan. That's what this means, it was all…

_A TRAP!_

The tiny shinigami was forgotten. Now all that mattered was escape. With that, her draconic attachments all came up together, and blue Ceros streaked from each and every one of their throats. The water above was evaporated, joined soon after by over half of the yet-imprisoned hunting party. A cloud of dark inky reiatsu then poured from her lion heads. Reaching down, she tore away one of them and cast it back, giving that collection of Hollows their individuality and freedom, commanding them to cover her retreat.

Tia Harribel then tore away, fleeing into the darkest reaches of the sea.

* * *

Expecting a fight to the death, the Shihoin heiress was astonished to find exactly that to be transpiring. The only thing was, she didn't seem to be involved in it.

Hot on the heels of her first reading of the situation, a presence had come then that explained quite a bit. Below in the ocean, what felt like a secondary sea of dark strength was revealed in all its superb enormity. It was true terror, greater even than a captain's power, wrapped in a pulsing Hollow's skin.

Like things weren't bad enough before, she thought, and grinned.

But the irrationality that had spawned this occurrence apparently had not run its course yet. Without warning, _ceros_ of unsurpassed intensity came up and obliterated a hefty chunk of the demon brigade.

Either that kraken below me has terrible aim, or I'm the fourth leg on this particular tripod.

A second later, what felt like a pall of incredibly dense soul particles rose all around them in a black cloud. It was so heavy, thick and strong that it was completely impossible to distinguish anything outside of oneself. Like being enveloped in cement. On the other hand, Yoruichi reasoned, if she couldn't see them, the same was true for her enemies. Ah, the ostrich defense.

"She's getting away!" a low feminine voice shouted.

"_Andele, amigos!"_ a man's came back.

There came a crash then, and a surprised shout that sounded like two people calling out at once. Clearly through the din of an apparent battle, the noise of a lion roaring transformed into distinct words.

"I am Mila Rose, servant of the goddess! You are not permitted to pass!"

That was it for Yoruichi. It was high time she made her own farewells. But one thing had to be settled first. Her more reliable senses might be cut off, but there was still a tang in her nostrils that bespoke of familiarity. Fixating on that scent, the nude Amazon dove downwards, feeling the slight disturbance that came from entering the ocean. It could be that leviathan was waiting below for her, but nothing ventured, nothing…

Gained!

Yoruichi crashed right into something, and immediately she knew it was the rookie death god. By the way that her counterpart failed to respond, they were either dead from all this noxious maelstrom of deathly reishi, or simply passed out. Let's hope my luck holds, kiddo, because we're going to have to take this slow.

With that, the goddess of flash fought down her own screaming instincts and, taking firm hold of the insensate body, began to cautiously retreat from the battle that was apparently taking place overhead. With all that remained unexplained, there was no way to tell if exercising her abilities to their full extent might not catch the attention of the hunting party. Or worse, their prey. So she kept her reiatsu sealed as well as able, and proceeded to slink away under cover of night and Hollow ink cloud.

Apparently, neither side of this conflict took notice of her departure. The battle between Hollows continued to rage, and the agents of Soul Society took advantage of this civil war to slip away without anyone noticing.

* * *

"Rukia-ojousama."

The lady in question broke out of her reverie. One of Byakuya's messengers knelt in the middle of the covered archway down which she trod. He wore the same plain brown and black garb required for all the lower retainers of the Kuchiki family, right down to the hooded face-wrap.

Rukia often wondered what sort of services these silent unassuming sentinels performed for her brother. Did they inform on her whereabouts? Perhaps all the servants in this household reported back to their lord on the comings and goings of his adopted sibling. A foolish notion, she realized. Her existence probably never entered Byakuya Kuchiki's thoughts for more than a minute every week. Not that there was much to tell about her daily routine, really. If Rukia's experience was any judge, the soldiers of the Thirteenth division were hardly ever called upon to engage in noteworthy missions. The business at Hollow Bog over a decade ago still ranked as the most martial expedition she could ever claim to have been a part of. As an unranked shinigami, Rukia had to wonder if she had committed an indiscretion of some sort that kept her name off the list of interesting assignments. Of course, there was the loss of Kaien Shiba, and her part in that affair. Or was Captain Ukitake himself the reason why their division received so few challenges?

It suddenly dawned upon Rukia that she had been completely ignoring the attendant before her, and she pulled herself back into the present.

"Yes?"

Her visitor withdrew a slip of paper and offered it up.

"I have been instructed to deliver this to you, Ojousama."

She took it, and he bowed his head to the floor, waiting until his mistress passed before taking his leave.

Rukia continued the journey back to her room without further interruption. The note and its contents could wait until she could be assured of a little more privacy. Whatever might lie in store for her, it was always best to give yourself some alone time before receiving potential bad news. She would not want anyone to see her face crumple if this turned out to be a rescinding of her as-yet unrealized working vacation.

Around here, you never know who might be listening in.

* * *

A shoji door slid shut, smoothly-crafted fittings offering no sound to mar the house's blissful torpor. Best not to make too much noise, lest he wake up their slumbering houseguest. Wearing only an emerald cotton sleeping yukata, this establishment's owner made his way barefoot down the hall, creeping into an open door out of which golden lamplight poured. That same color was reflected in the glasses of one of the room's occupants, and outmatched in the eyes of the other.

Urahara Kisuke stopped.

"Tessai," he commented airily, "Did I or did I not request that the lady clothe herself prior to my leaving the room?"

The supreme spell-caster glanced at his earthly overseer, then back at the stunningly nude female figure stretched out casually on the tatami mat, one leg propped up so as to leave no part of her physique to the imagination.

"You did," Tessai Tsukabishi replied back. "However, she quite clearly ignored your insinuation. And I, being of a more doughty constitution than you, found no reason to press the issue."

Yoruichi stretched her neck to peer salaciously over at her former underling. "If you make me wait any longer to learn your findings, I might catch my death of cold." She reached over and took a sip from the warm saké dish lending a heady alcoholic savor to their enclave, then turned a meaningful look back to Urahara. The researcher heaved a cheerless sigh and flopped unceremoniously down to join them, reaching for his own cup, which had been kept warm thanks to a small spell. Swishing the liquor around in his mouth, he swallowed and breathed out.

"I'm inclined to agree with your initial assessment, dear Yoruichi. Whoever this girl might be, she's not your average shinigami. My reiatsu half-life meter indicates that she has indeed been in close contact with at least two of our little mischief-makers. In addition to this, there are several more captain-level prints left in her aura. Our mystery guest seems to move in some very high circles."

A thoughtful look passed over the brown-skinned beauty's face. "And what about Byakuya?"

"Definitely. His stamp is so strong, he must be in close contact with her every single day. At least in the same room. The insignia in her robes says she's with the Thirteenth, so they're not in the same squad." Kisuke turned a questioning look upon his accomplice. "You're certain that she's of no relation?"

Yoruichi shrugged. "He got married, last I heard. That was over five years ago. Nothing else has reached my ears since then. This might be his wife." Her tone gave no indication of having an opinion on the matter. Instead she groaned and stretched out on the floor, running her fingers through her hair to let it drape around her head. "Ah, but I miss having an army of spies and eavesdroppers at my disposal. Being uninformed sucks!"

Tessai crossed his arms, head sinking forward in deliberation and brow creasing in a frown. Eventually, he inhaled deeply, and spoke what he perceived they were all thinking.

"What say you both? Do we kill her or not?"

His two accomplices exchanged glances again. Urahara seemed to ponder this, while Yoruichi peered through her lashes at the ceiling. The shopkeeper was the first to break the silence.

"You say that she didn't seem aware of what was going on?"

"You mean about being used as bait?" she countered. "No. She never gave any indication of figuring things out."

The mustachioed muscleman kept his head bowed. "It does seem clear that the objective of this affair was to lure that mega-Hollow out of hiding. When the plane crash didn't prove enough to catch its attention, Aizen must have decided to finally let news of the disaster get through to Soul Society. He probably supposed they would send a shinigami strong enough to handle any problems."

"All those people, killed for no other reason except to serve as a lure," Urahara mused.

"You didn't feel this thing, Kisuke," Yoruichi sat back up. "Trust me, it wouldn't have roused itself for just a little Hollow bait. You'd have needed something big just to get its attention. And we all saw the results of your analysis, from both me and the girl. It was definitely _vasto lorde_."

"Right in our own backyard," he mused dreamily. "Who would have guessed it? Clearly a smart one, too, seeing as how it used the ocean to keep from leaving any trace of its presence in this world. All that cleansing water washed away most of its reiatsu taint. There was hardly enough on you to get a good read. No wonder they've had such a hard time finding it. Mayuri would be foaming at the mouth if he knew he might get his hands on one outside of Hueco Mundo's dead zone."

Tessai interposed then. "Speaking of dampening effects, Yoruichi and I were discussing something while you were away. Based on her testimony, I think it's safe to assume that one of those arrancar she saw was interfering with any Hollow spirit signatures. That's why she couldn't sense them or their quarry until her spell broke its concentration."

"We've heard of this phenomenon before." Urahara pulled out what looked to be a calculator and began calling up information on the screen. "The last time was when the Squad Three captain bought it, and we all know who stepped in to replace her."

"Gin." Yoruichi took another drink, as if to wash the vile taste of that name out of her mouth.

"Yup, our own beloved toothy-faced maniac. But that wasn't the only time. There was that academy first-grade class konsō debacle way back when, remember? All those Huge Hollows just waltzed in right under Soul Society's nose and made a bloodbath out of some of their most promising young all-stars."

"Well, now I've seen the one responsible for that," the were-cat shot back. "I'm positive that female arrancar was the one doing the shielding. She was definitely the head of that particular pack. Must be pretty high up in Aizen's ranks to warrant bringing him one of the big fish. And that just goes to prove what I've been saying all along: he'd never risk someone that useful unless it was extremely important. Like taking out a captain. So that slaughter of the students had to have been more than just depriving the Gotei 13 of a few potential fighters."

"Momo Hinamori, Izuru Kira, and Hisagi Shuhei." Tessai brought the names up from his well-trained memory. "All three were survivors of that night, and each of them has gone on to be third seat or higher in their respective divisions. Divisions that just so happen to be captained by our enemies."

The flaxen-haired pharmacist clicked shut his notepad. "You're forgetting one name. Abarai Renji."

"He's under Aizen, the company's twelfth seat, as I recall." Tessai pushed his glasses higher up his nose and appraised the other man. "I'm surprised to find _you_ remembered the name, Kisuke."

"I had a bit of a refresher," Urahara smiled lazily back. "You'll never believe whose reiatsu I found deeply intertwined with our dreaming angel's, almost like they've known each other for decades."

"_Her?_" Purple eyebrows lifted up in disbelief. "Just who is this girl, anyway?"

"I'd like to find out. And this brings us neatly back to the original question. If we want to come out on top after the dust settles, then some risks will have to be taken. And I must admit, I'm dying with curiosity. That sleeping beauty might have more than a few secrets tucked away in her pretty little noggin. My vote is that we let her live, and see what she can reveal to us."

"I concur," Tessai raised his head and gave an approving nod. "Even if she is one of them, I dislike the thought of casually dispatching her without any solid proof to support it. We all swore to use our own good judgment and not be ruled by the example of Soul Society anymore. This seems like a good opportunity to act on that vow."

Yoruichi jumped up, enjoying how both men couldn't resist staring at the resultant bouncing this entailed. She grinned deviously. "Seeing as how the tally is already two out of three in favor of acquittal, I am more than happy to vote in favor with you gentlemen. Of course, we'll have to be careful not to spill too many secrets ourselves, now won't we?"

A fan blossomed in Kisuke's fingers, and he flicked it open to hide the matching smirk that accompanied her own. "Why, captain, we both know that I am the absolute soul of discretion. By all means, let us go and acquaint our guest with the hospitality of this happy home!"

The tribunal then exited their counsel chambers. Lying insensate in the next room, Rukia Kuchiki slept not knowing that her continued existence had just hung on the decision of three well-known traitors.

_To be continued…_


	11. Mortal Realm: Family and Friends

"Wakey-wakey!"

Someone was speaking to her. Had she been snoozing? Rukia could not remember having gone to bed. Maybe she had fallen asleep in class? But that didn't sound like any of her instructors. Damn it, Renji, why can't you wake me up when I doze off? See if I heal you next time you burn your short-hairs at Hadō practice!

A light came on above her, and she opened her eyes.

When the unfamiliarity of her surroundings sank in, Kuchiki bolted upright on her futon.

"Hello, there! How are we feeling?"

She turned her head, to find a man sitting by the doorway.

He was wearing a plain green hakama and coat. There was a cane propped against his shoulder, and some peculiar type of head covering that overshadowed his eyes as well as a tangle of messy blonde hair. Everything about his posture spoke of being loosely relaxed, and this was supported by the lazy smile that was being directed at her. Even his voice was laconic and murmuring, unrestrained. Rather soothing, actually.

I've never seen this man before.

Where am I?

A quick glance around told her nothing. A small room of no particular distinguishing characteristics. Looking down, Rukia found that she was dressed only in her white inner robe. Folded neatly beside her was her death god shihakusho, and laying on top of that was her zanpakutō. A blanket, a futon… and, of course, him.

This is still the mortal world. And he's…

Warm.

I feel warm. Not only that, I can feel the blanket, and the floor. They're not impermanent anymore. Like I'm a part of this world. Which means something has changed very drastically since I last awoke.

Time for questions.

Without moving, the wary waif turned back to the other occupant. "What am I doing here, and what have you done to me?"

Her mystery companion made a sucking sound with his teeth, then settled into a cross-legged position, the cane resting on his knees. He didn't seem offended by her dismissal of his greetings, but that sense of relaxation had been consciously dropped. Reaching up, the man doffed his hat. Without the obstruction, it suddenly became evident that his eyes were an unusual gray color, like storm clouds.

It came back to her. Clouds, over the water. In deepest darkness, there had suddenly come light, but that was just a presage for the true night. That vast, cold, threatening presence reaching out for her, and the impression of being drawn into its awful clutches before…

Something rubbed up against her then, and meowed. Startled, Kuchiki looked down to find a black cat nuzzling its head against her knees. It looked up at her briefly, giving a glimpse of eyes like sunlight flashing off metal, so bright that she felt this strange body flush with heat upon making contact with them. Then they were closed again, and the black tabby continued rubbing its whiskers against her. Maybe she likes my scent, the bemused maiden thought. Acting on instinct, she reached down and gathered her admirer up, bringing it into the warm embrace of her lap. The cat settled in there, wrapping its tail around itself and purring contentedly. Rukia stroked the sleek body, marveling at the way its fur seemed to register under her new hands. Really, just what was going on here?

"Awww, look at that. She likes you!"

She glanced up, to find the man once more grinning merrily. He had a fan open now, and was waving it enthusiastically in the air, the cloth bag again on his head. Was this person some type of performer? He looks pretty ridiculous right now.

"Please forgive me for any discourtesies, young lady. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the owner of this fine establishment you find yourself in. While I have many titles, ranging from 'good master shopkeeper' to 'deadbeat con artist', the appellation by which I am most often known is one of unforgettable majesty! Generous to my friends, feared by my enemies, I am everyone and I am no one! On my birth, the earth did quake, and lightning spelled out a name in the heavens by which I would forever be known!"

Suddenly a ball that had hung unnoticed from the ceiling over his head popped with a puff of smoke, and streamers and confetti blossomed out in a colorful rain. They fluttered down about him, and in the midst of this extravagant display, the showman leapt to his feet, struck a pose with his cane planted firmly on the floor, and looking back at her over his shoulder, whispered two words.

"Kisuke… Urahara!"

Rukia felt the urge to applaud this performance, because it now became clear that she was in the presence of a professional clown. In her lap, she could have sworn she heard the cat snort indelicately.

Oh, wait, he just introduced himself. Royal training suddenly took over her reactions.

"Pleased to meet you."

And she gave a small bow of her head.

He seemed to be waiting for her to say more, and when nothing came, the man visibly deflated. Had he expected her to recognize the name? That was odd behavior for a mortal, if that was indeed what he was. But really, she had no desire to play games. It was high time somebody did a bit of explaining.

Before she could open her mouth, though, the man darted forward and knelt before her, causing Rukia to flinch slightly. His fan was covering his mouth now, and there was no more merriment to be found in those steely orbs.

"And what is your name, good lady?"

There was something plainly disturbing about the atmosphere in the room now. Should she lie, or refuse to respond?

Looking into his eyes, suddenly any thought of prevarication died away, and she found herself speaking without conscious control.

"Rukia."

A slight tilt to the head. "Rukia…?"

Questioning, clearly. Don't tell him. Don't speak the name, it could be dangerous, who knows what this man might…

"Kuchiki… sir."

Something stirred under her hands, but she could not focus on that now. There was only the sight of gray irises and black pupils, in which she could see herself reflected clearly, and the look on her own face was one of wide-eyed fright.

Then the fan dropped away.

"Gaaaaaah…"

His mouth was hanging open, and his tongue with it. He then shut his jaw so fast he bit his tongue, and fell back onto his rear, clutching his face. After a moment of muffled cursing and leg flailing, though, Urahara removed his fingers and stared at her.

"_K-K-KUCHIKI?"_

In a flash he was down on his knees, hands on the floor and face pressed into the straw mats in the traditional posture of submission.

"Forgive this poor wretched penitent, oh sublime noble lady! Please allow me to make this up to you in my own small way! Jinta! Ururu! Refreshments for our guest!"

He clapped his hands over his still-bowed head. A door swept open behind her, and Rukia caught a faint glimpse of two small figures moving very quickly, laying down a low table. They darted from the room before she could distinguish anything more about them, and then apparently returned to lay down bowl after bowl of food. There was fine fluffy white rice, piled high in a resplendently glazed bowl and steaming in mouthwatering fashion. Then came fugu, sliced expertly to avoid any trace of blowfish venom entering the diner's system. Whale bacon fizzled fresh from the grill, while steamed vegetables warmed the air with their aroma. There was dragon fruit jelly mooncake, as well as skewers laden with beef, vegetables and tofu dripping with sauce and their own juices. A large platter housed such traditional fare as soba noodles, deep-fried tempura, sashimi, and shabu-shabu complete with a dish of hot water to dip the beef into. The middle of the table was kept clear, and into this came all the dishes peculiar to that most refined and culturally distinctive repast, Kaiseki Ryori. A smaller table was then brought in, and on this were several jugs and cups of saké of the highest quality.

Voice muffled by the carpet, Kisuke called again.

"Tessai! Play to entertain the princess!"

Rukia's head whipped around as a door off to the side slid open. Crouched there ramrod straight was a giant of a man with black hair that looked like a marimo algae ball had been slapped on top of his head. He wore glasses and a neatly trimmed moustache, and his bare arms were thick with muscle. In those massive hands was clutched the frailest most antique shamisen instrument she had ever seen.

Fingers the size of crab claws then began to pluck at the strings, and the most beautiful and subtle melody rose from the instrument, letting the notes resonate in the air before sliding smoothly into the next refrain.

"And for your enjoyment I, Kisuke Urahara, shall dance for you, my lady!"

The capped comedian then sprang to his feet and began to prance around the room, using fan and cane as props to highlight his performance. Strutting and gamboling about, he managed to look both elegant and laughably ridiculous. Kisuke kicked his feet up high, his loose flapping pants displaying hairy legs and sometimes more than that. And the whole time, he never stopped talking.

"We are so very, very humbled to have a personage of such high renown gracing our unworthy shop, oh forgiving mistress. Someone so superlative, so forgiving, could surely overlook any unintended insults we might have tendered. Forgiveness is divine, so if you could find it in your heart to forgive us, we can all forgive and forget, and forget we ever had to forgive this ever happened. Forgive, forgive, forgive. Let's sing a song about it! TESSAI!" He clapped his hands. "Sing about forgiveness!"

A thrum of the strings. "oooooohhhhh…!"

"NO!"

The music cut off with a sharp twang. Behind her, the servers stopped in their preparation of a Man Han Chuan Shi course. Kisuke froze in mid-leap, and promptly crashed to the ground as a result.

Rukia remained where she sat. Not a single muscle was permitted to twitch, but the vein throbbing in her temple would have caused any competent doctor to suspect a brain aneurysm. Her flashing purple eyes were filled with tears that could have been from restrained laughter or abject misery. That, or some very sharp claws that had dug into her thighs briefly.

"I do not need for you to entertain or feed me. Right now, all I want is an explanation for how I came to be here."

Urahara managed to use his cane to lever himself upright. "But my lady," he panted, "You are of royal blood, it would be discourteous for us not to provide…"

"My name is royal, not my blood!" she snapped. "I am not a Kuchiki by birth, I was adopted, all right? Now can we please move on to explanations?"

The cat had retracted its claws from her flesh around this point, and again settled comfortably into its warm seat, apparently content once more.

"Well, Miss Kuchiki…"

"What?"

He paused. "Pardon?"

"You just called me something, what was it?"

Kisuke glanced back and forth between her and Tessai. "Do you mean 'miss'?" When she nodded, he said, "Oh, well, that's a European form of polite honorific for unattached young ladies of good standing. Is this a problem?"

His audience considered this for a moment. "No… I suppose not. Please forgive my interruption, pray continue."

"Actually, M… Miss Kuchiki, you were brought to our attention by a very public disturbance regarding souls, Hollows, and an oceanic expanse. I can't actually speak to a first-hand account of the events…"

"Then who can?"

"No one alive." He said that statement with as nonchalant a face as was humanly possible. "But the details are not important. What matters is that you came to us in complete shock from the experience…"

"What experience? I don't remember anything that makes sense."

"Your experience prior to material transition. So, in order to stabilize your spirit and prevent any long-term damage, we placed you into a gigai that we had in stock, very high quality maintenance, only 30,000 Yen on the dollar, no layaways, sorry, I've lost money that way…"

"You have gigai handy? Forgive me, but who are you, exactly?"

"The shop's owner, Kisuke Urahara, a dead man in a gigai, and _persona non grata_ from Soul Society. And yes, we do. So anyway…"

"What language is that?"

"Latin. Once you were safely ensconced in a material form, we moved you to a room where you could get some rest and recuperate from your ordeal. And that is what we like to call the long and short of it."

This exchange was followed by several seconds of everyone just staring at one another.

Rukia was still perplexed in spite of the preceding conversation. She found that some of this consternation was dispelled by stroking the fur of the midnight bundle settled in her lap. Apparently the feeling was mutual, for the feline began to purr in a most charming manner. And that added to her own improving sense of well-being. While it was true that she could recall very little of what had gone on before, the overwhelming impression that remained was that she had been in a very bad spot. In fact, Rukia had the distinct feeling that she had been as close to death back there as she had ever been in the streets of Western Rukongai. And by whatever chance or miracle, she had survived, and found herself in friendly (if awkward) company. So perhaps now was the time to express a little gratitude.

With this being decided, she locked eyes with the blonde chatterbox and inclined her head meaningfully. "Urahara-san, I am most grateful for the sanctuary you have provided to me. If there is any way I can be of service to you, please do not hesitate to ask."

He brightened several shades from that remark. "Actually, Miss Kuchiki, there is something you can do for us." Kisuke moved in to take a seat before her, respectful and proper. "All of us here," and he gestured to Tessai and himself, "are, as I said, not among the living, but we exist among them all the same. Due to the special circumstances of our existence, we're still able to carry on some form of commerce with our old home in Soul Society. In terms of goods and services, this is a most satisfactory and beneficial arrangement for both sides. But regarding news and information, we're somewhat parched. So, I was just thinking. It will take about a day before you've recovered sufficiently to warrant slipping out of that on-loan suit you're sporting. No charge, by the way, no charge, glad to be of service to a death god in need. But perhaps, in the intermediate space of time, you would be so kind as to inform us as to what might be afoot in the old haunt. To put it simply, we'd like to get some gossip."

"Oh." She considered this request. "Well, certainly, I would…"

Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang, and at its chime, Kisuke sprang up.

"Customer!" he proclaimed, and the rest of his crew roared into action. Passing by where she sat, he glanced down with a wry grin. "We're still open for business. Would it trouble you too much to sit in on our workplace and get us up to speed in between orders?"

Rukia blinked in shock. "Well… no, actually, that is quite all right."

"Beautiful!" he exclaimed, and then trotted out of the room, his headwear perched at a jaunty angle and cane over his shoulder. Kuchiki was about to follow, when she remembered the cat. Dislodging it was somewhat of a nuisance, but before she could postulate a viable scenario for comfortably removing it, of a sudden the issue was resolved for her. A black streak shot up and draped itself around her shoulders. It was rather like wearing a silk scarf with a pulse and claws. Not uncomfortable. In fact, the farthest thing from it. Apparently at least one person in the room knew what they wanted. And perhaps there was a sort of family tradition at work here.

Out loud, she only said, "I wonder what Byakuya-niisama would think."

A soft meow was her only reply.

* * *

"What sort of soul candy are they selling out of over there?"

"Chappy. It's been popular ever since I was in the academy."

"Oh! When did you graduate? Is old Gengoro still making life miserable for the students?

"I didn't. And yes, he is. Are you an academy attendee?"

"Briefly. Nothing special to speak of."

"Tessai-san, you?"

"My time in Soul Society left no lasting mark, Lady Kuchiki. I doubt there are a handful who would remember me."

"Have there been any phenomenal students of late? Any designees who have been fast-tracked to captain?"

"No. The last person to become a captain was…"

"Ah, yes, fine choice, thank you for stopping by. Remember us at triple coupon day! I'm sorry, you were saying, Miss Kuchiki?"

"… my brother. Byakuya Kuchiki. He's the first seat of Squad Six now."

"Ah, the torch has been passed! It's so rare for a captaincy to open up. What was the last division to require a replacement, anyway?"

"I… believe it was… the Third."

"Are they doing well under their new leader?"

"I wouldn't know. The Third and the Thirteenth do not collaborate very often."

"Do they, now? That's a shame. Tessai, would you tell Jinta to stock item #B479?"

"Right away, boss."

"So, what are the conditions like outside the walls of Seireitei, might I ask? Is the Fourth still performing its services to all those in need? Any progress with civilizing Zaraki?"

"You know the captain?"

"What?"

"What?"

"..."

"I'm sorry, I meant…"

"No, please forgive me. I should allow you to draw breath between questions."

"It's all right. To answer your questions in order, the Rukongai remains much the same. Squad Four continues to live up to that number's poor omen in terms of sheer lowly duties assigned them, to my knowledge. And Zaraki is an eyesore now and forever, to our eternal disgrace."

"Hey, move your skinny butt, woudja, I'm not carrying this coz it's fun!"

"Wha…! Who…?"

"Jinta! What sort of way is that to speak to our esteemed guest?"

"She's just standin' there, s'not my fault, you said you wanted this!"

"Who… are you?"

"No excuses. Apologize to Miss Kuchiki at once."

"…sorry…"

"She can't hear you, Jinta."

"SORRY, all right? Can I go now?"

"Yes, by all means. Honestly, you work hard, you try and raise them right, and they still make your life miserable. Miss Kuchiki, are you feeling all right? You're seeming a little pale."

"No… it's fine, please don't trouble yourself. I just… had the strangest feeling of recognition there."

"Oh. Would you like to sample some of our wares for that?"

"I don't believe that will be necessary."

"Ah, and look, here comes Tessai with tea! Bless you, Tessai, what would we do without you? Come, let's have a little break. Ururu, please put up the closed sign."

"Yes, sir."

"…"

"Miss Kuchiki?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing. It smells lovely."

* * *

Yoruichi and Urahara were sitting on opposite sides of Rukia's silent form. The tea had been spiked with a sufficient quantity of sedative to make her sleepiness unavoidable but still seem natural. Once they had helped her back to bed, their private discussion had begun.

"So she's his adopted sister," the lanky academic mused. "That's certainly a surprise."

"Speaking of shocks," his lifelong friend looked up sharply, "what did you do to those two golems of yours? I certainly don't remember them looking like that prior to today, and she seemed to take it rather hard."

"Oh, you mean Jinta and Ururu?" He waved a hand. "Well, they've been requiring an infusion to stabilize them for a while now. Wouldn't have done to have two little versions of you and me running around, people would have started jumping to conclusions. I simply borrowed some of Lady Kuchiki's shinigami reiatsu profile to give them the upgrade and facelift. The boy got the most prominent male's reiatsu, and the girl got the lady's. I was thinking that they would come out looking more like her and Byakuya, but that proved only half right. I can only assume Jinta's new look is owing to the influence of her friend Abarai. Ururu seems to have gotten the better deal out of it."

"They look enough alike now to be sisters," Yoruichi supplied. "Right down to those locks of hair hanging between their eyes. Lucky for you she didn't see what they looked like beforehand, or we might have had some explaining to do."

"I could have handled it. I'm fast on my feet."

"I'm faster."

"Show-off."

Before another word could be said, Tsukabishi's massive frame slid through the slightly ajar door. He settled in between them both, sitting at Rukia's head. For a time the silent sorcerer only gazed down on her, frowning. His comrades did not interrupt. After a bit, he began to speak.

"The spell should have taken affect by now. I'm going to bring her around."

With that, Tessai bent down, and whispered in Kuchiki's ear. He then came back up.

They waited.

Ten seconds. Thirty. A minute.

Nothing happened.

"Incredible," Urahara breathed. "I never would have thought I'd see _Cloud Over Moon_ fail to have an effect, and especially from you, Tessai." He then glanced meaningfully over at his ally. "We all know what this means."

"Yes," Tessai shook his head despondently. "She's already had the spell cast on her, and it's still active. Whoever did it is far stronger than me. My attempt at overriding it clearly had no reaction at all."

Yoruichi rested her cheek on one upraised knee curiously. "Shouldn't we have seen some change in her condition?"

The master magician pondered this. "With both of our spells in her, there might be an interaction somewhere along the way. But if this didn't do it, it would take something much more drastic and potentially damaging to cause any resurfacing of memories. Like an intense shock to her spirit. A near-death experience, say, or maybe just swallowing a lot of kidō-mixed drinks, enough to cause her body to try and reject anything foreign to her system. But as I said, that would be harmful to her."

"It's Aizen."

The other two looked over at Kisuke, who was gazing down at their prisoner's peaceful features thoughtfully. "He's already demonstrated his superiority over you in spell-casting, Tessai, I hate to recall. And something like this would be right up his alley. In addition, hardly anyone even knows about this charm these days, much less finds a need to put it into practice. But if you want to keep a secret between someone, and have it available whenever you need it without blatantly messing up the person's head, this is just the way to do it. Give them a drink, have an honest heart-to-heart conversation about overthrowing Soul Society, and then cast the locking mechanism. They blank out completely, and you're safe until you or someone you trust reinstitutes the precise memory charm."

Now the Shihoin noblewoman reached over and ran slim fingers through the girl's luxurious raven tresses. "Do you think she could really be one of them? A seed those three planted, waiting to germinate?"

"And why her?" Tessai rumbled. "What interest could Sōsuke have in someone like this?"

"Well, the obvious answer is that she's close to Byakuya," Urahara drawled laconically. "It could be that she's a sleeper, set up to wait for the opportune moment. When they've dropped their charade and the real battle starts, it would only take a word from her master to remember her true mission and stab our good Lord Kuchiki in the back."

"No."

Now all eyes turned to Yoruichi. The svelte shapeshifter continued to caress Rukia's hair gently, almost affectionately. "We're talking about Aizen, remember? Since when is the obvious answer the right one where he's concerned? She didn't lie once the whole time we were questioning her. You weren't close enough to smell her when she mentioned Byakuya before, Kisuke. This child is absolutely terrified of him. No matter what they might have convinced her to do, that sort of fear can't be curtailed by pretty words, arguments or even threats. _Cloud Over Moon _isn't some kind of mind control. The only way she could stab Byakuya in the back would be if he had already been cut to ribbons, and even then, she'd probably be too scared to get close. And that's nothing compared to what she was feeling when she even obliquely mentioned Gin. Her scent and heart rate weren't the only things talking to me. It felt like her soul went dead with fear. No way she could ever ally herself with him."

Their green-garbed philosopher settled back on his palms. "Maybe that's it. Perhaps our young lady is sufficiently scared enough of Ichimaru to do whatever he tells her to, even cut down a man whom she's only marginally less intimidated by."

Brown fingers stilled in their ministrations. "She's a good person. Frightened and confused, but decent at heart. I can't see her committing murder against someone who has never directly done her any harm."

"I'm only voicing some options here."

"I concur," Tessai spoke. "The spell of my shamisen revealed much about her to me. Her heart is seeking solace and comfort, and she responds to the open hearts of others. There is a part of her that naturally inclines to men, and not so much women. Perhaps she was raised by her father, or a brother. There is much we do not know about this little shinigami."

"That's another thing I wanted to discuss with you both. I came upon something interesting in my initial examinations of her soul. I wasn't sure what to make of it before, but after some study, there seems to be only one satisfactory explanation, in my opinion. One that could demystify our enemies' interest in her."

Yoruichi raised an eyebrow. "And that would be?"

"Well, based upon her anima and the progression of its rhythm, it's my assessment that Rukia Kuchiki didn't start life with any soul powers." He turned and studied the shinigami appraisingly. "So the question arises: how did she become a death god?"

The troika all now regarded that recumbent soul, but no answers were forthcoming from her.

* * *

From out in the hall, a sweet voice called, "Are you certain you don't require any assistance, Miss Kuchiki?"

She scowled. If he persisted in his slightly perverse attempts at gallantry, she would be sorely pressed not to punch him in the balls, unladylike behavior or not. Rukia adjusted her sash, tightening it securely.

"Thank you, I am quite capable."

She slid the door open. Seated outside, Urahara directed a broad smile up at her from his position on the floor. Hopping upright, he bowed and extended his cane out down the hall. "Right this way, if you please. Our Senkaimon is at your service."

She could have opened a portal at any place or time following her return to normal, but for some reason the gregarious businessman had insisted on performing this service for Her Ladyship, as he called her. Now once again unencumbered by the demands of a faux body, Rukia flitted lightly down the hall. She was feeling remarkably buoyant; perhaps the disparity of wearing flesh had served to sharpen the appreciation for her natural existence as a spirit. It was hard to imagine that she might have ever started out living in such a world. There was so much weighing you down at every waking moment, it felt like you were tied to the ground with boulders around your feet. Her movements had felt forced and unnatural. And the living went through one hundred years of this? It sounded like a torment from the greatest of hells. Perhaps it was for the best that she bore no recollection of her time here.

At her side, Kisuke Urahara fairly floated in his corporeal form. There was no trace of unease or discomfort on his part. Whoever he really was, apparently he had been living in exile for long enough to become accustomed to the crushing weight of life. It had occurred to Rukia that she might ask what precisely had caused him and his peculiar brood to be forced to take up residence here. However, courtesy would not allow for that. As disturbing and off-putting as some of them may be, there was little doubt that she owed her continued safety to their efforts. And they had treated her well. For the most part. Certainly there had been more warmth and consideration to be found in this place than Kuchiki manor. In a way, it reminded her of the old gang growing up back in Inuzuri, all free-spirited and mildly distressing. No lingering sense of dread or fear about what the day might bring. This place was clearly a home.

She only wished that it could have been hers.

But I already made my choice, Rukia thought. No sense trying to back out now. I'm nobility, and a shinigami. I have my duties to attend to. It's not all bad. Not much excitement, but I can live with that.

Turning into the room her guide indicated, the resolute guardian of the dead found Tessai Tsukabishi standing by a trapdoor leading down into the wooden floor. There was a surprising amount of light coming out of it. Like daytime, really. The hulking handyman gave her a most courteous bow that would have done a member of the aristocracy proud. She accorded him a sincere smile, and proceeded to step down into that subterranean space.

Steps led into a massive cavern. The roof was outfitted to act like a version of the sky, lending one the impression that they were walking into another world. Aside from that vista overhead, there was little to see. Lots of crags, bluffs, and rocky spires. If anyone needed a clue as to interior decorating, it was whomever had constructed this place. Like something out of the hells reserved for boredom this time. Its only appeal seemed to be that if you broke anything, no one would care. Was that what this place was designed for? A training facility? If so, just who were they training?

While she was thinking this, Kuchiki reached the bottom. A second later Kisuke skipped past her, sandals clacking against the bare rock.

"Follow me, princess! Your chariot awaits!"

His gait lead them both to a strangely constructed Spirit Gate further back from the entrance. Rukia had never seen a passageway like this before. As if reading her mind, the sprightly merchant turned and beckoned back towards this edifice.

"I got it cheap from an old friend of mine. They had fallen on hard times, and could use the cash. I was glad to lend a helping hand. It's been modified somewhat, so there's no way to tell where you've come from, or come back through. You understand, of course, a person of your inestimable standing should not be seen consorting with disreputable characters such as us. But we've kept you here long enough! Jinta, Ururu, if you'd be so kind?"

The eerily familiar pair of adolescents appeared from either side of the portal. Pressing their palms against it, they intoned a ritualized chant, and half a second later, the gates swung wide.

As if on cue, a hell butterfly immediately fluttered out and attached itself to Rukia. She knew at once that it had been waiting specifically for her, to guide her back to where she belonged.

Where do I belong?

That question came back to her once again. To tell the truth, she had felt more comfortable and relaxed among this gaggle of misfits than she had ever experienced in the Court of Pure Souls. There was an easy camaraderie here that had nothing to do with combat, advancement, social hierarchy, and secrets. Surely there was more to this crew than was readily apparent, but the fact remained that in just one day of being around them and walking in their world, she had come to relate to these souls and their domain far more than anyone among the afterlife's elite and their enforcers.

_Don't go. Stay here. This place is safe._

That voice in the back of her head again. It was like her own, but its persistent refusal to obey her conscious inclinations had led her to wonder just whom it really belonged to. Maybe if I stay, I can find out. If I remain here, this place could be my home. These people know how to stay out of sight. Byakuya Kuchiki, Gin Ichimaru, they would never find me. I could stay hidden forever.

But I won't.

_Why?_

Because I'm afraid.

And if I choose to stay here, I always will be. Living on the run, waiting for someone to catch up to me, just like being back in the ghettoes that sprang up around the Seireitei. But if I return, there are people who are helping me to find a way to fight against my fears. Lieutenant Shiba, Captain Ukitake. And Renji. What will become of him if I'm not there to watch his back? He'd wind up dead in an alley somewhere, no doubt. He never learned to keep his mouth shut. You gotta kick him in the teeth sometimes to make that happen. Who better than me to do it? I've got the experience.

I made my decision.

So resolved, Rukia Kuchiki turned and bowed to Urahara Kisuke and Tessai Tsukabishi. "I thank you both for all that you have done for me. If there is any way I can be of help in resolving the difficulties that you have found yourselves in, please do not hesitate to contact me."

The taller man returned her bow. "It has been a most distinct privilege to have met you, good lady."

"We're here when you need us, Miss Kuchiki," his compatriot saluted her with two fingers. "This old man would welcome seeing your face at his door. I'll even offer you a discount on Kanto-brand Pocky! Got a big shipment last week, straight from the factory in Taiwan. It'll sell out soon, so don't wait too long, now!"

She didn't know what to make of that statement, so Rukia just nodded noncommittally. Turning back about, she inclined her head in a similar respectful fashion to the gatekeepers. The dark-haired girl blushed and curtsied, spreading her skirts while retaining an expression of morose resignation, while the redheaded boy ignored her completely. Finding nothing else left to say, she was just about to step forward, when something moved against her feet.

Looking down, the black-robed death god found a cat of similar hue looking up at her patiently.

Rukia bent and stroked her hand slowly along the kitty's back, watching it arch its tail stiffly in a blissful manner. A rough tongue gave her hand one last lick, and she felt its damp nose press into her flesh. It might be nice to have a companion like this back at the family estate. Unfortunately, nii-sama apparently had forbidden any cats in his home. Why was anyone's guess, and she certainly wasn't about to ask him. So this would have to be goodbye.

"Take care, little one," she whispered.

The cat looked up at her.

And nodded.

Then it turned and dashed off, heading back up the stairs.

That had been a tad unusual. But oh, well. With a final look back, Rukia headed into the open door. Her spirit guide took off to lead them on the way home.

Whatever that might prove to be.

* * *

Yoruichi Shihoin had resumed her human form and now sat on the roof of the Urahara Shop, watching the stars. As usual, she neglected to clothe herself. After all, the wind could not touch a ghost, and there was hardly a chance that anyone with eyes to see her would come wandering along at this time of night.

She had taken her last breath of the scent of her lover off that young woman's body. For the time being, that was all she would be permitted. Yoruichi had to admit, for a while there, she had been understandably jealous of that little Rukia. After all, it had seemed like this might be the other woman who had come into Byakuya's life several years ago. But her feminine suspicion had been dispelled. Upon learning that this unattached child from the poorest districts of the spirit realm was now little Byakuya's sibling by choice, a sort of queer sisterly fondness had grown in her heart.

How much her new younger sister failed to understand. There was no one in all of creation less likely to harm her than that man. If ever he took someone under the cloak of his protection, that barrier would forevermore serve as an inviolate shield against all that life or death could throw at them. Byakuya Kuchiki did not give out his affection haphazardly, and when he did, there was no reason to complain of a dearth. He could be impetuous and not give sufficient consideration to his actions, but when it came to his heart, she had never known him to go wrong. At least, in her experience.

If that's so, though, then why have you never approached him since then? Afraid of what he might have become after having been subjected to the crushing weight of a lordship, a captaincy, and all their restrictions? Are you a scaredy-cat, Yoruichi?

At times like these, she missed the company of her own zanpakutō, and it was necessary to fill in for it at times. You could only be alone for so long.

"Ho, there, Yoruichi!"

Speak of the devil.

Clambering awkwardly up the tiled roof came sweet lovable reliable Urahara. He was beaming in a way that she hadn't seen in several years, happy in his mysteries and vexing problems. Perhaps Rukia's presence had done them all more good than was readily apparent. A shame she had to leave so soon.

"What brings you out here on this fine, glorious evening, my dear lady captain?"

As he settled in beside her, a flask and two drinking cups appeared from his capacious sleeves. Pouring, he offered her a drink, which she accepted. The topic of her nudity did not come up this time.

"I wanted to see the stars," she replied honestly.

"You can get a lot better look at them outside of town," he opined.

Yoruichi nodded, continuing to stare heavenward. "They're supposed to be omens of our futures, aren't they? And yet they never seem to change. But we do. So where's the correlation?"

"Maybe we're just too far removed to pick up on their changes."

He had hit the nail on the head without even realizing it. That was exactly what was troubling her, and she turned to regard him steadily.

"How much do we really know, Kisuke? What are we missing?"

He doffed his cap, looking back at her with a face devoid of jocularity or whimsy. "What are you referring to exactly?"

She let the cup of brew settle back on the peak of the roof, drawing her long muscular legs up to her chest. "We're far away from Soul Society now, so we can act as observers, seeing patterns and warnings that they are blind to, even when standing right next to them. But what if we're operating on the same arrogant assumption? Believing that we are the only ones who know what's really going on, and why. Why is all this happening, anyway? Why are they seeking to destroy that world at all? What's their real motive?"

He thought about this. Really thought. She could see that. At last the exiled scientist spoke. "They're trying to address what they perceive to be the faults in the system. A lack of justice, willful disregard for anything that goes against the grain, and unwillingness to change. As far as they're concerned, there's a void in the afterlife. One of power, and thought. Those three are trying to fill that void with themselves. And destroying the old order will lead to a better one, by their way of thinking." Sitting back, his smoky gaze also turned to the stars. "And to be honest, after what those benighted high-browed bastards did to us, I wouldn't be all that sorry if they did."

Yoruichi felt his anger, a simmering frustrated rage and resentment that lurked below the surface of this outwardly kind and cheerful soul. She understood why he would come to such a conclusion.

But she had to disagree with him.

"I think you're wrong, Kisuke."

This was not a phrase that got used in his presence very often. So when it did, the genius shinigami regarded the one who uttered it with a mixture of wonder and hurt.

"About what?"

In response, Yoruichi reached out and took his hand, raising it up between them.

"That right there, what you described? That would be our reason for wanting to lay waste to King and Country. It makes sense to us. And maybe our enemies really do think along those lines, I won't deny that possibility. But something just doesn't feel right about all this. So I have to ask again: what are we missing?"

Her accomplice regarded her over their conjoined fists. There was a slight gleam coming into his eyes, the philosopher seeking to solve a mystery that he couldn't even properly put into words. At length, his gaze traveled upwards, and once more he took in the sight of the celestial ceiling that graced their adopted home.

"Ill omens, maybe?" he murmured.

And something about the way he said it stirred a memory in Yoruichi. Once more, she heard that young woman's voice speaking.

_Number. Poor omen,_ the speed goddess mouthed.

Where is my head going with this?

After a few minutes of sitting quietly together, she finally felt able to express something halfway coherent. There was no real sense behind it. Just a feeling. But that feeling felt _right!_

"Kisuke." When she had his full attention she continued. "What Rukia said, about four being an unlucky number. Something just occurred to me. We're the only ones who know who the real traitors are. That's what we tell ourselves at night before we go to sleep, to console our wounded pride. Three of them. Aizen and his two flunkies. Right?"

"Yeah, that count sounds accurate." He took a sip of saké.

"Well, what if our math is off?"

"I don't quite follow you."

He was just about to have another drink, when she reached up and took the saucer from him. Urahara looked at her strangely, and Yoruichi held the drink up before his face.

"_Cloud Over Moon_," she whispered. "You said it yourself. Who would bother to know such a spell? It's an old, outdated trick, not used for centuries. A drinker's game, to play on your friends when you want to keep knowledge of your drunken indiscretions limited to just yourself. Maybe Sōsuke Aizen is a mad genius, but he's also a visionary. He looks to the future, not the past. And he's certainly not a drunk. So how the hell did he know about that spell? Who taught it to him? For that matter, what do we even know about Aizen? Where did he come from? Who brought him to the notice of the Academy?"

He seemed to be catching on. That was always one thing you could depend on from Kisuke. He was a very fast learner.

"Three traitors," he murmured, scratching his chin. "I see where you're going with this. You were right, Yoruichi, you are faster than me. Perhaps I've let my indignation blind me to the truth of this matter. We've always assumed that we had just three bloodthirsty lunatics to deal with. But that doesn't necessarily explain how all this mess started. Perhaps it's older than we think. More personal. There could in fact be someone who has been around a lot longer than Aizen who is dissatisfied with Soul Society and its workings. Maybe somebody high up in the ranks of the Gotei 13, or even the aristocracy. A person long known for being honorable, likable, and harmless, whom no one would ever suspect of being disloyal to Yamamoto and his King."

Gray eyes and gold held onto each other for what seemed like an age.

"The perfect traitor," he whispered.

And in spite of being a ghost, Yoruichi shivered as she felt the cold of that night seep into her skin with those words.

* * *

Rukia opened the note as she got back to her room. If she started to pack for her trip right off the bat, she might just forget about it. She wasn't particularly scatterbrained, but she knew herself well enough to recognize that sometimes she tended to avoid bad news, even subconsciously. Almost afraid to see what the stars held in store for her, she flipped open the parchment and peered at what was written on it.

To her relief, it was not an official notice from division headquarters rescinding her of the post in the mortal world.

But much to her confusion, it wasn't from anyone else she recognized either.

_Rukia Kuchiki. _

_Please meet me at the fourth storage building behind the barracks of Division Ten at a quarter past dusk. This is urgent._

Nonplussed, the tiny detective stared at the unfamiliar handwriting. She turned the paper over. No signature of any kind, or a seal. It was just an anonymous handwritten note.

As she thought this, the letters suddenly smoldered with fire, and a moment later, the missive had turned to ash in her hands.

Rukia stood in her chambers, shaken and uncertain.

* * *

There was no breeze blowing. The day was pleasant and mellow, the type meant to be spent reclining in a grassy field, gazing dreamily up at the sky and wondering about all the careless things that came to mind only when you allowed no ill thoughts to trouble your peace. And if you were truly lucky, there was someone at your side, a person whom you trusted and desired enough to risk telling them about these immature fancies, whatever they might be. Not for anything to result from the admission, but just to share yourself to that extent. Because they deserved it.

The sky was burning red, clouds of purple and gray standing stock-still where they hung. Almost like a tranquil painting, made specifically to suit the tastes of the master of this estate. He always did like to take things at a sedate pace, Byakuya reflected.

Captain Byakuya Kuchiki, current head of that clan, stood on the neatly manicured lawn. Behind him, a servant was retreating back to the main building after having informed his master of the guest. Once the man was sufficiently out of earshot, Byakuya trod softly over to join his host. He had not needed to wait upon a signal or permission.

This was family.

Ginrei Kuchiki was seated in a rounded wicker deck chair, soft goosedown pillows seeming to envelop his spare frame. A blanket was draped over his legs, and his wrinkled, knobby hands were resting on top of that silky white surface. Briefly, his grandson thought how small this figure seemed by comparison to the grand general and upright lord from his memory that had stood at the helm of their family for so many years. In the next moment he chided himself for such unworthy idling, and went to one knee by his grandfather's side.

Taking one large-knuckled hand in his own slender grip, he whispered, "Jii-sama."

Ginrei's eyes opened slowly. Turning his hoary head, the wrinkles etched into his face deepened further as a soft smile caused warmth and color to return to his face.

"Byakuya."

A nod and smile. He remembered me right away. Good.

"I brought you some of your favorite."

Byakuya then removed the wrapping from his gift, revealing a case of white porcelain flasks with the symbol of their house painted upon them. These he placed carefully on the table to their right.

Weary gray eyes peered out at the last surviving member of his house as he went about his business, then turned once more to examining the flaring colors of the sunset.

"It is all ours now," he murmured. "Let us watch it together."

Byakuya slid down to sit seiza on a cushion placed by his grandparent's seat for this specific purpose. Together he and Ginrei observed how the fields and forests that stretched out from this hill all the way to the horizon began to take on a dark uniformity, separate colors and shapes no longer able to be distinguished clearly with the arrival of dusk. The great red orb going down behind the clouds seemed so much larger than it had appeared later in the day. As if it truly was a majestic vessel housing some ancient solar deity whose journey across the heavens was just ending.

Such imaginings caused the young warrior some measure of heartache from the memories, and to cover it, he spoke out loud. "The Sassato family was amenable to our request, as you hoped. I understand that you will be receiving His Lordship for tea in two days time."

In response, Ginrei's cloudy orbs broke away from observing his private display. He closed them, and gave an aggrieved shake of his head.

"I must be old. I do not remember being so petty in my youth." The worn and ancient face turned to regard his son's only remaining offspring. "Do you think it unworthy of me, Byakuya, demanding such a concession from a lesser house, simply because of an old man's fancy?"

"Of course not." He was regretting it already, apparently. Distressing, and so Byakuya rushed to assure him. "The only unworthy act would have been if they refused such a minor expression of appreciation, considering that it was thanks to your defense that they were not wiped out in the Manor Wars. Not just the Sassato benefited from observing your fealty, but numerous other clans. You denied yourself all manner of comforts in your life and reign. There is no need to hold your concerns in check now."

The twenty-seventh head of the noble Kuchiki family continued staring off to one side. Beneath the full sweep of his silver moustache, his mouth opened and closed. Reaching out, he patted his relative's hand in affection.

"I only wanted to watch the sunset, and know that there was nothing that stood between us. Not in word, ownership, or person. That we were equals, separated by only distance. I have taken such comfort from this moment throughout the years, I wished to have an unobstructed view to appreciate all it had to offer me."

"And such was your right."

Byakuya glanced down at the hand over his.

_He feels frail._

I know.

"The dagger was a reminder of what he owed me." Ginrei was speaking once more, and so he broke off his inner musings. "How once he knelt before me in utmost deference, begging me to place the cloak of my protection over his family. I did not make him wait, as other loftier nobles would have. Instead I took them under my wing instantly, and bound them to us through oaths and vows of marriage. They were not in any way at fault, you know."

"Yes." He had heard this story countless times before. But it was someone he cared for doing the telling, and that mattered more than anything else.

"It was not their fault," the old man repeated. "I saw this clearly. Political machinations, that was what fueled that conflict. And so I took myself to the houses of the great families, and spoke to their masters. But the roots of that debacle went further than even that, Hiroto."

Byakuya's mouth was opening to correct the mistake, but he checked himself in time.

Ginrei continued. "I went before the Central 46. Behind their words, I saw the intent that had brought such a situation about. Reach through the webs of deceit far enough, and you will always find yourself gripping the hand of a single man, my son. I worked slowly, patiently, to discern which of them it might be. Once the Shihoin had confirmed their trust to me, I enlisted their aid, and together we exposed the self-serving villainy that had concocted this vile scheme. I took no pleasure at seeing that house's destruction afterwards, you understand. It was justified, to repair the damage they had done to our world. And he understood this, in the end. There was no accusation in the look he gave me right before the sentence was read. Only respect, which I returned. After the executions, to thank me for all I had done to right this travesty, the remaining 46 conferred on your father the position that had been recently vacated."

Relief. Apparently he was no longer confusing the two of them. Hopefully that would hold out for the rest of this visit. There was never any sign of when the ancient mind would start to forget its own bearings, mixing past and present together. All the same, Byakuya remained silent. He knew there was more yet to come.

Ginrei came back about, and his face was now open and questioning.

"Hiroto always loved music so. They perform the pieces he wrote still today. Have you written anything lately, Byakuya?"

"I do not write music, jii-sama."

Liver-spotted hands clutched at the blanket, drawing it up closer to his chest. "I know that, my boy. You are not your father. But you brought me such a wonderful painting before. I wish I could find it now. Perhaps someone else in the family took it on one of their visits. They say that they are going to come, but they never do. I wait for my old colleagues, spending my days doing nothing of great import. Stealing… I do not tolerate theft."

It was obvious where this was leading to. Clearly his beloved elder was not having a good day. The painting he often referred to was one that Hisana had created and given to him on her first official visit as his wife. When she died, Byakuya ordered it removed from the home. He had explained this to his grandfather many times, but whether or not the old man remembered depended largely on the vagaries of his increasingly distracted recollection. And the idea of a thief having taken something from him always led Ginrei's mind back to his greatest torment.

"They stole your father away from me, Byakuya," the retired lord moaned tearfully. "The day before he died, he sent a note, asking to attend me in the morning. But my duties… called me away. I went to speak with Captain Kyōraku instead, he had need of my counsel. How could I have known I would never have the chance to speak with my boy again?"

With utmost care and tenderness, Byakuya reached out and laid his arm over the trembling shoulders. One of Ginrei's hands came up to clutch at his sleeve, and the ancient pressed his face into the black silk. In between gasps, the same litany of many retellings before came out. "They abused his honor, his trust. He was gentle, my boy, my handsome Hiroto. Those… old men! Subjecting him to their misdeeds, bereft of dignity and decency! He told me how heavily those judgments weighed upon him. There was never any _reason_ given, don't you see? Just casually officiating, condemning, _executing!_ It was not like during the days of my youth. How could I have known that they had sunk so far from honor? This was done out of hand. It was careless. _Heartless! _And they had the temerity to call it justice! They ruined him, broke him, they… _they killed him!"_

After a time, the elder Kuchiki seemed to collect himself, enough to focus in on the sad face of his kin. A smile touched those wizened lips.

"Byakuya," he murmured. "You are strong. Always. We both saw it, she and I. You must stay strong, in the face of fear."

Slender fingers once more gripped the shrunken arm. "I will. Always."

"Protect our honor," Ginrei continued, his eyes seeming to blaze with newfound determination. "Show them all how true nobility behaves. We are not above the law, Byakuya. Rather, we embody it! Our decisions, our blessings, our condemnations; they are not done arbitrarily! For no petty reasons do we lift our voices, or our swords. Noble in spirit, noble in name, noble in deed. Give them a reason to trust the power of our laws, my grandson. Do not sully what has been entrusted to you."

Silence.

Then, "You have my word, jii-sama. I will uphold our family's honor. There will never be any reason to doubt our integrity. I have already sworn it upon my parents' graves."

Ginrei stared at him. For a moment, he seemed about to speak. Then a pall of weariness stole across those weathered features. His eyes closed, and he sank into the comforting expanse of his seat.

Seeing this, his diligent successor rose, and turned away.

Before he could take a step, a palsied hand shot forward to encase his wrist. Surprised, Byakuya looked down.

His grandfather was gazing into his face, and there was a wild, desperate look to his wide-open brown eyes. Ginrei's chest rose and fell rapidly, the breath hardly seeming enough to keep his body from crumbling into itself, but somehow, he remained upright. The captain of Squad Six was mesmerized. Here again was the ageless fighter that had commanded a company of the Gotei 13's finest for centuries. Powerful reiatsu swirled all around them, as the old spirit reached up from some long-slumbering torpor that had bound it.

When Ginrei spoke next, though, it was with an effort.

"Your mother…" he rasped, droplets of sweat beading his forehead. "A trap… she is… Hollow… killed her… had to, because she saw… I wore a mask like them, and saw the… _face beneath the mask!"_

The hold on his wrist was now becoming painful, and for a moment Byakuya was shocked at the naked hatred and wrath swarming across his beloved grandsire's face. It was so real, totally unlike the vague expressions of guilt and resentment that usually took a hold of him. This was something rooted much deeper, and he found himself bending down, entranced in spite of himself.

"Jii-sama… what are you saying?"

Ginrei shook his head furiously, as if upset that his words were not being understood. His other hand came up and clutched at the white silk scarf that was the hereditary mark of their clan's leadership, lips pulled back in a snarl from his teeth.

"The false… king… KINGU! Him and his court of bloody officials, the god-king is… FALSE, do you hear? Rot and death. No honor! Unworthy of your worship! Cast them down… the usurper… The Hollows… awaken… a vast army … above them is the moon…"

Slowly, that horrific figure settled back into his padded throne. But his eerily lucid gaze never left Byakuya's.

"From the house of Kuchiki will come the new King," Ginrei growled. "To redeem justice for the lost and forsaken, and take up arms to lead our forces against the mightiest that ignoble tyrant has to offer. Headless horseman with a crown of steel. A hydra lurking beneath the waves. The lucifer flies, and beneath its wings leaves a shadow of fear. The hell-hound howls alone at the white moon. The heads of the dragon, on the rise… the tiamat!"

For one moment more, something frightening peered out of the remains of Ginrei Kuchiki.

"The flowers in the garden are blooming, Byakuya," his voice quavered. "Do you know their names?"

A second later it was gone, leaving only a worn and tired old man, mumbling drowsily as he settled into his cushions. Then the aged patriarch of the Kuchiki was asleep once more.

The confusion this last exchange had left in Byakuya still lingered, though. Surreptitiously he cast his senses about, making sure that no one was within earshot of them. Some of the things his grandfather had said could be construed as treason should they ever reach the royal court. But there was no one within their hearing. To assure himself that all was well, the master magician reached out and laid his palm against his grandfather's warm, dry brow. A simple chant of kidō then lent what comfort his arts could to Ginrei's continued recuperation. Having done all he was able to at this time, the lord of the Kuchiki then stole away to leave him to his rest.

Perhaps a dram of the finest liquor in my stock will serve to give him pleasant dreams. This was not how I imagined our time together going. I was not able to tell him the half of what I intended. About the condition of the Sixth, or even Rukia's latest mission in the living world.

_Byakuya._

He paused.

Yes?

_Rukia… I do not believe you should bring her here._

This declaration from Senbonzakura left his master completely taken aback.

Why not?

_Something about your grandfather troubles me. I feel oppressed. I cannot explain it even to my satisfaction, but I fear she would not be safe in this place._

For some reason, Byakuya found that the outrage he should feel at such an implication was not coming. Instead there was only that same lingering dread from before.

Do not fear. Rukia is safe. I have placed the cloak of my protection about her. Nothing ill may befall her as a result.

So assured, he left the neatly tended palace, and began the trip back to his home.

_To be continued…_


	12. Mortal Realm: What We Fight For

Sunset.

Birds flying through the sky were now just black shadows on the breast of heaven. The day patrols were relinquishing their duties to their nighttime brethren, trudging wearily home while chatting in a friendly manner. A score of black robes moved through the well-tended lanes of the death gods' paradise.

Among them was a solitary anxious soul.

She did not stop to converse with anyone, nor did any heads turn in recognition of her presence. This was the Tenth division's grounds, after all. Expecting anyone to recognize her face was perhaps asking too much. Long known for studiously observing proper behavior, even had anyone in this company espied her or made the connection between this tiny shinigami and the sister of one of their fellow squad's captains, there was hardly any chance that they would seek to impose upon her. That was their way.

I could use a bit of prying right now, Rukia thought. Or any sort of company.

Her destination was a warehouse located in the northern sector of this domain. Who or what she would find there remained a mystery, though. The paper that had so tersely demanded her presence was no longer even in existence, having been immolated by its own contents. Maybe I should have left a note of my own to explain where I was going, she pondered. But I already decided against it. What harm could possibly befall me?

_Don't be dense. You know very well what dangers are to be found in this place. _

There's no proof of that.

_You don't need proof to be afraid._

That was true. Fear obeyed no reason, after all.

But reason could triumph over it, all the same.

That was what kept her moving. It wasn't curiosity, even if that was what any regular person would be ascribing their motivation to. Long ago Rukia had recognized how fear could make a person run to wherever they felt they might be safe. And what brought you back to the source of your terror might not always be something you could be proud of, like courage. In her case, what she wanted was one less reason to feel ashamed of herself. Some might call this behavior reckless. But then, how would those same people refer to not attending this assignation? Knowing others as she did, they would probably say she was a coward. It was always easy to attribute the worst possible motivations to another person's actions, especially if you yourself were in no danger from it.

I'm not charging in blindly, Kuchiki thought as she made her way along those darkening paths. I have my sword, I'm prepared to defend myself if necessary. Even if it's nothing more than Renji having some fun with me- _that wasn't his handwriting_- I am prepared for whatever might be in store for me. And once it's over, I will prove that in the world of mortals as well.

I can be depended on.

The lanes of the Tenth squad barracks twisted and turned all around her, and Rukia suddenly realized that in her wandering state of mind, she was a bit lost.

Just then, a man and his fellows came pacing around a corner in her direction. As they approached, hesitation stole over her. Do I want to attract attention to myself? Maybe I can find my own way without asking, I can't be that far off from where I'm supposed to be, right? Perhaps if I give myself ten minutes or so, then I'll ask for directions.

_Afraid?_

"Excuse me," Rukia spoke up as they drew abreast of her. "Can I ask for some guidance? I'm a little turned around."

The one in the lead, a death god taller than most with narrow eyes and an outthrust chin, stopped and looked down at her. His compatriots followed suit. Why did so many people with soul power seem to grow to such ridiculous heights? Rukia wondered uncomfortably as she cocked a glance steeply skyward. All three returned her stare. The idea of how this situation must look to someone on the outside flashed through her mind. If I walked in and saw three men standing around a small woman on the street like this, I know what I'd be thinking, after all. One hand was still wrapped securely about the hilt of her sword as a result of her childhood experience with such situations.

Then the leader's brow cleared, and he smiled.

"Of course, young lady. What are you trying to find?"

Slight relaxation of the shoulders. Breathing a little easier too, she said, "I'm looking for the storage buildings behind the barracks for this division. Am I in the right area for that?"

A glance back behind to his fellows rendered a nod from both. Turning back to her, he held out his arm and indicated down an alley on their right.

"Take this way, then go past the next two intersections. There's a meditation garden on your right afterwards, and if you take the first left after that, you'll go through a plaza that leads to the storage sheds. They're numbered, so that should help."

Rukia was committing all this to memory as he spoke. When he finished, she bowed slightly. "Thank you, sirs. If you'll excuse me, I'm running somewhat late."

"Glad to be of help."

The other two exchanged polite inclinations of their heads with her, and then Rukia was off down the corridor specified. It was good to be able to rely upon the men of the Tenth. They certainly knew how gentlepeople were supposed to behave.

Her guide watched her retreating form until she disappeared around a corner. As he did, one of the other men stepped up beside him.

"So was that her?" he asked.

There was a slow nod of confirmation. "Oh, yes. Noble through and through. Can't you tell?"

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go have ourselves a party."

With that, the trio set off in leisurely pursuit.

This was the way of the men of Division Ten.

* * *

"Excuse me, is this where the new recruits for Division Ten are meeting?"

Disturbed from their animated conversation, the rowdy graduates turned to find a ridiculously small girl smiling up at them.

"Who wants to know?" one of them spoke, a level of arrogance in his face and voice that only a newbie god of death could manage.

She remembered seeing that look on a lot of young men's faces. It didn't improve with time.

"I'm Momo."

The rude fellow addressing her curled his lip and seemed about to make a snide comment, when a lady standing beside him paled visibly and reached forward to grip his sleeve. Surprised, he turned to regard her questioningly, and she indicated with her eyes.

When the rest followed her line of sight, they drew a collective gasp of astonishment upon seeing the carved wooden badge signifying a lieutenant on the intruder's arm.

Before any of them could even think of trying to speak to her further, for apologies or otherwise, Hinamori tilted her head to one side and spoke lyrically, "Never mind, I got my answer. Sorry to bother you." She turned to go, and then, feeling a tad mischievous, looked back over her shoulder right at the lout who had spoken and said, "See you later."

Momo left them gaping as she vanished from sight. Reappearing further down the corridor, she went past a gaggle of vocal black robes. These ones were so new even their clothes looked untested. Not a single tear or run to be seen. And speaking of things you couldn't see…

The lieutenant of Squad Five stopped and put her hands on her hips. Gazing around her, she bit her lip in slight perplexity.

Now where _was_ he?

At this time, Momo noticed how her presence here was sparking a noticeable amount of whispering and finger-pointing. If she wasn't careful, they might mistake her for their division's second seat, and that would only lead to trouble. There wasn't much time to work with here, so any unnecessary conversations would have to be kept to a minimum. If she didn't get back to camp in the next half hour, Aizen-sama would no doubt scold her. Not that there was any real sense of recrimination when he chastised her for tardiness (and a good thing, too, because Momo sometimes found herself sleeping in the oddest places), but even the appearance of impropriety was something she wished to avoid regarding her captain.

If I can't see him, or sense him, then where would be the most reasonable place for him to be?

Certainly not here, in the midst of this big crowd of people. Her old friend had never been entirely comfortable in groups. Probably because they tended to disperse whenever he got close to them. So where does that leave us?

"Oh!" Momo jumped as realization hit. Then she dashed from the audience chamber, inadvertently causing several people to scatter unnecessarily out of her way. Pretty slow reaction times, actually, she thought to herself.

_Where are you GOING? Take me back, I'm going to MURDER that little creep, just try and stop me!_

Hush. We don't have time for that.

_Correction. YOU don't. Just leave me in a room with him, I'll teach him not to mess with us. I'll have him begging for mercy by the time you get back, wait and see! I'm gonna bend him over backwards, shove his head up his butt, and he can think about how he could have treated us better while he's sniffing his own…!_

No.

…_Fine…but we're coming BACK FOR YOU, DEAD MAN, you HEAR ME?_

I'm pretty sure he doesn't, Tobiume.

During this silent conversation, she had reached her destination. The rooftops. The early morning sun was just starting to dispel the gloom off their world. From up here, she was out of the press of people in the dormitory below. Momo proceeded to scan from here to the horizon. They had always sat on the roof and watched the sunset, back when it was all quiet and placid. But now, they were finally on equal footing, here in Seireitei. Everything in her life was coming together, the people she cared for the most in the same place. I just need to find them, that's all.

He's not up here, she decided, gaze raking across the tiled buildings and towering edifices. What am I missing? Reason it out, now. We've known each other our whole entire lives. If he just got here, and he was all alone, what would be the place that would most speak to him?

Then she saw it. Rising up over the buildings in this sector was a cherry blossom tree, greater than any other in the area. A spot of lovely, living nature in the midst of all this cold order. It's perfect.

Hinamori tore off with superhuman speed in that direction. In under five seconds she had reached it, and vaulted from the building's top up into the branches. Now some twenty feet off the ground, the one-woman search party went bounding from limb to limb, trying to locate that one specific and unmistakable person. All around her there were pink sakura blossoms, rustling faintly with the wind of her passage.

But there was no one else to be found.

_This is such a hassle. Why not just use a hell butterfly?_

Because I don't know if he's official yet, that's why, she sighed. It wouldn't be able to find him. With that, Momo began the slow and careful process of extricating herself from the tree and making it back to solid earth.

_Then back to square one. Go around the division and ask if anybody's seen a nasty dirty white-haired shrimp with bad table manners and a tendency to scratch himself in public._

Her feet touched the cobblestoned yard out of which this solitary forest giant sprouted, roots twisting the square pieces into asymmetrical formations.

What makes you think he hasn't changed?

_Because, sweetheart, he's…_

"Momo-chan?"

And she froze, eyes going wide.

_Oh, shit, it's him._

To herself, the immobilized maiden was just willing her uncooperative body to move. At last it obeyed, and pivoting on one foot, she turned to one side.

"Captain Ichimaru."

He was leaning with his back against the tree, arms crossed over his commander's robe and one leg propped up against the bark. Had he been there the whole time and she just hadn't noticed? He must have been suppressing his reiatsu, it was the only explanation. But why? He couldn't have been waiting for me… right?

"Well, ain't this a pleasant surprise! Here I'm coming this way, and I stop to get out of the sun and take a break, when who should come poppin' up but my replacement in the Fifth! Small world, huh, Momo-chan?"

He was smiling.

_Momo. Get out of here. _

Stop it. Show some respect. He's not all bad, remember?

_He's hungry for blood. Can't you smell it?_

The captain uncrossed his arms, took a step towards her, and it was all Momo could do not to respond by taking one back. Silver hair, hidden eyes, a body deceptively slim and almost boyish. That was what any uninformed person would get out of looking at this man. But Tobiume was right. If you really concentrated, there was something hot and unpleasant in the air around him. Like a sickness that was leaking out in waves. She had been his subordinate once, back when Gin was still a lieutenant. A respected figure in the Gotei 13. The first time they met, he even saved her life, not to mention her friends.

I should be grateful. I know that.

But instead, I just get sick every time I look at him.

Aizen-taichou, whatever possessed you to put this man at your back?

The grinning ghoul drew to a halt just a step in front of her. Reaching out, he placed a hand on her shoulder, perhaps intending it to be a comforting gesture. But there was no solace to be found in the act. Instead, Hinamori felt like she had been caught in a bear-trap. And a fox was prowling around her, scenting her pain.

"So what's brought lil' Lieutenant Momo out to the Tenth parade grounds? Got your eye on a captaincy now that the old lady's been promoted?"

That was a tactless thing to say. Merciful heavens, why couldn't he stop smiling just for a little while? I could deal with it if he just made the effort to look like a normal human being. Like this it's… I've seen Hollow masks with more warmth and human feeling.

"No, sir," she responded. "I was trying to locate someone."

"Oh, I get it." Gin clucked his tongue. "The old man sent you out here to scout for new members, didn't he? Always thinking ahead, that's my ex-boss. How is Sōsuke-taichou, anyway? You makin' sure he stays warm during the winter nights? He gets chills sometimes, ya know. Needs extra blankets."

There was an undercurrent of suggestion to his words that Momo decided she really didn't like. As if her captain would ever be losing his edge! To emphasize this without giving real offense, she bowed forward, and in the process proceeded to wriggle gently out of his grip.

"Captain Aizen is as strong and fit as ever. If the two of you were to spar sometime in the future, I am certain he would prove to you that he remains a superior opponent on any level."

Her own attempt at being disingenuous provoked no greater reaction out of her predecessor than a widening of his trademark smirk. Instead Hinamori pressed ahead with official discourse. "If it's not too presumptuous of me to ask, what is Ichimaru-taichou doing in this particular region?"

He shrugged. "Just killing time, I reckon."

Liar.

"Waitin' for somebody to come along. Say…"

Of a sudden Gin's face was hovering less than an inch away from Momo's. She couldn't help it, a small sound came from her throat, and she hoped desperately that he hadn't noticed.

"You and me, we never talk any more. Why's that, do you think?"

And this time…

_Stop, Momo, DON'T DO IT!_

She couldn't catch herself in time.

"Did we ever talk?"

A rude response, totally unlike her. But for some reason it just came out.

It was really quite fascinating what happened then. Being this close, she could get a good look at what was going on underneath his skin. Gin's head moved slightly to one side, his lashes flickered ever so briefly. Those thin lips looked stretched all of a sudden. Tense. Like there was something working its way up from the depths of his soul.

Any second now, she thought distractedly. Any second, and the mask will fall away. It's slipping, I can see it. Just one more second, and I'll finally see his real face, the one he keeps hidden. I'll know what he's actually thinking. And then…

I'll die.

Momo realized that she wasn't hearing anything now. No sound. Was it the blood surging through her ears causing her to go temporarily deaf? Speaking of temporary fits of some sort, what could have possibly prompted me to goad him like this when he was so clearly upset?

Wait. Upset? What gave me that idea?

Thinking about it, Hinamori couldn't come to any actual conclusion.

It was while she was doing this that his fingers came up and touched her throat.

No sound.

There wasn't a specific noise at that point. That wasn't what broke the tension. Actually, it was a cold draft coming from behind. At this, both Ichimaru and Hinamori looked over in that direction.

There was someone standing there looking at them. A death god. Very small. And quiet. And… familiar.

"Tōshirō-kun!"

Turquoise green eyes glanced between lieutenant and captain. Sunlight flashed off of that extraordinary riot of pure white hair. The look on the boy's face was positively chilly. A sword taller than he was remained strapped to his back. All the same, there was a sense of immediate threat coming off him right then.

As if in response to this peril, Ichimaru drew his hand away from Momo's body.

She barely noticed this, as she rushed overjoyed to where her childhood companion stood.

"I've been looking all over for you!" the chipper cherub cried as she drew close to him. For a moment Hinamori almost reached out and rubbed his hair affectionately the way she always did when they were younger. But a specific part of her mind stopped her, perhaps the same sense that had prompted Momo not to refer to him by the childhood nickname of 'Shiro-kun'. She had promised him, after all. Once they were both shinigami, only then would he earn the right to be referred to by his real name. And my goodness, had he ever. This was not the same solitary boy that had stood on the fringes of every gathering, warding off any who approached him with hostile body language and frigid glares. No, this aloof figure was…

"I told you where I'd be," Hitsugaya Tōshirō announced. "What, did you get lost or something?"

_A TOTAL LITTLE SHIT!_

For a moment Momo was seized by the urge to snap his neck like a twig. Or an icicle! Just _CRACK!_ Right down the middle, and throw the broken pieces away!

No. Don't do that. Hands down, on the shoulders, not the throat. Give him a good long look at that lieutenant badge on my arm. You see it now, snowflake? Excellent!

"I didn't recognize your reiatsu!" she beamed through clenched teeth, eyes scrunched tight to keep him from seeing the death sentence still sparkling within them. "It's totally different now, you've changed so much!"

Still standing there, her scrawny neighbor continued to wear that ill-mannered frown. "Yeah. One of us did. You're as short as I remember."

_CRAP MOTHER ASS-CLOWN HORSETAIL ANTEDILUVIAN CODPIECE GERRYMANDERING BACKWARDS SUNNUVA __**BITCH!**_

"It's so good to hear your voice again, Tōshirō-kun!"

"Tōshirō?"

All of a sudden there were _two_ creepy smiling weirdoes with closed eyes sticking their faces right in his own, and the new cadet jerked his head back, grimacing and glancing between those eerily similar death-masks that were being trained on him, one with black hair, the other silver.

"Momo-chan, aren'tcha gonna introduce me to our little friend here?"

Momo snapped out of it then. She took a step forward, turning to stand by Hitsugaya's side. Laying a hand on his arm, she spoke in as natural a voice as she could muster. "Oh yes, Captain, please excuse us. This person is a friend of mine from before the academy. Tōshirō Hitsugaya, now one of our allies in Division Ten!"

A small pinch on his skin then. One of their old signals. Danger.

"And Tōshirō-kun, you have the very great privilege of meeting one of the squad commanders. Gin Ichimaru, captain of the Third division."

Hitsugaya just stood there. Not a word or move of greeting for the captain. They were simply staring at one another. Taking a deep breath, she smiled pleasantly and placed one hand on his back.

"And bow!"

With that she shoved him downward as hard as she could. Taken unawares, the icy youth found himself forced to perform a respectful obeisance. When he came up, he cast an uninhibited scowl right at her, but Momo just ignored him. While this was happening, though, something clicked in Hitsugaya's head, and he turned back to confront the creep with the white haori.

"Oh, yeah. I remember now. For the last year, it seemed like every time I did anything at the academy, somebody would always pop up and go, 'Wow, that's even better than Ichimaru's record!' It got really annoying after a while."

The guy didn't even blink. All he did was smile.

"Oh, really?"

Beside him, Hinamori's soul sense was flickering and jumping nervously. Ichimaru's was sharpening, however, as if in preparation for a blow. Not to be caught unawares, Hitsugaya did the same. A chill came off him then, like a reiatsu wind blowing from the depths of a continent made of ice.

Just when it seemed like swords were about to be drawn between a captain and a junior cadet, Gin spoke.

"Actually, it's funny us running into each other like this. I've been sent to collect ya, Tōshirō-kun. Seems Commander-General Shigekuni and a couple other captains would like ta have a word with you. We're off to climb the mountain's peak, you and I." Turning, Gin then swept his arm out in a leading gesture. "If you'll kindly walk this way?"

And Momo Hinamori cringed.

She looked over at Hitsugaya, who returned the expression. No words were spoken between them. Instead, she only tried to communicate with her eyes.

Don't.

Don't go with him.

This isn't right.

"Fine."

A brusque, irritated concession. At the same time, she felt her heart sink. Tōshirō was looking at her with a bland scowl. Apparently her message had not been taken to heart. All Hinamori could do was smile bravely.

"Go with the captain, Tōshirō-kun. We can get caught up some other time. This must be very important, because I didn't hear anything about it, even though I'm a lieutenant. Maybe I'll ask my own captain, Aizen-sama, if he knows what this is regarding." That was for Gin's benefit. Just to let him know that someone in authority would be informed in case anything were to happen to Hitsugaya while he was in the maniac's company.

The dragon-eyed child shrugged and began to walk off. "I'll come and see you when this is over. Later…" and he glanced back at her, "…Hinamori-chan."

Was that a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth? The sight caused her to feel quite warm inside, and she found herself skipping forward a few steps and calling out playfully, "That's 'Hinamori-fukutaichou', now! Don't forget who's got the higher rank between us! I expect you to observe all appropriate formalities since we'll be working together from this day forth!"

All she got in return was a wave, and even though his back was now turned, the girl found herself waving right back, a gleeful smile on her lips. Oh, she was going to rub his nose in this, just you wait and see! There wouldn't be any opportunity lost to emphasize just who was in charge around here. Little Shiro had better get used to taking orders from me from now on!

There came a slight sigh, and of a sudden it dawned on her that the deathly phantom was still standing right behind her.

"Always good to see old friends, eh, Momo-chan?" Gin came walking by as he said this. "Why don'tcha stop by the Third's headquarters later today? Kira would be glad to see you, and so would I. We could all have a nice cup of tea, and chat about the good old days. It'd be fun!"

With the distance between them increasing, the only thing the Second seat of Squad Five could manage to say was, "Yes, sir."

After another minute, she was standing there all alone, beneath the branches of the sakura tree.

* * *

Rukia stood alone in front of a plain, unimposing edifice. Very high, with several different levels. The number on it clearly read 'Warehouse # 4', but she had felt it necessary to start off from the division headquarters once she found it and walk down the way, counting each building as she went. There was no denying it. Her guide had been completely correct. This was her intended destination.

So?

What's the big deal?

The sun had completely dropped below the horizon several minutes ago, leaving this building in twilight's shadow. It seemed ominous somehow. A great brooding ogre, waiting for any unsuspecting little girl to come traipsing up to it and be devoured. But that's silly, the orphan chided herself. A mere flight of fancy.

There was no one waiting here for her. This area was strangely deserted. Not a single slip of reiatsu to alert her careful senses. Clearly her mystery messenger intended for their target to enter this structure. Alone.

_Why not just leave?_

Why indeed?

_I'm serious. The only thing that really drew you here is curiosity. Haven't you come far enough? You don't always need to know the reason behind something. I'm worried, is all._

I don't blame you. I'm scared too.

_I specifically said I was 'worried', not 'scared'._

Do we really need to discuss this?

…_No. You're right. I'm just trying to stall for time, is all._

Me, too, I guess.

_So. What do you want to do?_

Seriously?

Rukia glanced around. It was just a touch cool this evening. The sort of feeling that, if dwelt upon, would encourage any reasonable person to go home, crawl into their warm waiting bed for a good night's rest, and wake up in the morning with the potential of a bright new day ahead of them. Especially if that day promised a trip to a new location, where she could exercise her duties and abilities to the fullest. She had been given something to look forward to in her life, without any reservation. I'm strong enough, Rukia told herself. I can protect those people who have no idea what terrors lurk on the edge of their world. I shouldn't let anything come between that and me.

I should…

Get it over with.

That strange dream world… my time in it won't last. It'll be over before I know it. One month and then I'm right back where I started. The same troubles. Same monsters. It's just a diversion, really. Trying to get away from what scares me.

What do I want to do?

In all seriousness, I want to kick Gin Ichimaru's teeth in. I want to grab Byakuya Kuchiki by the scarf and shake him until he finally spills what it is he wants from me.

But I am not allowed to do any of that.

This is something I will permit myself to do.

"I'm going in," Kuchiki decided.

_You've got me, girl. I'll back you up forever._

I know. Thank you.

So resolved, the figure in black approached the huge wooden doors. Reaching up, she pressed her hands against them, grimacing as she pushed with all her strength.

Surprisingly, they came open quite easily. Rukia almost stumbled forward from the lack of resistance, but checked herself in time.

The interior of the warehouse was dark. There were no windows, not even hypostyle vents in the walls to allow light to filter in. Totally black. She could make out boxes labeled with their contents stacked up from the dim illumination at her back, but other than that…

Hold on. What was that?

Farther away, back towards what she assumed was the building's center, there was a tiny pinpoint that suggested a candle's flame. Couldn't make it out clearly from here. Kuchiki hesitated on the cusp of entering. It wasn't too late. She could turn and run right now. She knew that.

But is that what you're going to do in the human world when you come across a scary Hollow? Turn tail and run? Or instead are you going to do what they've been training you to do. Yumichika and Momo, Kaien and Ukitake, even the Kuchiki. Cut the beast down to size, send it to whatever level of the Rukongai will have it, or Hell should that prove necessary.

Feeling somewhat better now, Rukia stepped into the building, whether it prove to be a trap or no.

Making her way down the cleared lane, she had just summoned a small ball of kidō to guide her the rest of the way, when from behind there came the unmistakable sound of the doors swinging shut with a crash. Instantly she spun, Sode no Shirayuki emerging from its sheathe. Face lit by the glow of her own power, Rukia was just about to speak its release, when from the shadows, a voice spoke.

"Glad you could make it, Kuchiki Rukia."

Turning, she saw several shadows detach themselves from the stacks of crates and advance upon her.

Just as they came into the light, Rukia immediately attacked.

* * *

The surprise attack had hit them both like a bolt from the blue.

Beside her, Hideaki Roshōmon was staring open-mouthed at his captain. The amazement on the lieutenant's (former, actually) face was something not often seen in the normally reserved and proper individual. Its twin was just settling into the features of Rangiku Matsumoto seated beside him.

Strangely, it was Hideaki who was able to regain his voice first.

"Captain," he managed, sounding like he was swallowing his own disbelief and finding it would not go down. "Did I just hear you right?"

Yeah, what he said, Rangiku thought, mind still awhirl from the pronouncement.

A head of white hair swiveled to study the speaker. "If you heard, 'You are being demoted', then your ears are fine."

Clearly the Tenth's Second seat (or was it Third now? I have no idea how something like this works) was having difficulty with the concept. For her part, the buxom battle maiden was simply too stunned at the casual declaration to be her normal carefree self.

"I would like to know…" The sinews were standing out in the man's neck now. He wasn't pretty before, and that certainly did not help. "…how I have transgressed against my station to warrant such a dismissal?"

Hitsugaya Tōshirō remained as he was, legs curled beneath him and arms crossed over his tiny chest. The white captain's robe extended out well past his feet. That thing looks huge on him, Rangiku thought, but he walked in here all right, so I guess it's the right size. Wonder if they had to make a new one just for him? Suddenly the image sprang into her mind of Kenpachi Zaraki glancing over his shoulder and wondering why there was the outline of a very small robe cut out of the back of his own. She almost giggled out loud at that, but managed to quell it thanks to the weird calm that had descended on her about fifteen seconds earlier. Because of this, she heard her new captain's response quite clearly.

"It's not your transgression," their boy leader said, remarkable green ice eyes staring out of a child's face. "It's my predecessor's. She gave you a position that should have passed to someone else. I'm simply amending that mistake."

Roshōmon was so upset he appeared ready to cry. That made her pity him, rude elitist bastard that he was. Finally he managed to speak firmly, and without any waterworks. "Captain Hitsugaya, I humbly request that you reconsider this decision. I have served in this company for over seventy years. My combat record is exemplary, without dispute, and I distinguished myself above all others in the lieutenant's trials to qualify for this seat! My work since then has in no way…!"

There then came a slight rustle from one side, and a polite cough. Matsumoto glanced over towards the slim, prim woman seated somewhat to the side and behind the youngest captain in history. She watched as slender, well-crafted fingers rose and pushed a pair of glasses up the bridge of a nose whose face would have been considered enchanting were it not so sternly aloof.

"Roshōmon-san…"

No more 'fukutaichou'. It's not a joke, it's real, he's been replaced, _she_ would never participate in such a thing if it wasn't serious, I know that much.

"This is neither the time nor the place to submit appeals to this matter. The captain's privilege to promote and demote officers is entirely at his own discretion. While cases that do not involve a seat being made vacant as a result of death are rare, the procedure is one that has been attested to and codified in our laws. If you care to do some research on the subject, I can point you to the relevant histories." Dark purple eyes narrowed then ever so slightly. "And according to my own captain's official report, what you refer to as 'distinguishing yourself' was only a matter of losing consciousness five seconds after anyone else, in a fifteen-second trial that was ranked the second-shortest in history."

The ex-lieutenant cast a furious look at his former equal, who bore the brunt of that ire without any visible disturbance. Captain Hitsugaya did not appear pleased by this behavior (or anything else, for that matter), and rose to his feet.

"I don't like you, Roshōmon," he growled, glaring at the man from a vantage of only about an inch even when standing upright. "You're reliable, but presumptive. Mannerly, but officious. You've got power, and you can command respect, but you treat anyone you consider as beneath you like they should be honored just to hear you speak. And for the record, however much shorter or younger I may have been in comparison to you, I was the captain and _you _were the lieutenant, not the other way around. I made that clear to you on the first day, but you kept treating me like a kid who happened to be sitting in the first seat's chair until they came back. I'm not going to babysit you through this relationship until you're comfortable with it. That's not how things are supposed to work."

The Insert-Number-Here seat of Squad Ten seemed to shrink ever so slightly, as if running through his own behavior for the past two weeks. Maybe he'll reach some kind of enlightenment, sitting here in this room.

And he did. It was called 'Blame Anybody But ME'.

"You want to know about respect, _Captain?"_

The representative from the Eighth stirred at his tone, as if about to speak, but Hitsugaya made a gesture with his fingers, and she subsided, so Hideaki continued. "Your predecessor understood that word very well. And when she observed the moody, drunken, voluble antics of a despicable self-obsessed showboat, she did not think it fit to reward such behavior with further promotions until such time as that _individual_…" And his eyes darted over to affix on Rangiku, "…learned proper _respect! _I agreed with this assessment…!"

I'll bet you did, she thought. From face-deep in the old harridan's ass.

"…and I in no way felt as if I were _stealing_ anything that another person had earned! I risked my life for the good of Soul Society, and I was given nothing that was not my due for it!"

In response, the death god prodigy frowned.

"Get up," he said softly.

For a moment, Hideaki Roshōmon just blinked at him. A measure of fear crept over his body, visible to everyone in the room. Then, as if realizing this, he once more donned the mask of cool arrogance that had marked him in his tenure at this division, and clambered up to stand at his full height.

Now staring up into his senior's face, Hitsugaya whispered, "Draw your sword."

Both Rangiku and the other woman tensed. Not nearly as much as Hideaki, though. He seemed to have swallowed an oar, so stiff and straight stood he.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" The captain's posture was still relaxed, betraying no hint of anxiety. "Get that zanpakutō out of its sheathe _now!_"

He almost leaped to obey, it was so fast. In a flash, there was a bared sword in Roshomōn's fist. Kind of funny, actually. But this time there was no chance at all of Rangiku laughing.

Instead, she prepared herself to leap forward and stop him.

_Which one? That beautiful ice statue, or the sweaty lout I can smell from down in your soul?_

Either.

_He's talking again. Let's listen._

"Take your best shot, Demon-Slayer Roshōmon."

When all other people present seemed about to object at the same time, Tōshirō kept right on going. "I'm giving you a chance to take control of this division. I won't draw on you, or cast a single spell. There are two lieutenants here to witness and attest to what they see, that should be good enough for anyone." Behind him, the raven-haired deputy opened her mouth to point out the flaw in procedure this would involve, but froze as a cold, invasive presence made itself known in that room. Rangiku saw the woman's breath come out in a puff of mist, immediately followed by her own, but the source of that awesome energy was not done yet.

"You want power so bad, you want your due? You'll have to kill me to get it. Then you won't have to answer to anyone, or brook any contradictory views. If that seems fair to you, then go right ahead and swing." A dangerous light caused those fatal emeralds to glow from within. "Otherwise, you get out of my sight, and never speak that way about a member of this division again. You're the Third seat now, and will be for as long as I deem fit. Are we clear, Officer Roshōmon?"

_Oh my goodness, he just defended your virtue. I think I love this boy._

What kept you? I liked him from that first day.

There was no real anxiety. Not even a chance of anything going wrong to mar the perfect happiness that had descended on her heart. She might not know this kid as well as she might hope, but Roshōmon's character was something Matsumoto was very familiar with. So when he sheathed his sword, dropped his arm badge on the floor and walked out of the room without even a snippy comment to salvage his wounded pride, it came as no surprise to her. Or anyone else, really.

The First seat of her division turned back to the sharp-eyed brunette whose face wore a look of firm polite circumspection. "Thank you for agreeing to stand in as witness and representative of the law today, Ise-fukutaichou."

She bowed her head. "It was a rare case, as I said. My captain felt it would be to everyone's best interest if the precedent was confirmed as legal and official, so as to avoid the appearance of impropriety. I am honored to have been of service to you, Captain Hitsugaya."

_Did you hear the way she said his name? She wants him. What a tramp. Better get your claws in before anybody else. After all, we saw him first!_

Haineko, stop being a bitch. It's embarrassing.

Lieutenant Ise then held out the newly-crafted wooden arm badge with a daffodil seal, which her superior took. The young leader (still wearing that hairdo, what did he use to cut it, his fingernails?) trotted over on his small legs to where Rangiku sat, having not spoken one word since he laid down the rearrangement in rank.

"Rangiku Matsumoto…"

_I want to hear him scream that name before the night is done, understand me? I'm talking about silk sheets, nails gouging into wood, howling at the moon, using every position imaginable and maybe some no one has ever seen before to achieve a climax of epic…!_

You are ruining this moment for me, you horny cat!

"I hereby bestow upon you the rank of Vice-Captain in the Tenth division of the Gotei 13, along with all duties and privileges that are inherent to the title. May you bear the name of lieutenant with pride."

Hitsugaya then held out the badge. Rangiku gazed at it.

She wanted this. Had wanted it for a very long time, if only to let all those dirty scheming little scrubs realize that she had come this far and survived this long not by chance, but because she was that freaking _good!_ In spite of all their condescension and unwarranted hostility, she had persevered and stayed when it would have been so easy to duck out, run to the only person she knew for a fact respected and valued her and take the job he had offered so often before. How many nights had she drowned her tears in strong drink, sometimes alone, other times with more cheerful company? Now all that had finally come to an end. It was time to let the whole world know just what she could accomplish.

So then. Let's get this new relationship started off right, shall we?

With that, the blue-eyed charmer looked up at her new boss and raised an eyebrow.

"Is that all?"

When he actually gaped at her, she felt a little thrill of illicit pleasure. Forgive me, you handsome snow-cone, but you've got to understand just who it is you are dealing with.

"No flowers, no gifts? Not even some chocolates to seal the deal? I haven't accepted yet, you know. I mean, the invitation is well-warranted, but come on! Be a lieutenant? Do you have any idea how much _work_ that involves? I've got a life outside these offices, and that sort of position would seriously cut into my scheduled carousing and merrymaking. I'm a girl who likes her pleasures, understand?" She turned her head and closed her eyes resolutely, then cracked one open for a sidelong look at the results of this performance.

The other woman looked positively aghast at her presumption. And as for Hitsugaya…

Well, let's just leave that for later.

Heaving a deep sigh, the honey-haired death god came back about, and flashed her most dazzling smile at the pair of stiffs. "Well… okay! Since you want me that badly, I won't deny you the chance to be close to such a ravishing young beauty. Can't have you pining over me and chasing me all around the grounds, now can we? That would be bad for morale, after all. And it's a lieutenant's duty to see that her captain is treated with all due respect and consideration! You can count on me for that, Captain Hitsugaya!" With that, she plucked her new accessory from his fingers and proceeded to tie it around her waistband before settling back and smiling at them.

How did Tōshirō take this?

He was so furious he looked ready to snatch the insignia back. Or stuff it down her throat. Or go ban-kai and level the building on the spot along with the surrounding area, causing devastation and spewing flames from his raging heart.

Exactly the type of reaction I was hoping for.

With that, she hopped to her feet, saluted them smartly, and proceeded to saunter lazily from the room, making sure to toss her hair and sigh despondently, as if to say, 'Well, there goes my youth. Goodbye, halcyon days'.

In the wake of her passing, Nanao Ise recovered first. Hiding the distress this scene had evoked, not to mention the prospect of dealing with this loony female as an equal from now on, the dedicated bureaucrat then slid forward, retrieved the form that banished Hideaki to a Third seat's salary forever and laid out the official notice of recognition for Rangiku Matsumoto's promotion. In the blank space reserved for a lieutenant to witness the transition of power, she signed her own name with a small, precise hand. All that remained was…

"Hitsugaya-taichou?"

No response.

"Captain? If I could just get your signature on this document…?"

The hands fisted at his side slowly unclenched. Turning about and crossing to sit beside her, the shinigami savant picked up a brush and proceeded to affix his mark to the page. Did he hesitate right there at the beginning, ever so briefly, Nanao wondered? No way to tell. But whatever misgivings this young soul might have about his new vice-captain, clearly they were not enough to prevent him from giving that girl her due.

It had been a long time coming, Lieutenant Ise reflected as she bent to retrieve the scroll.

_Ohmigod, Ohmigod, he smells so nice! Nanao, you kiss him right this minute! I'll die if you don't!_

Spurred by the drop in temperature in the captain's chambers, made conspicuous by her own rising body heat, Nanao made her farewells and beat a swift retreat back home.

* * *

The lights came on, and they all screamed at once.

"SURPRISE!"

Rukia felt somewhat silly then, standing there with the tip of her blade held at the throat of Sentarō Kotsubaki in the middle of what was clearly a party.

The echoes of that great shout died as everyone found themselves studying this bizarre scene. None of the attendees could apparently come up with a response. For her part, Rukia stood frozen with the understanding that she was threatening a superior officer. "Geh!" the Third seat of her division gasped and blanched, lifting his head up slightly, wide eyes never leaving the weapon being leveled at his jugular.

The paper lanterns glowed, streamers fluttered aimlessly, and she could have sworn she heard someone whisper, "Do it!"

Then from off to the side, there was a small 'beep', quite audible in that deathly silence.

"Beautiful shot!"

The befuddled maiden glanced over to see Yumichika Ayasegawa inspecting his cell phone. Catching her look, he proceeded to beam like the sun, and inverted the device to display the picture of her on it.

"Don't you think so, Rukia-chan?"

"Ah…" she began, and then realizing that she was still in that same position, hastily leapt back, withdrawing her zanpakutō from the bearded chin. Sentarō clapped a hand to his throat, perhaps to check and see if he was bleeding. When he withdrew it and saw nothing of the sort, the man visibly sagged in relief.

"Sentarō, what are you doing scaring Rukia-san like that?" Kiyone Kotetsu yapped indignantly from beside him. "You sounded like you were about to ravish her, no wonder she put a sword to your throat!"

"I wasn't trying to scare her!" Sentarō sputtered. "And what do you mean, 'ravish her'? Don't go ascribing anything vulgar to my actions, you scruffy little mouse!"

"WHA'D YOU SAY?"

The diminutive death god sprang at her co-chair's throat, only to be caught halfway to her target by a firm hand. Holding the raging imp by her robe collar, white-haired Ukitake Jūshirō sighed and cast a long-suffering look in Rukia's direction.

"Kuchiki-san," he spoke with amused resignation, "Welcome to your going-away celebration."

Rukia gaped.

Then from behind her, someone blew on a party favor. Turning about, she recognized several members of her own division, along with a smattering of folks from the Tenth and Fourth. There were even more drawn up in a circle around her. Quite a few of them were dressed in everyday attire, making it somewhat difficult to place names to faces, so used was she to seeing them only in black just as she was now. They were chatting, pointing and laughing good-naturedly. Turning back and forth, more and more people stood out to her in this gaily festive crowd. Seemingly as one, a huge upwelling of spirit energy caused the floor to shake slightly, as several partygoers left off suppressing their reiatsu in order to keep her from sensing their presence. For a moment, she almost lost her footing, before swiftly acclimating to the festive and powerful new atmosphere.

"I don't… understand," the young woman stuttered, meaning every articulate word of it.

"It's a party to congratulate you, Rukia. What's there to understand?"

A cup was thrust before her nose. Looking up, Rukia found Renji Abarai smirking down his own nose at her, clearly enjoying the show. That caused all trace of confusion, dejection, and humiliation to melt away, to be replaced with good old familiar outrage.

"If it's _my_ celebration, who invited you?"

"We did," Captain Ukitake stepped forward, now flanked by his reconciled if somewhat red-faced underlings. "The idea for the party came from these two, to commemorate your first official post in the living realm. I thought it was a splendid idea, considering how long you've been tasked with less-than desirable assignments."

Kiyone piped up then. "It was also my way of sending you off right this time, Rukia-san. Especially after… well, you know… that last one."

"You mean that time you mixed up your assignment with hers and almost got her killed?" Kotsubaki grumbled while glancing off in the opposite direction.

Kotetsu's teeth clenched, but before she could utter a retort, a calming hand was placed on both their shoulders, and the feuding pair found themselves separated by their happily smiling hero.

"After that was settled, we made some arrangements to try and give you a surprise," the gentle nobleman continued. "Kiyone got her sister Isane to write you a letter, and Lieutenant Kotetsu in turn convinced her counterpart in the Tenth to pull some strings and lease out the warehouse for our benefit. Sentarō handled the invitations to those two squads, by way of saying thanks for their efforts. The ladies responsible are right over there, you can thank them for their help if you like."

He gestured, and Rukia turned to see two tall beauties, one silver, the other gold, from their position in a small group of clearly interested males. She recognized them as the lieutenants of the Fourth and Tenth respectively. The more vocal one, Rangiku Matsumoto, noticed her attention on them and waved cheerfully, prompting everyone to follow suit. When she saluted them in return, they all went back to their own conversations.

"I got wind of it through some shared connections," Renji spoke up. "I went to see the ones arranging things, and they said the more the merrier. So I told Yumichika, and he brought along Ikkaku Madarame and some other guys from the Eleventh. Don't worry," he quickly supplied as he noticed the glint in her eye, "They've promised to be on their best behavior. And we've got some insurance of that. Lieutenant Kusajishi herself is in attendance. She popped up and said she wanted to come. Captain Zaraki won't be making an appearance, in case you're worried, he's off on a mission with Captain Kyōraku. Kira's coming by later, apparently Ichimaru gave him the night off. I asked, but Momo was busy with her captain, so I'm afraid they won't be able to make it. For a while there, I was thinking we could get the second seats of every division in one room. But you'll have to settle for about half."

He was still proffering the drink out to her, and this time she took it without reservation, happy to see him smiling so unreservedly. It had been a while since her old companion had looked this care-free.

Her gaze went from his face, to Jūshirō's paternal features, to those of the quarrelsome couple. They were all regarding her with equivalent levels of affection. Looking down at the cup in her hands, Rukia thought about what she was feeling.

I never knew they all cared this much.

_Some of them even more than this. _

I feel about to cry. Why am I so surprised?

_Because you can be a pretty bleak judge of character sometimes. Is it really so shocking to think that they might want you to have a little fun in your life?_

I wasn't even thinking about it, really. I guess I just took things for granted. I had already thought all the way through to the end of my mission, like it was over and done with.

_Just thinking about yourself. Haven't we gotten past that yet?_

I'm sorry.

_Oh come on, I was kidding! Look, there's a celebration going on around your ears. Can't you shed the Kuchiki shroud just for one night and try to revel in the good things?_

Well… I guess we'll find out, won't we?

_Atta girl!_

Before anything else, though…

With that, Rukia Kuchiki bowed down before her captain, his vassals, and her childhood comrade.

"Thank you all, so very much."

A chorus of smiles was her response.

"You are most welcome, Kuchiki-chan."

"Glad to be of service, Rukia-san."

"I'm more glad! It was my idea from the start!"

"Yeah, you're welcome. You gonna drink that or not?"

Without further ado, she took a sip. The rice wine trickled down her throat, warming her insides with its alcoholic potency. Behind her, she could hear Yumichika calling out to come and meet his associates. This she proceeded to do.

* * *

"Watch out for her, Lieutenant!" the man from the Eleventh called happily. "She'll surprise you if you let her!"

Izuru Kira scowled over at where that ambiguous anarchist was lounging in the grass, then turned his attention back to his opponent. Rukia Kuchiki was edging closer to him, her bared sword held at shoulder-level, ready to thrust or parry. For a moment there, he had actually been required to exert himself while facing her. This was something new in their relationship. Memories flashed through his mind from their time back at the academy, scenes of himself and his fellow advanced classmates Renji and Momo. He had struggled against them, to be sure, but on those extremely rare occasions when sparring with this little girl from the regular class, not once had he ever felt to be at a disadvantage.

It didn't irk him to find that this was no longer the case. Who was he to begrudge Rukia the opportunity to grow stronger, if she was able and willing? They were both academy graduates from around the same time (Izuru cared little for her not having officially passed the exams, that clearly made no difference). They had talked together, studied together, laughed together. She was one of their little group. Mostly because of Renji, but still…

Sudden movement brought him back to the present. Rukia had taken two quick steps forward and lunged, aiming for his midsection. Swiftly the seated officer interposed his own saber, deflecting the attack. There was a slight sense of being off balance then, and Kira cursed himself. He had forgotten what it was like to fight someone this much shorter than himself. His movements were conditioned towards combat with much larger and taller individuals, usually men. Right away he could see that he had overextended himself with that move.

But while he was unaccustomed to this disparity in height and strength, obviously the same could not be said for Rukia. Without any visible effort she had redirected the arc of her sword, bringing it back from that last unsuccessful attempt and already sending it flashing out in another. Mercy, but she was quick! This time Izuru found himself giving ground unconsciously, feeling the rush of air brushing against his stomach as her stroke went past.

Ah-ha, his instincts were better than he knew! She clearly hadn't been expecting him to retreat, and there was a second of thwarted indecision there. Obviously he wasn't the only one to have built up a preconceived notion of how to fight certain opponents. His muscles were primed, though, and his fighting impulses honed to a split-second's decision. There was no need to spend time analyzing his best options. He simply knew. Many years of combat experience had seen this proven for a fact. He had the advantage in reach, and so now he used it. Crouching down, the blonde swordsman swung his zanpakutō in a flash of mirror-bright steel. It was a lower attack than she had expected. How many people would bring themselves down to her level? Only those able to see its advantages, he thought. She blocked it, but this unfamiliar exertion of different muscles was telling in her frame. Rukia was used to swords coming at her from above, not from below. As a result of this, her footing faltered somewhat.

Kira didn't smile, but his heart was beating faster, exhilaration at out-thinking his opponent giving him that sharp clarity that sometimes came about in any test of skill. Now his own racing footwork closed the gap in between them. Rising to his full height, he inverted his grip, and the sword at his side came up in a backhand so fast it hummed, and…

Cut air.

With that realization came another, that someone was pressing themselves against him. It was so surprising that for a moment Izuru had no idea what this might mean. He thought she might be hugging him.

Only then did he feel the leg coming around to hook behind his own, and what had seemed like a slight push now became a hard shove as she drove her shoulder into his stomach, setting her other foot back firmly and taking advantage of his forward momentum to turn herself into a barrier. This time instinct couldn't save him. His raised foot automatically came up even higher, sending him even more off balance. When he tried to hop gracelessly backwards on one leg, the effort only served to emphasize his lack of control. Just when he had been about to swing his other leg back, her palm came up and smacked him sharply on the chin, and before he knew it Kira was flat on his back, the breath leaving his lungs in a whoosh.

For the first time in his life, the astonished noble found himself looking up at a triumphant Rukia Kuchiki as she placed her sword at the tip of his throat. Where on earth had she learned to fight like that?

"Winner: Kuchiki-chan!" Yumichika Ayasegawa crowed, reclining on his back and enjoying the view.

No.

And now Kira did smile.

"I didn't hear myself surrender yet. Did you, Kuchiki-sama?"

Her lips tilted upwards slightly. "No, Vice-cap…."

"BAKUDŌ 69: SILVER TONGUE STRIKING ASP!"

"BAKUDŌ 39: ARC SHIELD!"

Gray light shot from his tongue, and her empty hand came up to her face, a white disc the size of a dinner platter forming to catch the demon magic and leave it hanging harmlessly a short distance from her throat. She was much faster than before, he thought, but immobilization had never been his intent. Only distraction. It was then that the grim-faced lieutenant demonstrated his own resolve. Her sword hadn't wavered from his throat, and reaching up, he seized it in one hand, wincing only slightly as the sharp steel cut deep into his flesh. Then his own weapon came up.

"Raise Your Head, Wabisuke!"

The metal wavered like air over hot coals, then sprang back into solid existence, a sharp hook now crowning its tip. This he swiftly brought looping around her head before the slender maiden could even attempt to move. She clearly felt that razor edge whispering at the back of her neck, judging by the way her eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly, as if on the verge of reciting another spell. Gazing up into his old schoolmate's face, her conqueror grinned without reservation now.

"Don't underestimate the determination in us men of the Third, Rukia-sama!"

She did not speak. Was she truly beaten, the pallid shinigami thought as he rose carefully to his feet? Or simply looking for another opportunity?

Across the way, Ayasegawa had come up as well.

"So, you're the first one to resort to bringing out your shikai, eh, Kira-fukutaichou?"

The way he said it irked Izuru slightly. Like it was an admission of weakness, or desperation. Of a sudden he was reminded of why fighters from this division often got on his nerves. When Momo Hinamori had asked him to fill in for her today in her scheduled sessions with Rukia, he had been loathe to accept. Not on account of pride at being asked to tutor a low-ranked shinigami. He did that every day, it was part of his duties as a lieutenant. It was because she told him that the Fifth seat from Squad Eleven would also be there. He had never actually spoken with this individual before, and while Yumichika Ayasegawa clearly differed from his compatriots on certain levels, his unbridled love of battle was not one of them. They looked down on anyone who did not take delight in bloodshed and warfare. It was on this note that Kira had come to learn long ago that there could be no agreement between him and them.

He did not like to kill.

Because when he did, Izuru Kira knew that there could be no forgiveness for himself.

And on some level, he hated his opponents for putting him in that position.

Why did they oppose him? Why did they seemingly rush onto his blade, to suffer and die, only then seeming to grasp the enormity of what their pride and hunger had cost them? He hated the way their eyes seemed to beg for something from him at the last.

I am a warrior of the Gotei 13. We do not teach our students to be merciful here. Begging is just the first stage of defeat.

_So what stage is crying and screaming, 'I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die'?_

I told you to stop reminding me of that.

_Stop looking at yourself like you're dirty and I will. I hate it when your loathing starts to eat at you and you just let it._

I can be ashamed if I want to. I have done horrible things.

_WE. We have done those things together. Don't you dare try to leave me out of this. I am not a blade hanging over your head. You tried turning me against yourself that night you almost died, and I showed you it wouldn't work. I come from your soul, Izuru. I have forgiven you for what you consider your failings. Why don't you take a cue from me sometimes?_

Because there are worse things yet to come.

_So now you know the future? You're so talented, my lord._

Don't mock me!

_Stop being so sensitive. There's a difference between 'shinigami' and 'Kami'. You always have to hide things, covering up crimes. Especially those of that maniac you serve under. Whenever someone speaks ill of you, that's the first place your mind goes to. But they don't know what we've done. Maybe if you tried telling someone about it, that might help._

No one knows how I feel.

_Are you sure? What about Rukia?_

What? What do you mean?

_Look at her._

He did.

Kira looked at her face. The way it denied all emotion. Or did it? The slackness in her features, like everything had been drained out of her. It wasn't the battle-focus that others preferred, or even that calm ease only experienced fighters wore. Her eyes were staring raptly, with his sword still hovering an inch away from her skin. What was she looking at? Glancing down, he caught sight of his hand still around her katana, and the blood flowing out along it.

Why would that…

_THINK._

Blood on her sword…

Oh…

Oh NO!

The answer was so obvious. Kaien Shiba. The former lieutenant of her division. Rukia had been forced to kill him when he was possessed by a Hollow. There had been an inquiry that determined she was in no way at fault for his death, but some people said that was only due to the influence of her family. He hadn't seen much of her since then, but if she was anything like him, then there could be only one way to look at that event.

She was waiting for someone to punish her for it.

The same way I am waiting for my sins to rush up and bury me.

Looking at her then, he realized that she was expecting the crook of his blade to pull forward and behead her.

With a frightened gasp, he withdrew the gallows blade carefully from about her neck.

Rukia continued to stare at his hand around her sword.

He heard her whisper then.

"Dance, Sode no Shirayuki."

* * *

Blood.

Dripping down the sword blade. Around his skin.

He was smiling at her.

"_Harder."_

No.

"_Harder!"_

Stop it!

"_HARDER, GIRL! DO YOU WANT TO DIE?"_

I don't!

"_You push it right in there, Rukia-chan! Right where I showed you before. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. It'll feel so good, there'll be blood and you'll cry at first, but it won't be long 'fore you start to like it!"_

I'm cold.

"_I like you, Rukia-ojousama."_

I'm so cold. Where are you? Where are you…

"Dance…"

…my sword?

"Sode no Shirayuki."

"_You say that now. But when the time comes, you will remember everything. And in that moment, I am sure you will reach the right decision."_

It's so cold.

"_We've seen what you can do, you and I. So don't tell me you aren't strong enough."_

I won't do this. It's wrong. Freeze him. Freeze us both if you have to.

Freeze us to death.

* * *

In an instant, the blade in his hands burned with cold. Looking down, Kira was surprised to find that it had gone completely white. Rukia's shikai, he thought with some surprise. Funny, I don't recall her ever…

_LOOK OUT._

But it was too late.

It felt like every drop of heat fled from his body in a second. All of it was being sucked away into the sword. He tried to let go, but his fingers had gone stiff with frostbite. The frigid power was now flowing through the cut on his palm directly into his soul body. It was seeking his heart, robbing him of his warmth, his life.

_What are you doing? Fight back. She's killing you._

I can't…

_Let go of the sword, Kira._

They won't move. Won't…

_Let…_

…move.

_**GO!**_

It felt like his digits almost broke off when they came away from the snowy katana. Kira had just a second to bring them up before his face, trying to ascertain if there was any permanent damage, when danger registered. Moving what felt painfully slow, he dragged Wabisuke up just in time to parry the fall of the white soul cutter. Immediately his zanpakutō's special ability responded, doubling the weight of the other fighter's weapon. It began to scrape down along his shikai's edge, dragging itself earthwards, but then, as if in answer to the attack, without warning a sheen of frost spread out from Rukia's sword, effectively freezing the blades against one another with sheer cold. Suddenly his own power was being turned against him, as both soul cutters started sinking lower and lower.

And once more, the deadly numbness was seeping through his veins.

_She's like ice. Kira, do something, make her stop._

He looked into Rukia's eyes. They were cold. Dead. Her arms trembled, and she shook ever so slightly, but none of that seemed to be registering. Mist came off her skin unnoticed. She had gone far away from herself. And in this state, she was about to kill him.

Freezing cold, like he had never experienced in the land of the dead, swept up through his lungs. Each breath was an icicle in his throat, leaving him unable to speak, whether for pleading or kidō spell. His skin was turning blue, frost creeping over his eyelids so he could not shut them. Before him, the face of his executioner was as blank as a Hollow's mask.

It would seem my sins have caught up to me faster than I expected.

Mother. Father. I'm so ashamed.

* * *

"Kuchiki-chan!"

Yumichika shouted her name. No response. A blast of icy wind blew out from them both, locked in that grisly duel that in no way spoke to the sheer love of battle that resided in his heart. This wasn't a fight.

It was a murder-suicide he was watching.

The slender pugilist didn't bother to question why this had happened. Thinking too much tended to freeze you up. Instead he lunged forward. Both Rukia and the gloomy-guss lieutenant were freezing to death right in front of him. Her power was killing them. Reaching out, Ayasegawa grabbed the girl's shoulder, intending to try and yank them apart.

As he did, his arm went numb, and patterns of frost traced over his skin and into his muscles. With a hiss, he snatched his hand back. The contact apparently got her attention enough to give Kira a chance to pull his frozen fingers away from her sword. But then the two blades clashed, and there was no harmony to be found in it.

Both figures were turning to ice statues before his eyes. Standing a few paces away from this chilling sight, Ayasegawa nursed his fingers and thought.

_Oh, no. Not a chance. I won't have any part of that idea._

She'll die if I don't. They both will.

_Can't we just drain their energy? I'm willing to bet they wouldn't notice anything._

If we did that, _we're_ the ones who'd be turned into icicles.

_I'll admit, I'm offended by what's taking place here. But what you're thinking is just so… repulsive! Give me a few minutes to prepare myself, will you?_

You've got until I draw you from your sheathe.

_You crass slob._

With that, the Fifth seat ripped his blade from its scabbard and shouted, "Bloom…!"

_Don't say it!_

"…Fuji Kujaku!"

_I hate you so much it isn't even beautiful!_

The wicked scythe sprouted from a point just above the handle, a long sharp fingernail reaching up to the sky. Drawing between the pair of dying figures, Yumichika raised it on high.

Sorry about this, Rukia-chan.

His furious soul spiked, reaching its maximum at this level, and without a sound, the death god brought his weapon smashing down on Sode no Shirayuki.

He heard something crack. But the white blade held.

"OPEN!" Ayasegawa roared.

His sword split into four identical scimitars, two above and two below Rukia's shikai.

"CLOSE!"

_I am so sorry, my dear._

The shafts slid back together. And caught between their fierce grip, Sode no Shirayuki snapped in half.

A shriek sounded then, and he realized that it was coming from Rukia. He turned to see her falling backwards, the cold death loosing from her and Izuru at the same time. They were both toppling over. Now that the danger had passed, only one question remained: how to make this scene beautiful?

Well, that one's easy.

With that, he swept forward and caught the little princess in his arms before she could touch the earth. Cradling her against his chest, Yumichika remained in that pose for a few seconds, savoring what he knew must be an absolutely heroic and dazzling sight. A shame no one was there to witness it.

The splendid moment was marred by the sound of Izuru's body impacting against the dirt with an unpleasant thud.

Some people just had no sense for artistry.

* * *

When Rukia came to, it was to find herself moving while standing still.

Weird, she thought.

After a while, a few things began to come clear. For starters, she was having difficulty opening her eyes. Eyelids must be heavy, she thought. But there seemed to be something warm pressed up against the front of her body. Her legs were wrapped around it, and she felt what she could swear was a pair of hands underneath her thighs. Coupled with this was the sensation of moving up and down.

If I keep going like this, I might not like what I find.

Okay. Give it some consideration. You're upright, apparently. And I guess… we're going somewhere?

It finally dawned on her that she was being carried on somebody's back.

There was a buzzing going on nearby. Focusing on it, she managed to make out a conversation taking place between two people. Now, if I can just hear what they're saying…

"…still don't see why _you _don't carry her. I'm not exactly feeling my best right now!"

"I've got my hands full. And besides, this way you two get to share body heat, which is something you're both desperately in need of. Got anybody waiting at home to provide you with a more intimate version?"

"WHA-? How is that any business of yours, I wonder?"

"Just making conversation."

"Make it with somebody else. I'm still your superior officer, I could just order you to carry her."

"Ah, so you will attest to Byakuya Kuchiki that you ordered me to drape his unconscious sister over my warm manly body, wrap her legs around me and proceed to…"

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

"I thought not. Try to keep up with me, it'll be good for your circulation."

There was silence for a time.

Then, "Yumichika-san… thank you. For what you did."

No response came back.

"I know it must have been difficult for you."

"You have no idea how much. Her sword is an absolute joy to behold. Breaking it is something I will not forgive myself for anytime soon."

What?

Struggling against leaden lids, Rukia finally managed to open her eyes a crack.

Bright light. Moving objects. It was certain now. She was being carried piggyback. And by the sound of the voices, it must be Kira who was doing all the work. Then that means the black blur off to my left must be Yumichika. As if to confirm this discovery, her eyesight sharpened. It really was her dear drillmaster, trotting along beside them, reverently holding out before him…

The pieces of her sword.

You broke her, she thought accusingly.

Kuchiki felt like she might cry. What happened? Reaching out, she sought to make contact with her guardian spirit, dreading that she might know the result.

Sode no Shirayuki?

She found herself back in the moonlit snowfield.

Slumped on the ground before her was the spirit of her zanpakutō.

Before she could even cry out, Shirayuki raised her long trailing sleeve, the fingers hidden within it.

_Hello._

Rukia knelt and took her hand. "Are you… all right?"

_Now isn't that a stupid question. We almost killed each other, and then I was broken in half. Why weren't you listening to me, you silly girl? I was screaming at you to stop!_

"I don't know," the wielder of the blade almost sobbed. "I don't know what just happened, I only remember voices, someone was right there speaking to me, and I was so afraid of what they were telling me that I… had to stop them. No matter what."

Head bowed, face hidden in the depths of her hood, the samite-wrapped dancer flinched. _I didn't hear anything. It was like you were speaking to a part of yourself I couldn't reach for some reason. I could hear you, but you plainly couldn't hear me._

"Can you…?" The sword's mistress swallowed back her fear. "Can you still move? Are you broken for good?"

Sode no Shirayuki glanced down at her legs. _It's… unpleasant, let's put it that way. But I do know that this is not permanent. In time, I will be restored through your spirit, and then I'll be good as new. I'm not of much use to you right now. Hardly worthy of being called a sword anymore. You might want to see about finding a replacement for a while._

"DON'T EVER SAY THAT!"

Her shout caused the white reflection of her soul to glance up in surprise.

"You are _my_ sword, my partner! You never let me give up, and I'll be damned if I don't extend you the same courtesy. Broken or not, I will find a way for us to still fight together!"

She could hear Shirayuki's hidden lips curve up in a smile. _You going to fling my hilt at your enemies? Or maybe put the blade in between your teeth and charge at them?_

"I don't charge at my enemies," Rukia informed her coolly. "I dance, remember?"

With that, she reached beneath the spirit's arms and lifted her up on her feet. There was no sense of weight at all, she might as well have been holding a single snowflake. The two of them stood there, face to hidden face.

_Heh. Fine. We're clever, we'll try to work something out. But honestly, even if a solution does present itself, I hope that we'll never have a reason to use it, now or ever._

"Just you watch, Sode no Shirayuki. I will dance with you, and before you know it."

The sense of this place was fading away from her. She was going back to reality.

_I'll try to think of a good name for it._

"Something wrong, Ayasegawa-san?"

"No… I suppose not. I could have sworn I felt her sword warm there for a second."

"Maybe that means she's all right?"

"I certainly hope so."

"Agreed."

Rukia stirred slightly, and she felt Izuru take a firmer grip on her. She was just starting to close her eyes again. With her cheek pressed against his back, the exhausted enchantress glanced up for a brief moment, a thought occurring to her. This felt familiar somehow. Like she was used to being carried like this, though she had no particular recollection of it. But the sensation was very strong. Watching the blue and white picture high above her while being slung against someone's back, and curiously reaching up to try and touch their hair but never quite being able to reach that far. Not blonde like Kira's. She couldn't recall exactly why that mattered. Could this be a memory of someone from her distant childhood?

Before she could find her answer, Kuchiki Rukia was asleep once more.

_To be continued..._


	13. Mortal Realm: Meet Your Match

She returned the waves of three guys from the Tenth who walked by, then looked back at him. "Yumichika-san? I met him for the first time during the disturbance at Hollow Bog a few years back."

"Okay. That makes sense."

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Rukia seemed to be about to ask him something, but then reconsidered. Renji just chugged his drink. The low flickering light of the candles was serving to make him feel loose and mellow. Or maybe that was just the amount of alcohol he had ingested. Whatever. It's all good.

They were sitting on a stack of crates, surrounded by animated discussions, impromptu tests of strength, ribald singing, and a fair amount of intimate behavior. Exactly the sorts of things one might expect to find in any party. But the person for whom this was all being held was not exactly getting into the spirit of things. Because of this, he was concerned.

"So," Abarai began, striving for something to follow that archetypal conversation starter. "Here we are." Another classic hit.

"Some of us more than others," she responded flippantly. Was that a reference to him having consumed ten times more saké than her tonight? Joke's on you, Rukia, I'm still sober! Before he could put that fact into words, she was talking once more. "Is this the sort of behavior expected from the Eighth seat of the Sixth division?"

AH! There's a good way to strike up a dialogue.

"Didn' anybody tell you?" Renji drew himself up smugly. "I got promoted lil' over a month ago. Beat the Seventh seat in a duel, and the Sixth got eaten by a Hollow. Or something like that. Anyway, you're talkin' to the new sixth most powerful fighter in Division Six! Umm, wait, we're still shopping for a new lieutenant. Make that the FIFTH most powerful fighter!"

She turned a surprised look on him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Uh-oh. Suddenly things were getting a little too revealing for his taste. After a few moments of ruminating and staring into his drink, he finally came up with, "I'm not where I want to be yet." Then he added with a smirk, "But I'll let you know when I am!"

Now Rukia just stared at him. Did she seem sad? Hell, if you want to say something, just say it, girl! You want to go sing at the bar? Be my guest! Wanna paint the whole Kuchiki manor pink? Hand me a brush!

You want to get out of this place forever? I'll lead the way.

But if not, there are a few things I have to do before I'm ready to really approach you again.

"Hey, speaking of good news, Rukia, what's the big idea keeping this to yourself? 'S your first time going into the world of the living, am I right? How come I had to get this information second-hand from Can't-Keep-A-Secret Kotetsu?"

That brought a smile to her face. "It's my second time, actually. And I was going to tell you earlier, but I just kept putting it off."

His response was a frown. "Why? You didn' want to talk to me or something?"

Rukia went very still.

"You've been… distant lately, Renji. I hardly ever see you, and when I do, you're always running off somewhere."

"Hey, seated officers are busy guys!" he snapped, automatically looking for something to divert her suspicions. "Not that you would know anything about that."

Oh, sweet Seireitei.

Did I just say what I think I said?

The expression on her face told him he had.

Rukia stood up then. "I'm going to go talk to the captain. Don't go anywhere, okay, Renji? I'll be back in a bit."

The tattooed death god turned his face away, to hide the shame burning in his cheeks. "I'll be right here. Take your time."

She moved off. Watching her go, he cursed himself for a fool.

_You are just that, brother. All this work, trying to better yourself, and here we find…_

…_you're only qualified to be the Captain of the Fools._

With a groan, he let his head hang forward. What miserable sin had he committed in his life on Earth to cause him to have such a disturbingly big mouth?

_The mouth wouldn't be a problem…_

…_if the brain was big enough to go along with it._

Shaddup. Both of you. Let me get drunk in peace.

_So that you can embarrass yourself even further? No…_

… _thank you. We might owe ourselves to the repercussions from a night of drunken debauchery, but if you…_

…_think you can drink us away, you are sadly…_

…_mistaken, brother._

Have I ever told you what a pain it is when you finish each other's sentences?

_Do we sense a lack of appreciation? You don't seriously believe…_

… _that you could have made it to Sixth seat in the Sixth without us? Not to mention…_

…_all that training to achieve ban-kai. It was only after that fight against the…_

… _arrancar woman so long ago that you began to see some progress. Everything since then…_

… _is owing to what your soul endured in that fight._

I know, so you keep telling me. Man, sometimes I wish there was someone I could trust to really talk to about that. Am I part Hollow now or what? I don't know! What I'd like to do is…

Suddenly, Renji stopped.

Blinking, he pushed the extravagant and costly shades on his forehead up a notch further, as if to ensure that they were not interfering with his vision.

Had he just seen right? It seemed like too much of a coincidence at this time. Maybe his imagination was playing tricks on him, because he could have sworn he just saw standing in the crowd…

There. Right there.

Isn't that her?

The inebriated redhead climbed to his feet, swaying slightly before pushing himself forward. He scooted by several people, squeezing his way through the press. The lighting was low in this warehouse. And he was drunk. In addition, her back was turned. But something told him he was right. He had just caught a glimpse of her face. The person he was thinking of had only been in his life for one day, yet in spite of all that, Renji was not about to let an opportunity like this slip by. He had talked to dozens of people in the Fourth concerning this, but none of them seemed to have a clue what he was going on about. To the point where he wondered if it hadn't just been a dream brought on by his injuries.

But as he got closer, this right here seemed like the real thing.

Her hair came undone down to the small of her back. She was completely turned away from him now, dressed in a simple yukata of dark dye with tiny glimmering lines etched all over it, apparently absorbed in watching a man and woman giggling and kissing drunkenly a few feet away. He couldn't be certain. Seemed just a tad taller than he had estimated from back then, but that brief memory of her half-seen profile wouldn't let him stop.

So intent on his quarry was he that Renji failed to notice how the noises and talking in the room had suddenly started to die down.

Before he could stop to ponder the merits of his actions, the eager adventurer grabbed the lady by the arm and spun her about.

"Hana-chan?" he blurted hopefully.

Emerald eyes stared up at him stonily. The haircut was wrong, he realized. For that matter, this girl's face was significantly younger, and rather unexpressive. There was a resemblance, to be sure, but none of the care and heartsease he had been hoping to see reflected in her dispassionate gaze.

This isn't her.

"Sorry." Broken-hearted, he let her sleeve drop. "Thought you were somebody else."

The young woman only stared back at him. Feeling distinctly unmanned by this escapade, Abarai mumbled again, "Sorry," and turned to beat a hasty retreat.

Before he could, a hand grabbed his shoulder, and spun him about with astonishing force. The next thing he knew, the dead-eyed girl had leapt atop him, wrapping her arms around his neck, legs somehow encircling his waist. Renji had just enough time to gasp in a surprised breath, before she darted her head forward and seized his lips with her own.

It was a most aggressive and oddly untutored act, totally at odds with what he had been hoping for. But in spite of all that, Renji found himself returning the kiss. And as he continued to taste her lips, drinking them in for all they were worth, she seemed to grow more cognizant of the pleasure involved, mimicking his own actions to such an extent that he seemed to be giving her a lesson on how it was done.

This went on for about a minute. And when he finally tore himself away from her, flushed and panting, it was to find that the two of them had somehow become the center of attention for the whole party, which had gone totally silent.

Renji was just starting to wonder why that would be, when a small whimper came from off to his right.

When he turned his head, the answer presented itself.

The noise had apparently come from a really tall girl with short silver hair dressed in a finely woven turquoise kimono. She was rather beautiful, and even more scared stiff.

The reason for that was standing not two feet away from him. Renji's brain picked out a white haori, and the most disturbing grin that could ever exist on a man's face.

With that, the captain gazed up at him and said, "And what exactly is the meaning of this?"

Still struggling under his nameless partner's weight, Renji Abarai found himself pinned by the gleaming disturbed gaze of Mayuri Kurotsuchi.

Before his wine-soaked brain could think of coming up with a response, Tall Girl spoke plaintively. "Nemu-san, what are you _doing?"_

With her cheek pressed against his, the one called Nemu then said in a droning voice, "Isane-neesan told me to let my hair down and participate in the party."

Fingers dug into the silvery scalp as her Neesan doubled over like she was in physical pain. "I didn't tell you to MOUNT anybody, Nemu-san!"

At this point, Renji's mouth started working once more.

Unfortunately, it seemed his brain had yet to catch up.

"What can I do for you, Captain Craz… I mean, Kurotsuchi?"

Bulging golden eyes stared up at him out of a harlequin's face. The nostrils flared somewhat, as if scenting everything in the room at once, from fear to drunken fear.

"I'm just here to pick up my daughter. That's the one hanging off your tattooed neck right now, in case you were wondering."

And now the brain was back to working capacity.

Merciful heavens.

I just made out with the daughter of Mayuri Kurotsuchi.

_Run…_

…_Away._

That's it, I'm dead, they'll find my dissected pieces scattered all over the Court of Pure Souls by tomorrow morning.

At some unspoken sign from her parent, Nemu detached herself from around his trembling body and moved to stand at the captain's side. Any hopes that this would be the end of the affair died when Mayuri suddenly took a quick step closer and thrust his metal-capped jaw up under Renji's chin.

"What's your name, lowly worm?" his scratchy voice lilted.

'_Izuru Kira, pleased to meet you, sir'. _

_Say it!_

Everything was now back to working order in Abarai's brain. Tragically, this was not followed by his head exploding in a quick death, although judging by the look on the mad scientist's face, that option was certainly within the realm of possibility. Being once more in control of himself, however, the assured science experiment resolved to pass on with at least a drop of dignity.

"Renji Abarai, from the Sixth squad, Kurotsuchi-taichou."

Mayuri continued to inspect him closely, like a man at the meat market eyeing a prospective steak for dinner. He reached up and gripped Renji's chin, turning his head from one side to another. I hope he doesn't ask me to cough next, the exhibit thought. Where in the Thirteen Divisions is Captain Ukitake? Didn't I see him not ten minutes ago?

At last the head of the Research and Development Bureau seemed to conclude his evaluation. His hand fell away, and they now regarded one another, Renji in a cold sweat, Mayuri with no evidence of a recognizable human emotion.

Of a sudden Kurotsuchi grinned, in a manner that was distinctly lacking in reassurance.

"I'll keep you in mind for mating purposes."

Several people were heard to cry out at that.

And it was then that Renji made the dumbest move of his life.

Opening his mouth, he said, "For you or her?"

Everyone in the immediate vicinity, excluding Nemu but definitely including Abarai, now went white as a ghost.

But the captain only snickered.

"Either way, I'll be watching!"

"Candy Man!"

A small pink blur flashed in from the left, and in the next instant Lieutenant Yachiru Kusajishi was swinging from the hilt of the sword protruding from between the captain's legs. The graphic implications of this act caused Renji and several others to consider heaving all over themselves, and he was forced to choke back his own upchuck. As for Mayuri, this predicament seemed to cause him only mild distress. He swatted irritably at the laughing child, and when this failed to dislodge her, turned to his offspring and snarled, "Remove this pest from me at once!"

"Yes, Mayuri-sama," Nemu responded, and then knelt to grasp the offending infant and lift her up, cradling the girl against her chest.

"Nemu-nemu!" Yachiru laughed delightedly, and flung her arms around the impassive shinigami's neck. After a moment, she turned back about and directed her eager gaze back upon her original target. "Candy Man, Candy Man, Yachiru wants candy! Did you bring any with you?"

He gazed at her unblinkingly.

Then, to the surprise of virtually all, Captain Kurotsuchi slipped a hand into his robe and reemerged with a strange colorful swirl of some kind on a stick. It was capped by what looked like a screaming human head, frozen in all the colors of the rainbow. Before anyone could think to voice an objection, Yachiru snatched it from his grip and proceeded to suck upon it delightedly, humming and kicking in Nemu's embrace.

With that, the psychopath turned on his heel and stalked off. His lieutenant bowed to Renji, and then followed in her captain's wake. Kusajishi squirmed about and waved at him as they departed, popping the abomination out of her mouth long enough to shout, "Hey, Hawaiian Punch! See you at the meetings!"

There was no time or energy to ask what the lieutenant might be referring to with that comment. The woman with silver hair gave him a stricken look before fleeing for her life. She looked familiar. Come to think of it, her voice was ringing a chord in him as well, but he simply couldn't place it. Too drunk, he supposed.

_Not drunk enough, after…_

… _that, you mean. Take our advice. Get… _

…_hammered!_

With that crisis averted, things started to pick up once again. Unfortunately, in his bleary and somewhat terrified frame of mind, Renji Abarai concluded that it would be wisest to abscond from the party before Captain Kurotsuchi changed his mind and came back with the scalpels and meat cleavers. As a result of this decision, he did not get a chance to speak with Rukia again that night.

The next morning, Momo Hinamori and Izuru Kira brought him the news that he had been made lieutenant of Division Six. By the time he learned of this, she had already taken up her new position in a region of Karakura Town on the island nation of Japan.

* * *

Neliel tu Odelschvank rolled over on the bed in her windowless room.

His hand came up and touched the freshly inked tattoo on her back. It still stung slightly.

"How's it feel to be in the top three now, Neliel?"

She turned to regard him, lying naked and relaxed under the sheets.

"Oddly, it feels different, Ichimaru-san."

He smiled at the revelation, eyes veiled by heavy black lashes. She wondered sometimes why those hairs were the only ones on his body not silver. Owing to their relationship, Neliel was the sole member of the _Espada_ qualified to make that judgment. But questioning Gin Ichimaru about anything personal, even something as innocuous as whether or not he dyed his hair, hardly ever yielded an explanation. He was a man composed of equal parts secrets and lies.

She was one of the former.

It had begun years ago, back when she had first presented herself to the man whom they whispered about in the barren glades of Hueco Mundo. The shinigami who walked among the Hollow, and spoke as one of them. Her first impression of Ichimaru was that he was supremely dangerous. Worthy of a warrior's respect. Gazing out at him from the safety of her horned mask, she had admitted to being made somewhat uneasy by his mannerisms and demeanor. But this was not enough to prevent her from approaching him. And that had apparently impressed him sufficiently to escort her into the presence of his secret master. One whose existence was something of a legend among her kind. _El Rey de la Luna. _

The King of the Moon.

Upon meeting Aizen Sōsuke in person and speaking to him, the _arrancar_ felt something shift in her worldview. Always before, there had been only struggle in her life, the sole goal of which was survival. From enduring as a single Hollow, to conquering the conglomeration of _Menos Grande _she was absorbed into, to refashioning herself from _Gillian _to _adjuchas. _There had seemed no other purpose worth fighting for. Because of this, Neliel had developed a selective attitude towards battles. It was not necessary to prove herself in every single little skirmish. Sometimes a simple demonstration of her clearly ample strength was all it took to drive any prowling beasts away from her. As a result she found enough time between hunting and defending herself to develop other interests. Namely curiosity, which was what had compelled her to seek out the shinigami in the first place.

But when that man gazed down on her from his solitary seat, she had felt herself being stripped by his gaze. And oddly, empowered. His soft voice caught her attention, asking for her name and what had brought her before him. She answered all truthfully, hiding nothing. And he returned the courtesy. Aizen offered her his name, his trust, and his ambitions. That was where everything had changed for her. Odelschvank felt as though blinders had been removed from her eyes. Suddenly possibilities sprouted at every angle, and she found herself being welcomed into something much larger and grander than what she had previously known. The world no longer seemed a barren place. Now it had potential. Just like herself. This soul, this noble figure, stepped down and offered her his hand. She was almost scared to touch it, half-afraid that those fingers would prove as immaterial as moonlight, revealing him to be something much more than shinigami or Hollow.

They were real, though. And so was he. Sōsuke Aizen. The Man Who Would Be God. On that day she pledged her fealty to him, and was accepted into the ranks of his chosen company, as the _Quinta Espada_.

Gin was present less often than Aizen. But whenever he was there, she always found herself encountering him. Running across each another in one of the corridors being constructed, or finding him waiting after she returned from a mission. The silver-haired phantom even showed up at her mask removal procedure, when both of them got a look at the face which lurked just below that ibex skull. He sat with her while she was recuperating. They talked.

She had not expected Gin Ichimaru to be gentle. When they first made love, Neliel had half-thought she would need to bring her saber Gamuza to bed just to stay alive. But his thin fingers brushed through her thick green hair with unnerving delicacy, and his mouth against her skin was superbly skillful at arousing passion. Any pain was kept to a minimum, and that too was somehow keenly applied to leave her sobbing out in ecstasy. Neliel pulled his lean, slender body into her embrace, wrapping herself around him and eagerly welcoming their union, each sharp thrust leaving her fiercely quivering body demanding the next one even more. They had spent hours together, locked in something she had forgotten even existed. She just didn't know what it was called.

He didn't love her. That much the _Espada_ was sure of, any more than she loved him. His real reasons for seeking her out would have to remain a mystery, though, since neither of them ever spoke about it. Not that she wasn't curious. Neliel simply felt she understood Gin's nature well enough to know that he would never reveal that much of himself to her. When their bodies were together, they took something from one another, and that passion was something she found herself looking forward to in the times that her lover was not around.

But this sandy-eyed beauty was a perceptive and intelligent person in her own right. And on her own, she had come to believe that she reminded Gin of someone. Who that was she didn't know, but clearly they were beyond the smiling sociopath's reach now. So to appease his desires, he had sought out Neliel, and brought her in to fill his need.

"Yer daydreamin' again, Neliel."

The _Tercera_ drew herself back. As Gin continued to lightly stroke the tattoo he himself had bestowed upon her, she traced her fingers down his arm, coming to rest against his firm chest. There was a heartbeat there, in spite of what others might think, and a small selfish part of her relished the idea that she alone could touch it. That much, she allowed herself.

"It occurs to me that we won't be able to move about so freely, Gin-san, now that Contracorriente is dead."

He smirked, resting his head on one hand. "S'at the extent of your concern for our dear departed Natella? I already told Aizen-taichou about it, he didn't seem to mind. So why should you?"

Would he respond with the same nonchalance were she to meet her death in battle? The thought made Neliel curious enough to risk asking a question. Not that one, to be sure, but one that had been on her mind lately.

"Ichimaru-san…" She began, testing the waters with an honorific. He always referred to her intimately when they were together, but she was not so certain of herself to risk it, on the grounds that she might slip up in public and their little secret might get around. "Do you believe in Aizen-sama's objective?"

"Which one? He's got so many." Gin yawned. "Weaken the Gotei 13, cause upheaval amongst the nobles, raise up the Hollows, find the _vasto lorde_." He touched her face then, running a finger across her war paint. "Speakin' of which, nice job on locating our first there, Neliel."

He hadn't answered. But then, she hadn't really expected him to. The warrior maiden took his hand and drew it to her chest, letting his fingers stroke and pinch the large breasts as was his wont.

And then he surprised her.

"You wanna know what I believe in, Neliel?"

Her eyes clapped to his. Something about his tone gave her the impression that this was not the facetious wordplay that he normally engaged in. Acting on this observation, she responded firmly, "Yes."

Gin slowly levered himself up. Sitting there, his bare skin gleaming in the faint glow of the blue lights, the master shinigami crossed his legs, propped his hands on his knees and spoke one word.

"Home."

She thought about this word as he said it, wondering what it meant to her, and to him. As if reading her mind (a power she was not ready to admit he lacked), Ichimaru continued. "It ain't just where you hang your hat." That part was lost on her, so she did not inquire. "More than anything, it's the place where you want to get back to when you find yourself away from it. Home's less of a location, and more about peace. Not even that, really. It's the people you find there. The ones you put your trust in."

Her thoughts went automatically to her _fracción_, Pesche and Dondochakka. Aizen as well. But they lived in two different worlds. So where did that make her home then? For that matter, where was Gin's?

He didn't have to say it. Neliel knew, without even asking, that Ichimaru did not consider this place his home. The people he cared for were elsewhere. And she would most likely never know them.

However, the most important thing that she had gained from becoming a member of Aizen's army was not power. It was hope. The hope for a better life than what others could offer her, or even just what she could accomplish on her own. No fighting or killing. She was beholden to him for that.

And in a way, she was grateful to Gin as well. Because he had been willing to share something gentle with her.

It won't last, she told herself. But I will take from it what I can.

And with that in mind, she crawled forward and kissed him softly.

He drew her back down upon the bed. Apparently, they were not finished yet.

* * *

RUKIA KUCHIKI- WORLD OF THE LIVING JOURNAL

ENTRY #26: _"I am still becoming accustomed to the differences between our world and this one. While there is little to interest a dedicated god of death, certain basic information must be kept in mind regarding locales and civilians. When I moved to cross a street this morning, apparently a spiritually sensitive individual spotted me and shouted to stop. The oncoming conveyance passed through me, of course, but still, it came as a surprise to be noticed. I must be careful to affect this world's normal routine as little as possible." _

_THAT'S a Hollow?_

According to the communicator, yes.

Sode no Shirayuki's surprise was reflected in her own. The creature inching its way across the cleared space below them could have qualified as one of the crushed animals that littered the roads of this town, so flat and small was it. More like a puddle with a mask on it than anything else. But measly or not, it was still fair game, and her responsibility. Concentrating only on the big fish meant the little ones were free to do as they pleased. And that did not sit well with her.

Rukia had picked up on areas like this as being particularly tempting to Hollows. Apparently, such structures were houses of healing, similar to the offices of the Fourth back home. While she could not speak as to the quality of their care, such a setting served as the perfect feeding ground for demons. The already fragile humans who were brought here for treatment were weak and especially susceptible to having their souls sucked out. Detention facilities were other easy targets where deaths attracted no attention and were cleaned up quietly without a fuss. Some Hollows actually went so far as to attack and kill their quarry in full view of others, relying on human ignorance to explain away what they could not understand.

As for this one, it was not so brazen. She had lain in wait for almost an hour. The creature's strength was so ridiculously weak that it barely registered to her senses. As a result, it spent most of its time in between worlds, preferring swift sneak attacks on defenseless prey like children or the elderly.

Sitting in an odd contraption that was apparently a chair on wheels, a small child was being allowed outside the healing house, ostensibly to get some fresh air. The boy had a towel wrapped around his head, and strange threads running out of his ears that connected to a tiny device in his lap. His eyes were closed, head swaying in time to some inner rhythm, and he clearly had no idea of what was creeping up behind him.

The nameless Hollow slithered across the grass. As it drew closer, the mask began to rise up out of it, ascending on a long glob of jelly, until the vaguely kabuki-like face loomed twice as tall as its intended victim.

It might have grown higher, but just then Rukia swept in and cut its head in half from behind. There was a brief gasp, followed by a butterfly bobbing off to find its new home.

She watched it ascend away.

"Don't talk back!"

That came from the child. His savior gazed at him, wondering if perhaps he had seen her. But no, his eyes were closed. He couldn't have seen anything.

"Don't talk back!"

Something about the way he said it made her curious. Drawing closer, she pressed her ear against his. The contact could not be felt by this human, but much to Rukia's surprise, she found herself suddenly able to hear… well, she supposed it must be music of some kind, but certainly like nothing else she had heard before. Intrigued, the shinigami remained bent over her charge, moving her head in time to his to keep that weird blend of words, beats and instruments available to her. At some point, the unseen musicians would repeat themselves, at which point the boy always took his cue and called out with them. His companion remained enthralled by this new discovery.

It was very, very strange.

A hand came down and touched the kid's shoulder gently. Both he and his invisible guardian glanced up together. A middle-aged woman in one of those uniforms that looked vaguely like a shihakushō smiled down at them.

"Time for your next round, Kameyo."

"Okay."

Rukia stepped away as the attendant rolled her charge back towards the building. She watched them go. The pair passed a white-haired man with glasses wearing one of those unusual styles of dress that seemed so foreign to her eyes. He was talking on a cell phone, but paused to nod greetings to both of them before continuing on his way. She remained where she was until the sickly youngster was once more in the house of care where he would be safe. For some reason she had never been able to fathom, Hollows were never inside this complex. Others, yes, but not this one. Perhaps the house boasted a charm of some kind that prevented any of the monsters from getting in. Apparently such things were known to exist in the living world.

As she was pondering this mystery, the man moved to within a foot of her.

"Thank you."

_Hey. That was for you._

What?

Surprised, the black-haired ghost looked up at the mortal, but he was already turning away from her.

"No, Shinji, I wasn't talking to you… Forget about it, and enough of your excuses. I want those cases delivered to my hospital by tomorrow morning at the latest, or I'll have you dragged into my office by the afternoon. Do you understand?"

She thought about speaking, just to see if he would respond, but by this point he was already well away from her. As he moved, Rukia noticed an odd medallion dangling from his wrist, shaped like a five-pointed star. Did most men wear such things?

There was no one to answer her, and so she put it from her mind.

ENTRY #38: _"Here, in this place, I can finally do some real good. All my years of training are about to be put to the test. I know that I may die out here, but that threat holds little fear for me. Until I meet an opponent that can match me, I will think only about how to achieve victory. I have been blessed with some of the best tutors in the afterlife. Hopefully, I will be able to thank them upon my return to Soul Society. For some reason, I do not feel alone."_

Her sword was at the ready. Rukia moved slowly in a circle, keeping the prowling creature in sight. The Hollow was composed largely of a great white mask that boasted three different faces. A twisted arm sprouted up out of one side, and a leg from the other. Fingers like knives trailed gossamer scraps of webbing. It hopped around her, swinging from one appendage to another without visible effort. Nothing much to look at, but all the same, dangerous. The records identified it as TripliHate, and its bounty was the first one she had seen in the last three days, making the rest of her kills seem like small fry by comparison.

It was smarter than most, refraining from blithely charging in or even roaring as most undead soul eaters seemed to prefer. It had sensed her coming and apparently decided to wait within the dilapidated building that was its lair. There had been a web set up that it had sought to lure her into, but she had simply lobbed a fireball into its midst. A good thing, too, because as the flames spread all around the area, she had realized that not all of the lines were visible. Had she simply gone wandering in, no doubt she would have become entangled.

"_If the enemy expects you to behave in a certain way, don't oblige them."_

Good advice. Thank you, Izuru.

Now out of its burning dwelling, TripliHate proved more willing to fight. It had apparently conjured more strands of webbing that hung from the sky, scuttling up them with both hands. Some were visible, others were not. From that position it was agile enough to evade her demon magic. She could have sought to torch this webbing as well, but they did not seem connected to one another, so hitting one did not mean getting them all. A Dance might be enough to finish it off, but she preferred to use this opportunity to test the full extent of her capabilities. Moving from the spot she was standing in meant she might risk encountering some of those webs and becoming trapped. So now Rukia was crouched down on one knee, waiting for it to make its move.

She had a plan.

"That last spell you muttered was a dud. Afraid, little girl?"

It could talk too. She hadn't bothered to converse any more than she was willing to look at it directly. Her info had revealed that looking into any of its eyes temporarily paralyzed the victim's muscles. Instead she kept her gaze off to one side, studiously moving it whenever the creature swung from one vine to the next.

"Not nearly enough."

Come on, quit talking, come and get it. A nice fat meal for you, you ugly...

Rukia didn't get to finish that thought, as between one swing and the next the Hollow scampered up the lines and vanished. It went into a Garganta, she realized. Might come at me from the front, so I'd better keep my eyes down. I can counter if so, but in truth, I think this thing prefers to attack…

From behind!

"DIE, SHINIG-URUCK?"

Jumping down at her back, TripliHate had landed right on top of Bakudō 18, _Stair of Starlight._

You're not the only one who can make invisible surfaces. Thank you, Momo.

With that, she spun about and flung her sword right at the spot where she had heard it. The blade swept up and took the beast right between two sets of eyes. It gasped, mask crumbling into fragments, and then broke through the fragile _Stair_, collapsing at her feet. Barehanded, she watched it start to dissolve.

Perfect shot. Thank you, Yumichika.

Rukia didn't bother looking at the human faces that were revealed then. Instead she moved to retrieve her sword from where it landed.

From out of the earth there sprang a massive portico, its surface flanked by a pair of skeleton guardians. She jerked back in surprise, raising the sword in her defense. The gates creaked open, and a force made itself known from just beyond it. The sensation this endeared in her was by no means pleasant, but at the same time, Kuchiki felt no threat towards her life. It was only this intuition that allowed her to refrain from firing her Second Dance when a titanic red arm snaked out and picked up the howling Hollow in its talons, retreating back down into what could only be described as hell.

The portal vanished.

_Well. That was informative._

Yes. Much more impressive than any lecture or recording. The Gates of Hell are most… imposing.

_Well, we've seen the worst that can happen now. Might as well jot this moment down in the journal._

I suppose it's worth a paragraph or two.

_It might seem strange to say it, but this is really easy. I thought it was going to be like back at Hollow Bog. A total nightmare. Is this really all they have to offer us?_

Maybe we've been assigned to a light area, though why I can't imagine.

_No, I think it's just a matter of strength. You've got it, they don't._

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

_My pleasure._

ENTRY #47: _"I am starting to feel more comfortable here. The spirit hostel is most accommodating, and as a bonus, it turns out that my old allies are residing in this area. I noticed the shop just the other day. I have resolved to seek them out after I dispatch last night's interlopers. It's quite exhilarating to think that I should find such quality companions right in my own backyard. Almost as if some invisible hand was guiding me to be with them again. I am looking forward to renewing our acquaintance. No doubt the next entry I make in this journal will be a memorable one."_

The communicator in her pocket began to beep once more. Bringing it out, she called up the info. Both of the Hollows that crossed over last night were in the vicinity. Close by, too.

Kuchiki sprang up, reaching the roof of a nearby building. She ran lightly along it, jumping from one to another. These forts were getting much taller as she ran, composed of stone and what she had come to know was glass. Instead of aiming for the rooftops of these monstrous structures, she simply leapt through the walls, passing with ease through the transparent windows and dashing unnoticed through strangely-dressed mobs of humans sitting at desks and performing odd functions, none of which she bothered to pay much attention to.

In less than five minutes, Rukia had come out at her destination. People were running and screaming far below her. Looking down on the street from her position inside one of the towers, she spied the beast in question. It was an insect type, and its prey was apparently the ghost of a small girl crouched sobbing on the sidewalk.

Withdrawing her sword, the shinigami maiden passed through the pane and swooped down on her howling target.

She paid no attention to the mortal boy standing nearby.

A few seconds later it was finished. Rukia glanced behind her, wondering if there was enough time to perform konsō for this bound spirit. Almost immediately she dismissed the notion. Her com beeped a warning, informing her that the other target was moving away. It had probably sensed the death of its comrade and was unwilling to risk the same fate. She took off in hot pursuit, eager to put a stop to any more loss of life.

For all her determination, the second fugitive proved untraceable, disappearing shortly thereafter back into the realm of the Hollows. Irritated, the resident death god went back to patrolling her territory.

That evening, she went to perform a konsō on a spirit located in what seemed to be a type of small healing hut.

An hour later, it was reported that Rukia Kuchiki had missed her scheduled check-in time with the home office.

* * *

Aizen settled back in his chair and regarded his comrade speculatively. "Tōshirō Hitsugaya?"

"The latest wunderkind from the academy," Gin drawled in a careless manner, examining the screens before them. "Yamamoto-taichou wants me to collar him just as soon as he's welcomed into the Tenth and bring him before the old man, to discuss something very important and secret which no one here has already guessed."

"I knew the name from Hinamori before he ever stood out at school, actually," Sōsuke mused. "They grew up together. She told me that she planned to meet someone from the new class today. If you want to find Hitsugaya, you could probably just follow her."

"Thanks for the heads-up, Aizen-taichou."

The King of Hueco Mundo regarded his subordinate out of the corner of one eye. Even this close, there was nothing to indicate anything being out of sorts with Gin. Yet still, he was concerned for the younger man. There had been quite a lot happening recently.

"Ah, look there. He's going for it, just like you thought he would."

Diverting his attention to one of the screens, Aizen witnessed a tall, stick-thin arrancar with limp black hair and a tremendous half-moon blade falchion approaching a figure dressed completely in white.

"Oi!" the spindly maniac shouted. "Shithead! I'm talking to you, you frilly-coated fuck. It's your superior lookin' to have a word with you!"

The other one turned. From out of the bell-shaped white mask, a deep voice tolled, "Are you addressing…"

"…us, by any chance?" a child's piping tones concluded.

"You deaf as well as ugly?" The aggressor moved in closer, a crazed gleam in his single eye. "Think I didn't hear what you said earlier, eh? Think I didn't hear you talkin' shit behind my back? You got a problem with me, you put it out in the open. You don' go whisperin' while I'm getting my new position assigned to me. That's how things work around here now."

"Now?" There was curiosity in its words. "Do you mean, now that you…"

"… are no longer below us in rank? There's a new sheriff in town, and his name is _Sexta Espada _Nnoitra Jiruga?"

Suddenly the lanky misfit's crescent-shaped battleaxe sprang forth, its edge hovering right up against the white mask, scratching against it faintly.

"Damn skippy, ass-munch," he breathed. "I never showed you what I was capable of before, cuz you were just one level below me. Wouldn't have done me much good to take your blubbery little ass down. But now everybody knows what I'm talkin' about, and it's not gonna end here. You keep those two tongues quiet inside your dome, you won't get what _she _got. And maybe you might live long enough to see me made _Primera_!"

Slowly, one gloved hand rose up to lightly rest upon the bared blade held at its throat.

"We doubt that…"

"… very much."

On that sword-point of a face, those huge teeth exposed themselves even further.

"Guess with two mouths it's twice as hard to keep 'em shut. Lemme give you a hand with…"

There was a high-pitched whine, and the enormous war-blade shattered, dissolving into sparkling fragments to leave the dumbfounded _Sexta_ holding what looked to be a truncheon in his hand.

"Forgive us," his opponent cooed sweetly. "Did we never mention we had that ability? It's a one-time-a-night trick, and only if we can touch with our left hand. We picked it up at the same time…"

"…that we acquired this."

His own sword came out, and from behind that pockmarked helm a new voice shouted, one that both the observers recognized.

"Rankle the Seas and Skies, Nejibana!"

A crystal-bladed trident flowed into being, and in the next instant it drove forth, hooking the big fighter around the throat and driving him back with a deluge of water, impaling its points into a wall. The sharp edge screeched against adamantine skin, drawing no blood, but all the same, its victim coughed and gagged, legs jerking back and forth.

Standing before the pinned berserker, that hidden face could be heard smiling now. "I know what you all think. I'm easy pickings since I'm just a Gillian under all this. But let me remind you of something, tough guy. I've been with this crew longer than any of you. I don't really care how you go about winning prestige, Jiruga, whether it's licking ass or chopping people in the back while your queer little sweetheart distracts them with a magic trick. And even without a weapon right now, maybe you could still kill me."

Sticklike fingers gripped the trident's tip and thrust out, breaking it loose from the wall and driving his attacker back. The water god gave ground, sliding back on his heels with the weapon angled diagonally before him.

"But I want you to keep one thing in mind here," that relaxed, easy voice continued its disturbing litany. "I might just be _Séptima Espada _now, but my duties remain the same. 'Information synchronization'. Sound familiar? Even if I die, I can still transmit to everybody and his mother for leagues around about how Nnoitra Jiruga just lost his _resurrección_, and won't be getting it back anytime soon. There's three other _Espada_ below me who might take a page from your book and decide to cash in on this rare opportunity for advancement. And don't forget all the potential _Espada_ just waiting in the wings, looking for a seat to open up and let them in. How long you think you'd last if I did that, _Sexta?_ How many people would kill you based on personality and looks alone? A man with no friends has no shortage of enemies. So I think you're the one who needs to keep his mouth shut, at least until Santa Terésa puddles back together again. And who knows how long that's gonna take?"

With that, he turned his back on the trembling barehanded fighter and sauntered off, the trident draped over his shoulder.

"Watch your back, 'Top _Espada_'. I'll see you at the next meeting."

Apparently the excitement was over. Reaching out, Aizen flicked the monitor off. Gin cast a look over at him. "You're not going to watch and make sure we don't lose another man so soon?"

"No need," the aspiring deity steepled his fingers together. "I know them both well enough to recognize what will happen next."

"Quite a busy day, to be sure." Leaning against the controls, Ichimaru peered down at Aizen. "Lots of big changes comin' our way. Numbers shifting, and two super-powerful _vasto lorde_ in the ranks now. You think this is the time to allow indiscretions to go unpunished?"

"To which are you referring?"

"That pink-haired poodle got pretty shitty with you back there when you told him he could come back in as _Octava_. Whining about how he used to be _Séptima._ You sure you wanna let him rejoin? He already failed to meet your exacting specifications before, Aizen-taichou."

"He's proved his usefulness," the elder captain responded. "Once more we have a means of masking Hollow signatures completely. They can travel freely again. That should be of use to us. And besides, he knows now that there will be no further advancement for him. He will live and die as _Octava_ or lower. Nothing better."

Aizen glanced up at his silent accomplice then. "We are planting a garden, my friend. More than one, actually. For the seeds to bloom at their best, they sometimes need to be weeded, so the flowers can flourish. You should try to convince me now if we are not of the same mind. Do you agree to this arrangement, Gin?"

This provoked a shrug. "Got no reason to gainsay your decisions, Aizen-taichou. What's next on the agenda?"

His master stood up and moved towards the door, the servant following close behind. "Two is nice, but three would be even better. Perhaps it's time we renewed our efforts to locate that elusive fallen angel."

"You wanna take another stab at hooking the mermaid? She wasn't 'xactly thrilled to see that last party we sent out."

"Now that Barragan has bent the knee, I think she might be more amenable to our entreaties." The door slid open, and they moved into a hallway whose ceiling was lost in shadow. "And besides, she wasn't the only person of interest who popped up on that day. What we need is still being denied to us, after all, thanks to its creator remaining on the loose. Asking the _vasto lorde_ to refrain from removing their masks until we have it in our possession is something of a blot upon my reputation. I would like to see that stain removed at the earliest opportunity." He glanced back over his shoulder. "After you get back home, you might want to see about having a conversation with the Kuchiki girl once more."

"Finally, something to look forward to," the _kitsune_ grinned in a most feral vein.

They came to a crossroads, and drew to a halt. Sōsuke turned a frank look upon his lieutenant. Gin returned the stare.

"Gin," the revolutionary spoke softly, "We can send out a search party. It wouldn't be difficult at all to locate her."

In response, Ichimaru waved dismissively. "She wouldn't thank us for it, and I don' blame her. The lady's better off rotting where she lies. No sense cryin' over spilled milk, I say."

Aizen turned away.

"I see."

"Well, I'm off. See ya later, Taichou, don't stick around here too long. Your double can only hold out for so many days." The Third Squad captain then strode down the left-hand path, raising a hand in farewell without looking back.

"Gin?"

That enigmatic figure stopped and turned around, raising one silver eyebrow in question. "Hmmm?"

The King crossed his arms. "Refresh my memory. Back at Nnoitra's investiture, who was it that Aaroniero was conversing with when he got our prickly new _Sexta _so riled up?"

Standing in the shadows, Gin Ichimaru smiled wider.

"Why, that'd be me, I reckon."

Aizen watched him take his leave then. As he did, a certain phrase came unbidden to his mind.

God, know thy work.

* * *

Ginrei Kuchiki was seated in the chair on his lawn. The last tiny slip of the sun had just passed below the horizon.

A wind blew at his back then, and the drowsing man stirred fitfully.

"Hello, old friend."

The eyes came open blearily. With an effort, he turned his head, feeling the strain and pop of his bones.

On the edge of his vision, he caught the flash of a white robe.

That voice spoke again.

"I felt you becoming restless. It would seem that your medicine is starting to wear off. I wonder if maybe you haven't developed some resistance to it?"

The figure moved around behind him, crossing to the table laden with a selection of choice drink. Ginrei tried to move his head to follow, but found it too painful to do so. Tears came to his eyes, then, and he wept at the outrage he was forced to submit to, though it shamed him even further to do so.

"There, that's better," the intruder sighed. "All taken care of." There was the sound of a cup being filled, and a moment later he felt it pressed to his lips. "Drink it. Don't make me force you, we both know you're no match for me at this stage. Save yourself some dignity."

Though his pride screamed away, eventually the fallen head of the Kuchiki clan allowed the cup to tilt forward. He opened his mouth and drew in the enchanted drink, feeling it dribble down his chin, remembering a time when he had spat it out in fury. And what the monster had threatened to do if he did not relent.

"Swallow, my lord."

He did. It tasted too good to be harmful, one might think. But he was experienced enough to know better. Blazing gray eyes then turned upon the architect of his downfall, hatred lashing out from the deepest reaches of his soul.

"I… know you," Ginrei whispered.

"I knew you first." That figure began to clean up the area, removing any evidence that they had been there. "I found you attempting to spy upon me. You and your daughter-in-law. Is that what still rankles you? There was nothing I could do to prevent it at the time. Be glad that you didn't meet the same end that she did. And anyway, her son avenged her long ago. Why still hate me for a crime that has been redressed?"

The taste in his mouth now had nothing to do with drink. It was bile, and shame.

"You are a… murderer!"

There was no warmth in the eyes that turned upon him now. "Murder? You mean the type that your son the judge condoned, against men and women who had broken no laws? Or perhaps that advocated by your fellow nobles, which is all well and good so long as no one knows about it? Have you forgotten, my captain, that I am a noble as well? Before you. I knew honor, and pride. Yamamoto probably thinks he beat it all out of me long ago, calling it 'impertinence' and 'disrespect'. But I stayed strong, in spite of all the efforts to bring me down. And now it is almost time. The seeds I planted long ago have grown to fruition, even without my hand to guide them. Everyone knows my feelings about combat. It's well documented, practically a part of history. I have lost much to get here, but no more. From now on, this precious elitist world of yours will bleed, as I have bled, until it has been drained of every last drop. Your rule will die. Your _King_ will perish. And a new one will arise. After which time, we will bring about paradise for all worlds. Even you will have cause to thank me then, Ginrei, even you!"

Before the ailing ancient could muster a retort, their mouth came down to his ear, and an incantation was spoken.

With that, the Kuchiki elder sagged slowly in his chair, falling back into blissful, dreamless sleep.

The spell-caster stared down at his sleeping form.

"Talk around it all you want, old father. They won't understand your warnings. Not your grandson Byakuya, and certainly not our precious Commander-General. The only words he cares for are his own. I will take care of them all, don't you worry. Perhaps next time I visit, I'll even bring Byakuya's darling little sister with me, so you can finally meet her. It's a kindness, one you hardly deserve."

They turned away then.

"One…"

The noble in white paused.

Ginrei Kuchiki's lips were moving. Curious, the intruder bent down to listen.

It came faintly then, like the breath of a dying man.

"One… born… from my house… will grow to be… your bane… demon…"

The listener drew back, astonished. Their hands came up slowly, trembling, twisting into claws as they reached for the old man's throat.

Kuchiki gave a sigh then.

And the arms fell back to their sides.

"I am a god," that hidden soul declared. "Gods do not die."

Then they turned to the sunken sun.

"**I WILL NOT DIE. DO YOU HEAR ME? I WILL NOT DIE."**

The white shadow left that estate, disappearing into the fall of night.

_To be continued…_


	14. Aftermath: To Show Our Thanks

Hiroko Shoumen sat in the second row, third seat from the end, on the far side of the room. This meant she had an excellent view of everyone who came into their chamber.

The rest of her colleagues were as punctilious as she was about their meetings. In her first few weeks, in spite of being cognizant of the gravity and seriousness of their duties, the new assemblywoman had entertained herself with little games. Small things, and entirely kept to herself. There had been a great deal of speculation prior to her joining the ranks of this august body. Curiosity was a trait she personally found disrespectful in others, but in regards to herself it was more in line with ascertaining information about what to expect from day to day.

So on the first such morning, one that began at a very early hour, Hiroko arrived twenty minutes prior to the recognized start period. There were no servants to be seen, but tea had been laid out, and she got the distinct impression that the room had been cleaned since her departure yesterday. Good to know. She appreciated cleanliness, almost as much as she valued not having seen any of the menials who performed these duties. Assuming there even was such a staff, and it was not the result of powerful spells known only to this select group. However, more noteworthy than this was the recognition that she was apparently the last person to arrive.

All Shoumen's equals were sitting quietly, almost as if they were waiting for her, and not in a benevolent fashion. Although no words were spoken, the sense that she had fractured some unspoken rule remained with her throughout the day. This did not stop the fledgling magistrate from exercising her voice and opinion throughout the proceedings. Senior members though they might be, this middle-aged seeming woman was not about to blend quietly into the shadows of their admittedly shadowy body. The fact that she was one of only three females in attendance was not lost upon her. It would not do to comport herself in an outspoken manner, but neither was it advantageous to fail to assert herself. Moderation. That was the key, one that had marked her career up until this point. She suspected it was partly due to her tireless dedication to this virtue that the offer to join their ranks had been made. And Hiroko was ready to prove the merit behind that decision.

Still, the following morning, Shoumen arrived an hour early. To her discomfort, she was once again the last person to take a seat. All right. Tomorrow we'll see about two hours. Thinking this as she lowered herself into her chair, taking care to mask any signs of advancing age, the former soldier had to wonder just how much sleep these people actually got. Their lives were shrouded in mystery, to be sure, but even they had to seek repose, yes? Over half of them looked to be on par with the Commander-General in terms of age, and she knew for a fact just how frequently he tended to doze off. In spite of this, as the years went by, though she kept a watchful eye upon everyone she had in her field of vision, never once did Hiroko catch sight of any head-bobbing, snoring, or failure to take note of items of interest. That was gratifying, in a way. It showed that the awe, the prestige afforded this council was well-placed, and she was right to be a part of it. Certainly, this sort of thing was born out mainly through their display of judgment, but still, the maintenance of appearance was not to be underestimated.

I wonder how my old squad is doing, Shoumen thought as she sat down that morning.

It had been almost four years since her last encounter with anyone from that division. Reports were easy enough to come by here, but they could only tell you so much, after all. A firsthand account was much more illuminating. And in spite of her vague mistrust in the beginning, apparently her replacement had lived up to Yamamoto's confidence in him. Very young, to be sure, but clearly powerful. Only a fool would discount that. It came as no real surprise to her when she got wind that Roshōmon had lost his position as lieutenant. What did give her some discomfort was to learn that it was the Fifth seat who had been chosen to take his place. That was something she had often sworn would not happen as long as she was head of that company. And, she thought with regret, apparently her oath had been held to a very strict interpretation.

The new captain seemed to enjoy uprooting the carefully tended garden of martial discipline she had nurtured for over sixty years. He had even gone so far as to demote poor little Sachiko from her position as Third down to Fifth, to take up the other woman's place. While it was true that Fugunushi had not been fit for anything other than paperwork since that disaster at the trials several decades back, still it had seemed undeserving to Hiroko's sensibilities to strip her of that rank. It would have no doubt been considered… cold.

Obviously the new captain did not share her way of thinking. Icy behavior came naturally to him, it would seem.

Hideaki Roshōmon was demoted three more times, and then lost his life in an engagement with the Hollows. After this, her most trusted avenue of information was cut off, and Hiroto determined that this was a sign she should no longer concentrate on such mundane affairs. While the status of the 13 Imperial Guard Squads was paramount to the continued safety of Soul Society, her own contributions were not to be belittled, now that she had ascended to a level even higher than captain. Her word carried more weight than any noble or division head. This pleased the lawmaker greatly.

Keen senses once honed to a diamond-like precision on the battlefield were now put to the test tackling some of the most distressing and harrowing issues to be faced by any ruling body. Judgments were handed out, matters of law and protocol were dissected and discussed vigorously over days and sometimes weeks of debate. There were no vacations to be had. Ever. This gathering was not some pack of paltry elected officials eager to line their own pockets at a minimum of effort. Their inclusion on this council was purely a merit-based honor. This was borne out by the sagacious wisdom affixed to every ruling like a stamp. Justice was rendered entirely at their discretion, afforded by the abundance of wisdom and knowledge they alone were privy to. While some ignorant souls might decry their decisions as harsh, even unwarranted, being so well-informed about all matters of pertinence in their society allowed Shoumen to go to bed with a clean conscience, assured of having passed down the most appropriate and meritorious sentence possible by any god or mortal.

The case of Rukia Kuchiki had consumed their efforts for over a week. Though a termination order had been given should the deserter in any way resist arrest, the final ruling had necessitated a much more thorough examination of the facts. This was done to ensure that when Lord Kuchiki did put in an appearance to champion his adopted sister's defense, there would be no recourse or avenue he might offer up that had not been sufficiently explored. They owed the head of the most powerful clan in Seireitei that much, at least.

The laws were clear, as was their duty. And they performed it. When sentence of death was laid out on his sibling, Byakuya Kuchiki did not so much as raise his head. He only waited for them to finish the official proclamation, and once that was complete, the man just said, "I understand," before taking his leave of them. That irked Hiroko slightly. It was as if he had discounted all the effort they had made to render a fair and lawful verdict. Not even so much as a 'by-your-leave'. Arrogant, she concluded from behind the judicial mask she wore now. Though they had once served together as captains, she was now free to admit to herself that she had never particularly liked Byakuya. There was always some measure of disdain in his bearing towards everyone he met, if not everything. The man observed the rules of their world with impeccable grace (after having learned his lesson from that horrific excuse for a marriage, and the shame that his wife's dying wish had bestowed upon him, at least). There was no one more dependable when it came to preserving justice.

However, his former colleague and current superior was not unmindful of certain events in the past.

Once before, this very room had been invaded, its security breached, and two criminals were freed as a result. The offender responsible for this fiasco had been the heir to the Shihoin fortune, and it was well-known their ties to the Kuchiki. And while nothing had ever been proven to implicate that most paramount house, suspicions lingered among her assembled cohorts. It almost would have been a relief for the man to have lashed out at them with bile and rancor. Or make some misguided attempt to mitigate Rukia's sentence, perhaps even going so far as to try and help her escape. Just to have those concerns finally laid to rest.

But the exact opposite was the case. Byakuya actually prevailed upon them to _decrease_ the stay of execution, down from the regular 35 days to 25. They refused to go any lower. Then, sighting laws so ancient they had to be dredged up from the archives to be confirmed, he convinced them to have the execution method be nothing less than the Sōkyoku, something usually reserved only for captain-class offenders. Shoumen was doubly perplexed by that. As a result, Captain Kuchiki himself, along with every other division head including the Commander-General, would be forced to attend this event. Otherwise, there would have been no witnesses permitted, and Rukia Kuchiki would have died alone in a small chamber reserved for such disgraces.

Perhaps the lofty lord wanted to make certain with his own eyes that his lowborn charge was truly put out of his misery. A little disappointing, she admitted to herself at the end of the day. But it was no use dwelling upon such things. The order had been given. The girl must die. This week there was new business to discuss.

Hiroko Shoumen, one of the forty distinguished council members who composed the Central 46 Chambers, was listening to one of her fellows speaking about the matter of rezoning districts in the Southern Rukongai, when she noticed something.

She had a good seat, after all, so when someone stepped into the opening to this room, it caught her attention.

And then the intruder spoke.

"Gentlemen, ladies, forgive the intrusion. I must beg your forbearance on this morning."

Aizen Sōsuke smiled as he stepped slowly down the stairs into their presence.

What was _he_ doing here?

"Sōsuke-taichou, what is the meaning of this?" One of the six judges spoke clearly from his seat in a recess behind her. "You have not been called upon to appear before us. It is against the law to come unbidden into our chamber."

The captain of Squad Five continued to stroll casually down the steps, looking relaxed and handsome. Whispers came from several of the other councilmen, but were quickly silenced. A quarter of the way from the bottom, he started speaking again.

"It is the law that I have come to speak to you worthy folk upon." Dressed in his white robe, hands tucked away in the sleeves, Captain Aizen now stepped down onto the same plane as them. "Once, many years ago, a young woman sat me down and spoke very passionately about our positions here in the afterlife. She argued against a ruling she felt violated our most sacred precepts. In fact, she did so with such heart, such conviction, that I found myself motivated to place my own best interests at risk. It was that moving, what she said to me."

Hiroko glanced around. None of her fellows seemed distressed by this unprecedented occurrence, but neither did they appear aware of how to respond to it. Having known Sōsuke for years, and sensing an opportunity to distinguish herself here, she leaned forward and affixed her eyes upon the young man.

"We are not amused by your behavior, Aizen-taichou. You know full well that we make no decision lightly in this room. But once it is made, there is no refuting or amending our verdict." A flash of inspiration came to her then. "If you think that your position of authority will have any effect on the fate of Rukia Kuchiki, you are blind to your own worth. It would be best if you left at once."

He stood before them. His head turned back and forth slightly, as if he were getting a feel for the room and everyone in it. The smile on his lips never faltered.

Then in one swift movement, Aizen Sōsuke drew his sword and flung it into the air.

The gleaming blade spun end-over-end, flashing in the light, before finally embedding itself point-first in the cleared space reserved for prisoners at the center of the room. It swayed back and forth gracefully, emitting a soft warbling note. Several of the assemblymen sprang up, shouting angrily. Even Hiroko found it hard to keep from coming to her feet, shock and dismay blossoming suddenly in her chest. She knew him, and more than that, she knew the rules. There were no weapons allowed in this room. To draw one carried an edict of death.

Had they just lost another captain?

A sense of cold certainty now paired with the distress.

If he knew the seriousness of what he had just done, Aizen gave no sign. He held his bare hands out to them, palms upward, like so many penitents before him.

"Now I do belong here, Shoumen-dono. I am a criminal. And criminals are judged within these halls. I am also a witness to the crime. Shall I inform you all what led up to it?"

"Aizen Sōsuke, that is enough." The eldest of their group remained in his seat, fingers steepled together. The bald head did not even deign to look in the direction of the offending party. "Clearly you are drunk. We will not call the Security Forces to take you away, nor will we seek to punish you for this fiasco. Whatever reason you might have, it will remain with you, if you see fit to leave now."

During this speech, a thought drifted into her head. The Security Forces. The specialized division assigned to their protection. They should have confiscated his weapon before he entered the building. At the very least, we should have received a notice of his approach. For some strange reason, Hiroko found herself reaching down to the empty place where her own zanpakutō had hung for so many years. Right then, she had never missed its presence more.

While this realization was being born, the brown-eyed elite soldier had made his way down to the prisoners' pit, passing with ease between the rows of venerable scholars and esteemed noblemen. Upon reaching it, he sat down without any appearance of discomfort. His back was to her, and she could see the symbol of his division clearly inked out upon the snow-white haori.

"I have found myself many times in my life believing that I know everything there is to know," Aizen said. "The number of instances where someone actually surprised me, I can count on one hand. One of them was when Byakuya Kuchiki, the twenty-eighth head of that house, married a common woman from the slums of Rukongai. Another was when he adopted a penniless shinigami outcast as his sister six years later. And a third was when that same girl came into my quarters in the middle of the night and begged me to save the life of a friend."

No one spoke or interrupted. It was as though he were putting on a performance, one of such sincerity and clear passion that they could not help but hear him out, regardless of the outcome. Even Hiroko found herself succumbing to the spell.

"She would have done anything for him. I know that. If I had demanded she strip naked and give her body up to me, to use however I might like, she would have done it. Had I called for her to bare her neck and receive the edge of my blade, her head would have been rolling across my floor within a minute. That night I saw bravery of a caliber that dwarfed anything I had ever shown on the battlefield. Whereas I spend my days holding my tongue, walking from one lie to the next, she found the courage to challenge me, this society, and her own royal family. The realization of her strength was enough to sway me into letting my own mask slip, if only for a little while. I changed plans that I had been crafting for over a hundred years that night. Because of her."

He paused to take a sip of tea. The warm nourishing aroma of it seeped into her nose. For only a second she stopped to wonder: where did he get the cup? Then the master orator was off once more.

"She spoke of worth, and in doing so, displayed her own. Her name was Rukia Kuchiki. And two weeks ago you sentenced her to death, for the crime of granting her powers to a human."

Another drink, and she could hear him smiling now. "Please understand, I'm not here asking you to revoke your decision. That wouldn't be proper, after all. I, more than anyone, know that any edict passed down by the Central Chamber of 46 can suffer no appeal. Once they have weighed all the evidence and pronounced sentence of death on someone, no matter their status or birth, that person will perish without fail, in a most stately and orderly pace. And it is only fitting that this tradition remain unbroken, for so long as this body exists."

Aizen ran a hand through his thick curly hair. "In point of fact, I am here to help you with that. One hundred years ago, a verdict was proclaimed but never carried out. Much like with poor helpless Rukia, there was no chance of an appeal. The two men involved then escaped out of this very chamber, with some help, of course. I know of it, because I testified before the hearing. And I hereby give you my word, noble sirs and madams. Before this year is out, those two fugitives will have their ancient convictions upheld. And more."

Shoumen felt a tickling at her mouth. She licked her lips surreptitiously, trying not to attract attention.

"But as for my little Rukia Kuchiki…"

Her tongue split in half.

Blood spattered her chin and down the front of her judicial robes. Something then jerked between Hiroko's teeth, causing her head to crack back against the seat.

"I regret to inform you that there can be no execution allowed on that score."

The woman gasped, swallowing blood and air. Her jaws clamped down on what could only be cold sharp steel. Shoumen's hands came up, flailing and grasping to find the attacker. They caught hold of cloth, fabric, and beneath it two arms thin and hard as branches.

"Howdy-do, Captain Shoumen."

That voice…!

Suddenly the short sword lodged between her teeth like a horse's bit pulled backwards, and she could smell, taste, and feel as it cut her mouth even wider. Hiroko screamed and screamed shrilly, pinned to her seat. She strained with all her prodigious strength to force that wakizashi out. With no success. The hands that held it did not budge even a fraction. She couldn't stand up. Couldn't escape or call out kidō, or even for help.

_SOMEONE HELP US!_

"I am somewhat pressed for time, good councilmen, so I cannot elaborate any further. Suffice it to say that owing to the marvelous quality of that girl's soul, it would not be imprudent to think that several other captains might share a desire to see her safe. After all, that is what we do. Save souls who are in jeopardy. Much like the gods we call ourselves. And I believe that, given the right evidence, I can bring them to question the veracity of your sentence sufficiently to have them scrambling to stop the execution."

Aizen Sōsuke remained sitting with his back to her. The other members of the Chamber regarded him with varying levels of aloof coldness and stern judgment. Their faces retained that expression of reserved superiority she had spent several years trying to emulate.

They did not react to her plight. By no indication did they even seem to notice she was being assaulted.

Tears were streaming down her face, mixing with the blood and spittle erupting from her clenched jaws.

_Hiroko, what's going on? Where are you, I don't know what's happening! Find me, please, please, HE'S KILLING YOU!_

The voice of her soul cutter faded, as that same lethal amused tone whispered in her ear once more.

"I dislike you a lot." He drew the sword side to side slightly like a saw, and she gagged on her own fluids. "Not too far off the mark to say that I despise you. I could tell you why, but… Nah, why bother? It isn't as though you've got time to repent or nothin'. And asking for forgiveness wouldn't work, cuz it wasn't me you offended. Still, if you wanna give it a try, I'm all ears. Are you sorry for what you did?"

He jerked the sword and her head forward, then banged it back hard. The rear of her throat was now laid open, and hot blood poured down her trachea and esophagus.

"You are? Aww, that's just so sunny! Brightens my day! There's hope for all of us, I guess."

The mutilated lawmaker's nails were digging into his skin beneath the silken fabric, but he seemed to pay it no mind. Instead her attacker began the slow, inevitable pull back towards him.

"Thank you all for listening to me this morning. I know that you are very busy, important people. But I have been waiting to address you like this for some time. Ever since I was a little boy, actually. It's been something of a dream of mine. And today, I have finally had that wish fulfilled. Thank you, all of you. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Through the terror, through the haze of blood and hate and confusion, something flashed over her vision. For just a few seconds, it was like there were two scenes in front of Hiroko's eyes. In one of them, the members of the Council were sitting peacefully, watching this inscrutable man's story play out. They were majestic, and dignified, and noble. The very picture of wise judicious sagacity. Truly, these people were gods.

And in the other it was a bloodbath. Every person off to her right, from one side of the room to the other, had been slaughtered. Throats cut, heads split open, the closest still had their hearts pumping liquid carnation all over the table. They remained sitting in their seats. Not even one of those corpses seemed to have tried to flee. Like they had been entranced while being massacred.

In that scene, Aizen Sōsuke was not sitting down on the dais. He was moving amongst the council members, casually murdering them. Between each execution, the gallant captain would stop to clean off his sword on their robes. When this was done, he moved to the next and laid them open. And he cleaned his saber again. They just sat there, staring down at the floor. Some of them would look at one another, shaking their aged heads condemningly, little realizing that death itself was approaching them on sandaled feet.

It was the coldest, most casual butchery she had ever seen.

A twist of the knife brought Hiroko back to her own predicament. Her faceless attacker clucked his tongue in an aggrieved fashion, and spoke. "Well, it's been fun, but I got a lot more work to do here. Better pick up the pace 'fore Aizen-taichou scolds me. I'm glad we could chat like this, Shoumen-taichou. It's been a real pleasure servicing you today!"

Then Gin Ichimaru drew Shinsō towards him, listening to the last scrape of her back teeth come off its blade, to be replaced by the sweet sound of bone being cut. He proceeded on through the rest while the woman's feet lashed out in every direction and her fists beat against his arms. Gin was careful not to cut his hand wrapped around the zanpakutō 's admittedly short blade, which was why the process took so very long. You had to be cautious when executing this sort of maneuver, after all.

When the top of her head came off twenty seconds later, Hiroko Shoumen had already been dead for fifteen.

* * *

Ichimaru came strolling over to where he sat cleaning off Kyōka Suigetsu. Looking up at his blood-spattered accomplice, Aizen let a hint of mild reproach come into his face.

"You're somewhat of a mess, Gin."

"Couldn't be helped, Aizen-taichou," the killer smiled happily. "Although I notice that you don't have a spot on you. Quite a feat, that."

Caramel eyes did not bother to verify the truth of that statement. "My condition is not important. From this day forth I will be living in this enclave, maybe as long as a week, with no one to see me. You, however, must make yourself presentable until such time as my research is complete. Anyone who saw you right now would be compelled to wonder just what you had been up to, my friend."

"They're always wondering that," Gin shot back. "Don't worry," and in one swift movement he peeled off his blood-stained robe and draped it over one arm, "I brought along a change of clothes. The smell might linger, but I'll get home fast 'n take a quick bath. Gotta go pick up my lieutenant for the show, after all. Want me to check on yours too?"

Aizen only smiled. "My lieutenant is right in front of me, and he seems more than capable of handling himself."

Ichimaru raised a two-fingered salute to his silver crown, that fixed smile not faltering one whit. No reason to expect any different. If he was not used to Gin's personality by now, he never would be. With this final thought, Sōsuke finished cleaning his closest confidante and returned it to its scabbard. He then stood up.

"The chamber will presently be sealed. No one will disturb me. I'll issue advances on Rukia's execution date depending on how quickly I can find the information I want. You'll have to excuse me now, I have a veritable mountain of archives to comb through. And there doesn't seem to be anyone leaping up to offer a hand in that respect."

His ally cocked a grin at that, then turned and departed, picking his way through the field of corpses littering the room.

The soon-to-be officially deceased captain of the Fifth division let his gaze wander over that grim environment. The sound of blood dripping down into pools was the only noise audible. Even the death rattles had finally come to a halt. He gazed upon the faces of several men and women he had known and served with. They had looked upon him as a friend and ally. Some of them had ruled this world for over a thousand years.

Aizen turned away.

_It's the end of an era._

An era of fools. I will send you soon to act out my murder for them.

_I am eager now to put on that show. This performance was thrilling. Truly a magnificent undertaking, keeping them from even recognizing their own deaths 'til it was over. I tell you, I have never felt so inspired as at this moment. You used me well._

Thank you. Yours is the praise I always value the most.

_Your man could have soured it, though. He took his time killing that one woman. My art almost failed because of it._

Give Gin his pleasures. He is forced to wear a mask at all times. I know how trying that can be.

_I am not as forgiving as you are when it comes to my designs. What I do is art. It does not suffer the influence of amateurs._

Fortunately, you always have me to come up with another canvas when one proves insufficient. I am honored to hold the brush that would produce such masterpieces. It pleases me to contribute to your genius, in my own small way.

_Flatterer. You needn't stroke my back so. I am not a cat that craves attention. Mine is the quiet creation of splendors that must go unrecognized, lest they lose all value in the viewing. _

One day I must put you away, though. For the good of all.

_Yes. I am a sword before I am a brush. I know your heart. And it is just._

Aizen paused, letting his thoughts drift back to the scene of their latest creative effort together.

They called what they did justice too, you know.

_They are dead. Why give their notions any more time?_

I spoke the truth before. I have been waiting for this since I was a child. But sometimes I feel as if I do not even know my own heart. Not completely. I have thought long upon this, and still I can find no clear solution. The great question always looms.

_You mean, 'Why'?_

Yes.

_THAT is the difference between us and them. They no longer questioned why. We still continue to ask. And one day, I am certain the veil will part, and the truth will reveal itself to us. When we view the world…_

"…through the eyes of God," he spoke out loud.

_Exactly._

"Then what are we waiting for? Let us proceed."

With that, the discoursing deity made his way into the secret chambers of the slain bureaucrats.

* * *

"Will there be anything else, Ojousama?"

Sitting before her guests, Kuchiki Rukia turned her head to address the black-clad servant. "That will be all. You may go."

He gave a crisp bow and backed out, remaining in this humbled position even when closing the door.

Returning her attention to the trio sitting seiza on the polished wooden floor, she found herself confronted by some very shocked expressions.

"Kuchiki-san," the lanky academic breathed incredulously, "You're… _royalty?_"

It was rather nice to see that usually stiff and hostile face worked into a semblance of earnest befuddlement. He was probably flitting back through his fabulous memory, reviewing everything he had ever said to her and finding it horribly insulting. I really should let them know that I was only adopted.

_No. Don't. Let's you and I enjoy this moment._

Well, alright, if you insist.

For perhaps the first time in the last forty years, Rukia found herself pleased to be a noble.

"AH!"

This came from the person seated in the middle, a curvaceous nymph with flowing orange locks and dazzling eyes. Right now those orbs seemed even larger than usual. Had they truly been gems, their value would have doubled in the last few seconds.

"That means we're each a princess!" the girl exclaimed. "And with two princesses opposite him, even using division that means Kurosaki-kun has to be at least a prince! It's such a perfect equation that way!"

That made absolutely no sense. Good. This means she has come through this experience with her essence intact. Thank heaven for small miracles.

"I threw you."

The muscled oak tree was clenching his fists so hard they might break.

"You're like a queen, and I threw you into the air the first time we spoke." Eyes wide but otherwise showing only an impassive surface, he then asked, "Is your family going to kill me for that?"

Rukia laughed lightly, an affectionate smile lighting up her whole face.

"Actually, there's no need for anyone else to know about that incident, Yasutora-san. It can be a secret just between us."

Sitting in a hall in Kuchiki Manor, the three ryoka, Sado 'Chad' Yasutora, Orihime Inoue, and Uryū Ishida stared at their hostess and former schoolmate with newfound wonder and respect.

_You should have had 'em kowtow, just a little. Glasses-boy, at the very least. I would have liked making him squirm. _

That will not be necessary, thank you.

_Oh, oh! Have the family guards all glare at him and make threatening gestures when nobody's looking! That'll really put the fear of death into him!_

You go back to plotting, and let me speak to my friends.

_What did you call them, princess?_

Sode no Shirayuki's presence removed itself then, leaving her mistress feeling just a little regretful. She had almost cried when her sword had spoken to her once again earlier today, for the first time in months. At that moment, she had known that she would really be all right.

Less than a month ago, Rukia had been brought back to Soul Society a prisoner, accused of having bestowed death god powers upon a human. For this, as well as other incidents in the past, she accepted the death sentence their ruling body had eventually pronounced upon her without protest. The next few weeks had been spent in hopeless misery, wondering how her wretched existence could possibly serve to bring more shame and pain upon the people she cared about.

About halfway through the grace period before her sentence was carried out, she had received word that the Seireitei had been opposed by a quartet of intruders. At the time, the news had seemed preposterous. Who could possibly be crazy enough to challenge the captains of death, with all their war apparatuses and prodigious soul power?

The answer was, these three fools before her.

Along with one other.

I can't believe they're still alive. And, for that matter, so am I. Really gives a person something to think about.

Oh, wait. I was just getting to that.

With that, Rukia Kuchiki bowed forward until her forehead touched the ground, her purple silk kimono making not a sound.

"I would like to offer my most sincere and humble thanks for the efforts you made up 'til now. I deeply regret any injury you suffered during this escapade. As a token of my gratitude, please accept the comforts of my home during your stay in Soul Society. So long as you are here, consider yourselves the honored guests of the Kuchiki clan. If there is anything you might need, you have only to ask, and it will be provided."

The tiny noblewoman straightened up then, and her cheeks were wet with tears.

"All of you. Truly. _Thank_ you!"

They fell over themselves apologizing to her.

"Kuchiki-hime, please don't think you need to thank us! We were only…!"

"I could get in real trouble. Are you sure you won't tell…?"

"…real purpose for being here wasn't for your sake. I had a score to settle with…"

She listened to them go on, remembering a scene much like this one, when it was just the girls sitting under a tree, arguing about boys and other unnecessary nonsense.

Unnecessary?

I was so completely wrong. I am more than a shinigami, a dead girl who sends souls to the afterlife.

I have a home.

Right now, Soul Society had never seemed more like the paradise it was always meant to be. In the span of a single day, her greatest fears had been lifted. Aizen Sōsuke had fled the Seireitei in company with his two fellow traitors, Gin Ichimaru and Kaname Tosen. The enormity of what the Fifth squad captain had done to her, his lieutenant Hinamori, and everyone else was still shocking. But even after the revelation that this seemingly gentle and worthy soul was in truth a blood-soaked sadist, what counted at this precise moment (and what she almost wanted to thank Aizen for) was that he had taken Ichimaru with him.

He's gone. Even now, as she sat in this room, the idea filled her with the most transcendent peace. That evil smiling man is not in Soul Society. No more turning a corner to find him standing there waiting for me. No more seeing him coming a mile away and wishing I could run but knowing that wouldn't happen. No more being forced to keep still and let him touch me and smile at me and talk to me like we're old friends and there's nothing wrong. Never again. If he ever shows his face in this world, he'll be hunted down and killed. He has gone rogue, and if they were willing to kill me just for giving my powers to a human, then he should surely be slain.

Were they really going to kill me?

Or was it all just another lie?

Lies. All around me.

That was the second source of her solace, to find that her oldest fear was based upon a lie.

Byakuya Kuchiki did not hate her. That eerily calm face that she had dreaded displeasing for the last few decades bore her no ill will. In fact, he had been her brother for years before they ever met, as a result of marrying a sister she never knew she had. Hisana Kuchiki. Strange to think that at one point, she had actually had a family, and not one she had needed to be invited into. Perhaps therein lay the difficulty in accepting it, the idea that she didn't have to strive or prove herself to earn that honor. Instead it was something she had possessed since birth. Rather dispiriting to learn that she had lost it just as easily, one day six years before she came to live in this house. What kind of person was my sister, she wondered? Saint? Sinner? Something in between? Rukia knew that her older sibling had abandoned her when she was an infant, but found it hard to hate the dead woman for that. She was used to hardship. Would she have been a better person, or even a happier one, if Hisana had stayed with her?

I suppose we'll never know, right?

Before her guardian spirit could respond, another voice chimed in.

"Rukia-hime!"

Looking up, she found a clearly flustered Orihime. Okay, before anything else happens, let's get one thing straight.

"Inoue-chan," Rukia spoke gently, "You needn't refer to me by 'hime'. I was 'Rukia-chan' back on Earth, and nothing has changed since then."

"But it has!" That awestruck look on the teenager's face was starting to make her feel unaccountably guilty. Mercy, will I never be able to feel comfortable in my own skin? "Everything's changed, so much has happened! You almost died, that dead man turned out to not be dead… well, actually, I suppose he is dead, just like you and everybody here, but, he was Dead… and now I suppose he's back to being just dead again. And one minute we were criminals and the next we're heroes, and I got hit in the head I don't know how many times by I don't know how many different people, and then Kurosaki-kun just beat the _crap_ out of that beautiful brother of yours! And you're a _princess!"_

Well, actually, summed up like that, there had been a few changes in her life.

While she was engaged in pondering these developments, Ishida Uryū spoke up. "Kuchiki-san…" He paused when Orihime shot him a scandalized look, and Rukia found herself amused by the flustered expression the stoic archer adopted before finding his voice again. "I appreciate the offer, but accepting your hospitality might be politically indiscreet. I am a Quincy, after all, in blood if nothing else. And Soul Society has a policy regarding us. It might be for the best if I found other accommodations during my visit here."

"Actually, Ishida-san," and in that moment, the three humans felt a distinctly cold breeze emanating from their regal host, "The others are free to decline if they so choose, but in your case, I am going to have to insist that you accept my offer."

That got his attention. "I beg your pardon?"

Every inch the lady of the manor, she fixed him with the same look that Byakuya reserved for errant servants. It seemed to have some effect, which was more a testament to her acting skills than any real danger. "You are going to need all the protection you can get. I have been informed that you severely wounded Mayuri Kurotsuchi, the captain of the Twelfth division. Although he has made a complete recovery, this is not a man who forgives injuries. With the Central 46 of Soul Society obliterated and so many captains and lieutenants defected or bedridden, there is sufficient chaos in our world now that were you to disappear, it might be some time before anyone notices. And regardless of your feelings towards shinigami, or whatever lame excuse you have concocted in your head, you risked your life twice now in my defense. I will not allow you to be harmed any more than you already have."

As he was opening his mouth to respond with a clearly haughty remark, she narrowed her eyes and said, "Twenty-four hour sewing store, indeed!"

Judging by the slight flush that crept into his cheeks, it was clear this last remark had done its work. The other two were looking at them both with bemused expressions, but it seemed that the archer had conceded.

"Very well, Kuchiki Rukia." He stood up then, and bowed slightly. "I'll accept your invitation, in the interests of discharging any obligation you might feel towards me. I will not have it be said that a Quincy spurned a sincere offer, on its face." She chose to ignore that last bit. "That being said, I'm somewhat exhausted from today's debacle. If it's all the same to your Ladyship, I would like to rest now."

"Of course." Reaching up, Rukia touched the pearl and ivory necklace at her throat. It warmed slightly, and at this signal, the doors slid open to reveal servants dressed in Kuchiki livery, three apiece for each of her guests. "These will be your retainers for your time here. Your comfort is their duty. Speak to them if you have any questions or needs, or if you would like to call upon me. They will inform me of the request, and I will attend to you immediately. You are now the honored guests of the Noble House of Kuchiki. Please take full advantage of any benefits my home may have to afford."

Orihime gaped at this display, while Chad did his best impersonation of a living statue. Uryū only bowed to her again, and then proceeded to stride from the room, followed now by his trio of attendants. As he left, her redheaded houseguest popped up, bouncing slightly as she did. "Ah, I think I'll go check in on Kurosaki-kun, make sure he's doing all right! Is it alright if I leave, Kuchiki-hi…oj…sa…cha…"

In contrast to the Quincy's performance, this display brought a smile to her face. "You are free to come and go as you wish, Orihime-chan. I've asked our chef to be at your beck and call in terms of the dishes you prefer. I hope you don't tax his creativity too much."

"Oh…thank you!" The lovely damsel beamed joyously. Almost immediately after, though, a visible pall settled over her. "Um… would you like… I mean, that is to say… Kurosaki-kun… shall I tell him…?"

"I will be by to see Ichigo again later today. With my brother incapacitated, I have to see to the upkeep of his holdings. Rest assured, I will take the time to express my gratitude to our new war hero."

It was hard to properly classify the look on Orihime's face now, but she seemed well enough while she took her leave. As the party trailed away, Rukia heard her guest already beginning to question the servants. "Excuse me, but have any of you seen our other friend? He came with us, has four legs and talks like my grandfather used to. Do you think you could help me find him? Oh! And his name's Yo…" Her voice diminished out of earshot then.

Yes, even in the land of the dead, Orihime Inoue remained the same cheerful outer-space invader as back home.

This left only her and Yasutora. The giant gazed at her with that solemn air he managed to possess, as if he were afraid even by looking at someone too intently he might hurt them. Actually, considering his strength, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.

"Are you really all right?" he asked.

The immediate response of 'yes' died halfway to her lips, cut off by the earnest compassion in that low, rumbling voice. It made her consider the question more seriously.

"That remains to be seen," Kuchiki spoke softly. "But right now, I suppose I'm better off than at any time for the last hundred and fifty years. It will have to do. Thank you for your concern, Sado-san."

He nodded, and clambered slowly to his feet. Moving to the door, Chad stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder.

"I'm glad you're safe now."

Before he could see the shock this casual comment brought up in her, he was lumbering away with the servants trailing in his prodigious shadow.

Rukia was left alone.

She turned and looked through the open doors that led outside. The day was already half over. Her brother and Ichigo had been sequestered in the Fourth's emergency medical ward for several hours now. Every remaining captain and lieutenant capable of walking, including Renji, had been called away by the Commander-General, ostensibly to discuss wartime preparations, but she suspected this was primarily to get their stories straight for disseminating the news of the three captains' defection to the public. Normally this would be a duty handled by the offices of the 46. But nowadays, that group might as well be called Chamber 0, if what Isane Kotetsu had told her was true. So they were all dead, were they? That's…

Good.

_You shouldn't even think that._

What are they going to do? Come back to life and censure me? I can think whatever I want, it's not like I had anything to do with their deaths. Aizen Sōsuke did me two favors unknowingly today.

_They were dead for long before now, remember? How can you even know it was them who gave your execution order and not Aizen?_

Byakuya spoke to them directly, remember?

_What if he was just hypnotized to think that?_

Enough. No point talking it over now, unless you want me to go to Hueco Mundo and ask Aizen directly. Even if you could materialize, that would still be another death sentence, and I have had quite enough of those for one lifetime.

_So what are you going to do? Sit here and gloat over all your enemies being brought low?_

No. I'm going to do what the Kuchiki have been training me to do for half a century. I'm going to rule this house until Nii-sama recovers.

_Are you… going to see him today?_

Rukia hesitated. Her eyes stayed rooted to the rich tableau spreading off to the edges of the high-walled estate, fingers twisting slightly in her lap. Was it the thought of going to visit her elder brother, or Byakuya Kuchiki? Just what was he to her now? For all the years she had known him, that silent figure had been like a sword gently pricking her spine while she walked over a bottomless abyss on a tightrope that went on forever. It was maddening to think that she had been incorrect in this assumption for so long. Had he actually been protecting her this whole time, in his own strange way? The result of an oath sworn to his dying love? What had he really been thinking every time he looked at her for the past fifty years?

Does he care about me?

Lord Kuchiki watched me as I was about to be executed, but my Nii-sama pulled me out of a madman's grip and saved me from Ichimaru's sword.

Captain Kuchiki hunted me down and locked me in a cell, while my Nii-sama stepped into the academy where I was floundering and brought me into his home.

Byakuya Kuchiki turned his back on me and commanded that I be lied to, and my Nii-sama took my hand and begged me to forgive him for all that.

So what does that make us? Are we a family? Is such a thing really supposed to be this messed up, confusing, and potentially fatal? Come to think of it, what sort of experience do I have with a home life?

Well, let's find an example. How about, oh, say, the Kurosaki family? There's a deviant sneak-attacking-up-the-skirt father, two girls as different as night and day, a scowling surly impolite orange-headed invitation to a fight, and a living doll/pet who is the first person to openly express sexual interest in me in quite a while. I wonder what Nii-sama would have to say about inter-species carnal relations?

_Cat._

What?

_Cat!_

What are you…?

As she thought this, something landed in Rukia's lap.

Surprised, the girl looked down to find a black tabby gazing up at her, flicking its tail from side to side. It meowed.

She stared.

"Where did you come from?"

The way it was looking at her, she almost expected it to open its mouth and answer. Instead the small feline closed its eyes and twisted its head around, as if demanding that she give it some attention. Cautiously, as if this might prove to be another of Sōsuke's illusions, she reached out and scratched under its chin. Seemed to be real enough. The cat nuzzled against her hand then in a most insistent manner, and without further ado, she began to stroke along its sleek back. Her new friend curled up in her lap and proceeded to purr.

For about a minute Rukia just sat there, petting this inexplicable intruder. What was a cat doing on the grounds? The servants were under strict orders not to allow any such animals from running around. She had never seen one in all her time living here. These thoughts now supplanted the taxing preoccupations that had troubled her previously. Along with this there was a sense of déjà vu. A memory came back to her then, of her first visit to the mortal world and the strange people she had met there. Kisuke Urahara had owned a black cat much like this one that had taken to her while she stayed with him. Of course, that was over thirty years ago, that feline must be long dead by now. Briefly, the idea occurred to her that this must be its ghost. They were in the land of the dead, after all. But really, that was just silly. What were the chances that the same kitty would seek her out in this whole vast dimension? It was completely impossible.

"Impossible, right, little one? You couldn't be the same."

Yellow orbs trained on her for a moment. It turned its head and licked her hand then, the dry sandpaper tongue causing her skin to tingle.

Really, this is just too bizarre. But somehow soothing, all the same.

"Have you come to steal fish from our pantry? I have to see to my duties now, small thief. My brother is away, so I suppose in his absence I can make an exception to the rule. If you promise to catch any vermin you might come across, you have free run of the manor until he returns. As the current Lady of Kuchiki, I will make it so. Does that sound fine to you?"

The cat, a female, rubbed its head against her knee before vaulting off. It prowled around her, and gave another meow. Rukia stood up, and with her new servant at her side, she strode from the room. Waiting outside were several of the high-ranking household staff, including the aged majordomo.

"Lady Kuchiki. We await upon your pleasure," he said, and they all knelt and touched their heads to the floor.

For only a minute, looking at them, the thought came to her: these people all lied to me. They treated me well, but nonetheless, they are not to be trusted. Not completely. Devotion of that magnitude can easily be turned against one. It would not be wise to leave anything to chance here.

_You remind me of Byakuya._

A harsh reprimand would have followed this comment before today. But now, Rukia only offered her formless sword a potent silence.

I am his sister, whatever our relationship proves to be. I will do this house the courtesy that it has done me.

I am Rukia Kuchiki, and I am going to put that name to good use.

* * *

His head was buzzing. There was a distinct flush to his cheeks, and he found it hard to stay on his feet.

This is a lot like being drunk, Abarai Renji reflected.

He then concentrated very hard on not fainting, trying not to sweat so obviously, and paying close attention to what was being said.

"Our enemy is not to be underestimated. Whether in thought or deed, we will offer him no unwarranted advantage. The correct application of our remaining military strength shall be done to see that this temporary indiscretion does not grow into something worse. More than the very order of our world, this bears directly on our pride as shinigami. Indeed, the two are indistinguishable. Towards that end, we shall engage in the following operations."

It was Captain-Commander Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni talking. The mightiest combatant in all the afterlife. Ancient battle-scarred victor of a thousand campaigns. The unvanquished (if not invincible) ultimate warrior, with the power to wipe out a legion of Hollows with the merest flicker of his power!

_I have never met a more long-winded person in all my life. Do you think…_

…_he talked all his enemies to death?_

Are you two _trying _to get me killed?

Right now, Renji was in no position to withstand a challenge from a regular shinigami, much less the original founder of their order. Despite some life-saving measures administered to him in the last few hours, he had still come very close to death twice today. This, combined with the debilitating training he had endured to bridge the final gap between himself and ban-kai, was serving to leave him in a condition that usually only resulted after a night of heroically hard drinking. But the lieutenant of the Sixth was determined to attend this meeting. His captain was in even worse condition than himself. I owe it to him, as his subordinate, to represent our squad in this important conference. Because he is my commander. And also because…

"To all residents of Soul Society, this news will go out. We have suffered the loss of three division heads due to the interference of the Hollow Nation, but otherwise our security remains undisturbed. In addition…"

He saved her.

Rukia was alive today in no small part to that same cold, heartless man who had taken her away from him in the first place. Now, truth be told, the real hero of this affair was that implausible ignorant mortal, Kurosaki Ichigo. More than anyone (even myself, I hate to admit), that loudmouthed punk stepped up and delivered the goods. He risked his own ass by kicking those belonging to some very powerful and dangerous people (including my own, I _really_ hate to admit!), and in doing so, he actually managed to get those deluded bastards to look past their rulebooks and inflated egos and see the threat that was racing towards them.

At this thought, Abarai looked around the room.

"… all divisions are roused on full alert and confined to the Seireitei until otherwise notified. Resident shinigami on duty in the world of the living are to remain at their posts. We will inform them of the basic truth to this matter, enough to insure that Aizen cannot come upon them completely unawares. Besides which…"

They were in the First division's audience chamber. All remaining taichou and fukutaichou in the Court of Pure Souls were sitting in this high-vaulted cathedral. It was a pretty bleak turnout, actually. Only half of the usual faces were to be seen, and none of them seemed to be at their best. Only the Fourth, Eleventh, Twelfth, First, Second, Eighth, and Seventh divisions were fully represented. Mayuri Kurotsuchi had come in without makeup or headgear, complaining of the hasty call to arms and at not being recognized by the guards out front. Not their fault, really, the guy almost looked human now. Nanao Ise seemed as pale and fragile as Captain Ukitake, and her own captain constantly hovered close by, his usual flirtatious manner now replaced with some rather serious concern. Kyōraku Shunsui had been noticeably silent throughout this conclave.

"…the inner enclave of the Central Chamber of 46, including the Royal Archives, will be opened for examination to determine just what precisely that man might have learned while he was convalescing in there this past week. The Thirteenth division, under Captain Ukitake's personal supervision, will conduct this inquiry. Cleanup and transfer of the bodies…"

The Kenpachi looked as menacing as ever. Fidgeting at the murderous mountain's side, little Yachiru Kusajishi turned her head and waved enthusiastically at Renji, a gesture he quickly returned in a less obvious manner. She pouted, and proceeded to make a face that plainly said, 'More energy next time, dope!' He then went back to not staring at the other giant in the room. The one nearly _everybody_ was trying to avoid looking at for too long. That would be Saijin Komamura, now relieved of his concealing headgear and revealed to possess a head that, while quite majestic and imposing, clearly belonged to a dog of some kind. His lieutenant, another veteran of the Eleventh just like Abarai, was as cool and collected as ever. Maybe. I mean, Tetsuzaemon Iba was still sporting his own trademark headgear, eyes concealed behind some pretty awesome-looking shades, he had to admit. But in terms of sheer menace, nothing could quite compare to the look contained in the narrowed black eyes of Soifon. More than ever, that one looked ready to slit the throat of anyone who came too close to her. Her overweight vice-captain, whose name Renji could not remember, was keeping very still and very quiet. Smarter than he looks, that one.

"…will be undertaken by the first component of Squad Four, with Unohana-taichou supervising. Other than that, no other personnel will be allowed to enter those halls. Thirdly, concerning the disposition of the former _ryoka_…"

From the three renegade captains' squads, there was no one. Hisagi Shūhei had been reduced to a wet rag, one completely wrung out of spiritual power. How and why this had happened, he refused to go into. As for Izuru Kira of the Third, prospective reports had him listed as dazed and confused but able to eat solid foods in another day or two. The reason for his condition was seated to Renji's front and right, in the form of Rangiku Matsumoto. That lovely lady's own captain was sharing a hospital ward with another of his old classmates.

"…they are not to be molested in any way. Regardless of any infraction of the law prior to this date on their part, we will leave such matters to be addressed at a more appropriate time. For now, they are to be afforded our respect and consideration as proven allies. In this matter, I will suffer no disobedience. Captain Kurotsuchi, this pertains directly to you. The Quincy boy is no concern of yours. That matter is settled…"

Momo Hinamori of the Fifth was still in critical condition. It set his teeth on edge to think of just how she had come to be in that state. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, the back-alley bruiser would never have believed that Aizen Sōsuke would actually turn traitor. Gin Ichimaru, no sweat, and Kaname Tosen, well, you wouldn't have to break my thumbs to convince me of that. But _AIZEN?_ The guy was like a god among men! He watched my back for years! He saved my life! Hell, he saved _Momo's_ life! And I'm supposed to believe that it was all an act? That he was running some vast con game the whole time, designed solely to perpetrate the theft of some old-fashioned doohickey nobody even knew existed? That's nuts, it doesn't make any sense!

Unfortunately, the proof of this nightmare was lying in a hospital bed with a device from the Twelfth division being the only thing keeping her breathing. This along with the new scars he would have to boast courtesy of Kyōka Suigetsu's blade had acted to cure Renji very fast of any delusions he might ever have harbored towards the character and nature of Aizen Sōsuke. Next time they met, he would not hesitate or even bother asking why. I'll just kill the bastard, end of story.

"…and finally, the Mobile Corps will be dispatched to interview all members of those divisions currently confined to their grounds. Until such time as their loyalty has been confirmed, the Fifth, Third, and Ninth are effectively disabled. All missions are curtailed and will be transferred to other squads based upon…"

Actually, this whole meeting strikes me as being pretty dumb, Renji thought absently. If Aizen were to pop back into this room with a bunch of super-badass Hollows (that I know for a fact exist), he could probably wipe out all the remaining leaders of the divisions. Whose idea was it to get everybody in one place like this, anyway? It gives me a headache just thinking about it!

His debilitated state took that moment to rise up on him. Renji swayed groggily from his position towards the back of the room. As if sensing his distress, the healer-goddess who headed the Fourth looked over at him, a benevolent smile on her face.

It made him suddenly think of the first time he had ever been in this room.

* * *

"_I hereby confer, in the presence of all the captains of the various divisions of Seireitei, the rank of vice-captain upon Abarai Renji of the Sixth Division. We welcome you into the highest ranks our military has to offer, Lieutenant Abarai."_

_The lieutenant of the First division, whose name escaped him at the moment, then proffered the scroll to him. Renji accepted it with a heady mix of triumph and paranoia. In spite of everything he had done to earn this, there was still the sensation that it all might be stripped away from him at any given moment. The only way to cement his achievements was to proceed one step higher than this, and attain that long dreamt-of captaincy. It was only a little ways off, now. _

_Aged Yamamoto tapped his cane firmly on the floor from his seat before them all. His menacing growl then proceeded with the official investing ceremony. "All captains, advance and honor our latest officer with your words."_

_This was certainly quite a treat. Despite having fought under several different captains throughout his career, the former alley-dweller had actually only directly met five of them. These were Captain Aizen, the now-Captain Ichimaru, Captain Ukitake, Captain Kurotsuchi, and his own Captain Kuchiki. To be introduced in person one after another to the greatest fighters in all the Gotei 13 would give him the chance to see what exactly he was up against._

_All I need is for one of the people in this room to retire or kick the bucket. I wonder which it will be? As these admittedly laughable and potentially treasonous thoughts were rolling around in his head, the first star in line stepped forward._

_Captain of the Thirteenth division, Jūshirō Ukitake._

"_Congratulations, Abarai-san. I know Rukia will be overjoyed to hear of this."_

"_Thank you, Taichou. I'm looking forward to telling her myself."_

_Captain of the Twelfth division, Mayuri Kurotsuchi._

"_Don't disappoint. You'll have to work doubly hard now to prove to us that you're of good stock!"_

"_Thank you, Taichou. I'll… do my best."_

_Captain of the Eleventh division, Zaraki Kenpachi._

"_You remember what my boys taught you, grunt."_

"'_We never surrender'. Thank you, Taichou."_

_So it went, until finally there stepped before him the first man he had ever truly admired._

_Captain of the Fifth division, Aizen Sōsuke._

"_Abarai-san, you've proven yourself without a doubt. The office is honored by you more than you by it."_

"_Thank you, Taichou. Part of that is due to you. I'll do us both proud."_

_Captain of the Fourth division, Unohana Retsu._

"_Good work, Abarai-fukutaichou."_

"_Thank you, Ta…Ta…Tah…Ha-Han…Hana-chan…!"_

_After a few seconds of tongue-tied bafflement in which Captain Kuchiki wondered to himself if he had made some kind of mistake with this man, the gracious lady covered her face with a sleeve to hide a small smile and moved away._

_Please. Don't let anybody notice._

_Captain of the Third division, Gin Ichimaru._

"_Oi, Renji-kun. Is that your zanpakutō in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"_

_I…hate…_

_

* * *

_

Thoughts of the past were blending in and out of his perceptions of this moment. Trying to correlate that smiling brown-haired sophisticate with the remorseless creature he had met on Sokyōku Hill caused Renji to feel like he might be sick at any moment. I almost died there, right beside Rukia. I tried to reach her, but it was Byakuya Kuchiki who saved her. I don't think I ever hated him more than at that moment. But in addition, I finally saw something decent in that man. And that realization makes me want to beat him all the more.

To clear his head, the spiky-headed soldier played a game in which he divided up the people in this room according to one very specific principle. That being, which of them was present at Rukia's almost-execution, and which of them did nothing to stop it.

He wasn't going to forget that scene anytime soon.

"… my consideration. Bear in mind, we are on highest alert until our reconnaissance teams can offer us a better insight as to the nature of Aizen's forces. The site of the disaster and its contents, including all remnants of the Sokyōku halberd, are off limits to any below the level of captain. You all have your duties to carry out. Now go and do so! The faith that has been placed in us cannot be allowed to waver for a moment! Return to your posts, and do them proud!"

"YES, SOTAICHOU!" they all chorused obediently, and bowed.

"Dismissed!" the old man thundered.

As the gray-bearded superman rose to depart, Renji allowed his eyes to lift slightly from the floor. He watched Captain Yamamoto as he left the room.

It wasn't just Aizen or Byakuya I wanted to kill that day.

I got real good hearing, old man. I know what you said about me, and if Ichigo hadn't rescued her, I would've shown you who was 'replaceable'.

I'm watching you. You think nobody's judging you? You're just damn lucky I wasn't a real traitor. I'd have wiped you all out by now.

"Abarai-san? Everything all right?"

Renji looked into the deep midnight shades of his fellow lieutenant Iba, and proceeded to flip down his own custom eyewear.

"Yeah. 'Scuze me, somewhere I gotta be."

There was something he had to see for himself.

_To be continued..._


	15. Aftermath: Confronting Fears

"Excuse me. What sort of fabric is this?"

"Do you want it? Please, take it! A gift to you, worthy gentleman. Free of charge!"

The frightened vendor grinned in a way that was almost painful to look at. Uryū Ishida felt somewhat ashamed to produce a reaction like this in another human being. Well, dead soul, technically. But still, he did not like this. It felt like being a bully, which was a breed he detested in any dimension.

His gang stood behind him, in the form of several Kuchiki servants. Their fine clothes, menacing demeanors and prominent quarterstaves had the effect of intimidating everyone he spoke to in this bazaar. And as much as he would have liked to rid himself of their services, they had made it clear to him that it was out of the question. Their precious Ojousama had ordered them to accompany him everywhere he went. And with the loss of his Quincy powers, there wasn't even the possibility of escaping from them, or just pinning them to a wall by their clothes.

The humbled vigilante ground his teeth in frustration. As he did, Ishida picked up the bolt of fabric and turned back to his bodyguards. "Please see to it this man is paid for his wares later," he addressed their leader.

"We will add his name to the list, honored sir."

The way he spoke made it sound vaguely threatening, and from the corner of one eye Uryū saw the shopkeeper quail even further. Feeling even worse than before, he tramped away before they gave the poor man a heart attack, the three strongmen arrayed behind him.

His previous experience with conditions in the Alley of Pure Souls had done nothing to improve his view of Soul Society in general. For all that he was a logical person who had never put much stock in the promise of heaven, Ishida had to admit that even he felt cheated by the truth. Souls who came here upon death were arbitrarily assigned to primitive Edo-era districts in which they had to live. It was hard to say what qualifications were used to make this decision. All he knew for sure now was that the farther you moved out from the Seireitei and its shinigami overlords, the more deplorable the living arrangements became.

In addition to this, he was disgusted to find that money and all its travails still existed in the afterlife. The Kuchiki were practically swimming in it, probably at the expense of everyone else. Certainly everybody here had a home, and they didn't need food, but if you wanted anything else besides the basics, you still had to fork over cash of some kind. It made his teeth clench, recalling meeting people back in the real world who had been turned away from hospitals and the treatment they needed because they lacked insurance or the means to pay for it. Money had always been a sensitive topic in his family, to be sure, and the thought that this sore point would continue to pester him to the grave and beyond made for the rotten cherry on this melted pistachio sundae that was Soul Society.

As he walked, the white-clad mortal took note of several people in the lanes and up in the balconies of this artists' district gesturing and whispering at him. He strove not to look at them. In a way, it was somewhat like being back in high school; you move through the halls, avoiding stares and the occasional rude remark from ignorant folk. He knew how he appeared to others. A bow-thin intellectual, cold and serious and pompous. The sort of person any dependable bully would feel compelled to hassle on general principle. Ishida had known the tender mercies of such trash for his entire school career, and early on he had almost been tempted to treat them with the same efficient ruthlessness as he did their spiritual counterparts. A shame his grandfather had raised him to be a better person than that.

"_Never lash out without thinking things through, Uryū. You were born to defend the helpless, not to abuse your power for your own sake. Your mind and soul must be willing to accept that while there is a counter to every evil in this world, the same level of force is not necessarily appropriate for every instance. Do not let your anger, however justified, blind you to your compassion."_

Souken Ishida had trained his grandson in more than just the ways of Quincy magic. He had stood in as the father figure to a boy who had found himself estranged from his true parent at a young age. Ryūken Ishida was never one to waste his time on anything to do with his heritage. Not when it could be spent turning a profit. And this icy disposition was not reserved simply for spiritual matters. Uryū had hardly spoken a handful of words at a time to his father in recent years, and not entirely of his own choosing. Considering the level of affection he had received from his deceased grandparent, it was hard for him to imagine how that same tenderness and care could have produced a person as absolutely heartless as his father.

Now, granted, some people at school might refer to him in the same manner, but all the same, that was due to…

"GET DOWN!"

Hardly paying any attention to his surroundings, Ishida was surprised when someone slammed into him from behind. As he fell, there came a sharp crack and a smell similar to the stench of ozone.

He landed gracelessly in the dirt, shocked but already attempting to scramble to his feet. These instincts were thwarted by a foot on his back. There was a rush of people around him, followed by the sounds of panicked screams. The high-school student looked up, and only then realized that his glasses had fallen off.

"Stay down, sir!"

One of his black-garbed guardians stood directly over Uryū's form, legs spread on either side of his body. The quarterstaff he had held was reduced to glowing charcoal fragments, and he stood with only fists clenched in readiness. Before him, the other two were shoulder to shoulder, weapons crossed and glowing with magic. The rest of the people in this area were fleeing in a scene of utter chaos, and he could just barely make out why.

From the wall of a building, there seemed to be something emerging directly out of the wood. Almost like a termite, he thought. It was about the size of a small dog, but this in no way diminished the clear threat it represented. The thing was wormlike, but its hairless head bore a hideous resemblance to a human, with empty eye sockets and a mouth filled with small sharp teeth. Eight appendages ending in long claws sprouted like a lizard's fringe from its neck, and it hissed as it darted forward, snapping at the warding manservants.

The guards shouted an incantation at the same time, and purple lightning blazed from their conjoined weapons. The bolt hit right where the thing wasn't anymore, it had already dropped down and slithered around them faster than Ishida would have thought possible. Both of the Kuchiki retainers sprang back with remarkable agility and speed, their staves striking at the beast. The whole time, they kept themselves interposed between it and him, and the creature howled in apparent frustration. The third soldier reached down and pulled him to his feet, dragging him away from that scene at top speed.

Of a sudden, the thing zipped forward, attempting to dart between one man's legs. He brought his weapon down, and the blunt tip punctured that slimy tail. Rather than halting, though, the monster simply _pulled,_ and its back half split off from the rest, dissolving away as the main body slithered towards the racing pair.

The second man sprang and delivered a crushing swing to the beast's head that sent it skidding wide of its intended target. Burned and bleeding, it shrieked, and then turned to look at its attacker. As it did, the guard howled in pain, and fell to his knees with eyes closed, blood weeping from between the lids. Unopposed, the worm now scrabbled in pursuit of the Quincy.

Looking back as they raced through the deserted streets, Uryū saw a blurred white shape gaining upon them with unholy swiftness. For the first time, fear gripped him. _I'm going to die, _he thought, _and there's nothing I can do about it. _

As he ran, the boy's faulty vision failed to notice a hole in the ground before him. His foot came down in it, ankle twisting painfully, and he fell with a cry, his protector spinning around a few paces ahead.

The monster sprang for him, its blades extended to kill.

There was a rush of air, and in the next instant the guard had flung himself over Ishida, covering him with his own body.

"DON'T!" the Quincy cried in horror, but it was too late, as…

Something bright flashed overhead, catching the worm in the mouth and slamming it down to the dirt.

A terrible squeal tore through his ears, sounding disturbingly like an infant's howls. From beneath the guardsman's bulk, Uryū watched in horrified fascination as his attacker quickly caught ablaze, burning with deep crimson fire. In just a few seconds, there was nothing but a blackened patch of dirt with a knife sticking out of it.

He stared at it for a few moments.

"You two all right?"

Just another second, and this man would have been…

"HEY! _Ryoka_! You deaf or what?"

"We are safe thanks to you, shinigami-san. Your aid was much appreciated."

The weight of his protector came off him then.

"Noble sir, can you stand?"

He realized suddenly that the man was addressing him. Rising to his knee, Uryū managed to come up with, "Yes… thank you."

An instant later, this was proved to be an exaggeration, as a sharp stab of pain lanced up his injured ankle. He toppled forward, only to be caught by two black-clad arms.

"Oof! You're heavier than you look, _ryoka_!"

"Let us move him over to that stall, my lady. There seem to be chairs set up."

"Right, sounds good. No, don't bother, I've got him! I can manage just fine, I've carried my own captain's weight before, not that he really needed me to, he's perfectly fine and healthy thanks to me, why, what are you thinking?"

"…nothing, my lady."

"That's right, nothing! Oh, look, here come our friends."

Before he knew what was happening, Ishida found himself sitting on a bench under the shade of an awning. By the sound of it, there were several more people coming upon them, but apparently the danger had passed.

"What did you find?"

"No fatalities, ma'am. One of the guardsmen was blinded by a spell of some kind, though."

"Take him straight away to the Fourth, and ask Lieutenant Kotetsu to have a look at him. Tell her it's for me."

"Yes, ma'am. We also found these."

"Perfect! Okay, get going now, go on, I want to talk to this guy." The woman, whose face he was incapable of making out, try though he might, turned and spoke to him once again. "Here." There was motion, and then the young man felt something sliding over his ears. The next instant, he could see once more, and he reached up to adjust the glasses that were now returned to their rightful place.

Standing before him was a shinigami so short she might have actually been smaller than Rukia, even. Her hair was sandy brown and cropped close to her head. A pair of enormous eyes studied him with keen interest, one white-gloved finger stroking her chin. He blinked, and when it became clear that his attention was on her, the girl suddenly leaned forward, planted her hands on the table behind him, and frowned suspiciously.

"Are you the one who threw Rukia-chan?"

What? What kind of question was that?

"No," he replied evenly. "That was Kurosaki."

"I'm not talking about at the execution, I was there, I saw that! I meant back in the mortal realm! Are you the guy who threw Rukia-chan at a flying Hollow?"

Hold on, I think I actually remember hearing something about this.

"I believe that was Sado-san."

Bright eyes narrowed in suspicion, her nose thrust in his face, and for some reason Ishida wondered if he had stepped from one peril into another.

"Okay," the girl spoke suddenly. "Got it. Thanks for clearing that up." She then turned and shouted, "IT WAS THE BIG ONE!" Several of the other shinigami proceeded to nod and write down on notepads.

By that point, the source of this apparent revelation was starting to feel his body trembling with latent exhilaration, and while he attempted to calm his spirit-form, Uryū finally managed to ask the two questions he wanted to know the most.

"Excuse me, but who are you and what exactly was that thing back there?"

The midget regarded him once more. She crossed her arms and attempted to look down her nose at him. Unfortunately, considering that he was still two inches taller than her even when sitting down, this proved somewhat less than feasible. Still, she managed to pull off something resembling an air of authority.

"I'll have you know that you are addressing Kiyone Kotetsu, the Third seat of Division Thirteen…"

"Co-Third seat!" someone behind her yelled.

Without pausing to address this clarification, Kiyone continued. "…and while the fact that it burned to pieces upon death makes it impossible to verify your attacker's origin, I think it's safe to say that my own captain's fears were borne out. As he suspected, you have just been the victim of an assault by the captain of the Twelfth, Mayuri Kurotsuchi. Therefore the person to whom you owe your continued existence is the wise and benevolent master of the Thirteenth, a man who…!"

Ishida didn't bother listening to the rest of this speech. Instead he turned to the two remaining Kuchiki retainers standing at attention close by.

"You saved my life. All three of you. I'm sorry your friend was injured, and for putting you in this position to begin with. You have my thanks."

"…feared and respected, a god among death gods…!"

"Thanks are not necessary, good sir," the speaker of the group said without expression. "Our Lady Kuchiki commanded us to protect you from any assault. We will do so unto death."

"…women want him, while men want to _be_ him…!"

The idea of anyone dying in his place held no appeal for Uryū, but he did not feel it would be appropriate to voice any notions to the contrary. Before he could, though, the second seneschal had bent down by his side.

"I believe I can tend to the gentleman's foot, my lady. Perhaps you two would like to converse while we wait upon further orders?"

"…-SHIRO UKITAKE!" Kotetsu glanced swiftly between them. "What? Oh, yes, I suppose we should get a few things out in the open, now that you mention it."

She picked up a stool and seated herself opposite Uryū. His spectral bodyguard knelt and placed his hands around the fractured ankle, but before he could protest this unnecessary treatment, a warm glow infused his injury, and he could feel some manner of healing coming into play. While it still rankled his pride to be so helpless, he had not been merely mouthing niceties at them earlier. These men had risked their lives to see him safe, and he was not about to do anything that might imply he did not appreciate their extraordinary service.

As he was coming to this conclusion, the dwarfish chatterbox was off again.

"Captains Ukitake and Shunsui both felt, given what they knew about Mayuri-taichou, that even with the Commander-General's specific warning in regards to your safety the guy might try something against you. But with things being the way they are, we couldn't spare a captain or a lieutenant to watch out for you, and that's what would be needed to counteract any hostilities from the Twelfth. Not enough people to do the work as it is. Fortunately for you, the Thirteenth has _two_ Third seats. We practically run the squad when captain's indisposed, so we're almost like lieutenants. This means there's a spare to deal with anything the captain feels might warrant special attention. Since Kuchiki-chan is in our division, and there was a rumor that she had offered you protection, Ukitake-taichou deemed it proper for us to see to your safety as well. He assigned _me_ to watch over you while you were outside the grounds of the Kuchiki manor, and so that's how we knew that something was up. Well?"

Uryū blinked, not having expected the monologue to cut off so soon. "Well what?"

"You thanked these two!" the girl huffed. "I'm still waiting to get some gratitude over here! I _am_ the one who killed that thing, after all!"

"Oh, yes… thank yo..." He paused. "Wait a minute, if you were watching us, why did it take you so long to jump in?"

At this, Kiyone's face turned bright red.

"W-well, you see," she stammered, "I just… happened to notice an acquaintance of mine, and they had something to tell me they said couldn't wait! It was important, they said, and you seemed to be in good hands, so we decided to take a little break and find out what was going on. After all, it might have had something to do with your case, I didn't know what it was, we have to keep abreast of all information that might prove pertinent, that's what Captain says, and he knows about these sorts of things, so that's why I try to learn everything I can and then spread the information to all concerned…!"

"And all unconcerned," the diligent healer muttered, still working on his charge's leg.

His partner chuckled. Uryū, however, had caught upon something of interest.

"So you're a rumormonger. Someone who gathers information."

The vocal shinigami's jaws clapped shut, her face screwed up in consternation at this. "Hey, listen, you, I never spread a rumor in my life! Folks talk to me, I talk to them, does that constitute spreading rumors? It's just conversation! And yes, currency changes hands sometimes, but it's not like I'm promoting lies or anything! Everything I inform upon is always verified and backed up one-hundred percent! And… and…" She stopped, looking quite nervous all of a sudden. "And you're not going to tell my captain, are you?"

From what little he had seen and heard of Captain Ukitake, Ishida suspected that he was well aware of his subordinate's faults. But at this time, he was more concerned about how they could be of use to him, rather than the moral implications that were an offshoot of this discussion.

"Kotetsu-san, I would like your assistance in providing me with some information that might be of use to me."

She looked at him strangely for a moment. Then a hungry gleam came into her eyes, and the brown-haired blabbermouth leaned forward, body tense with eagerness.

"If you want to get anything out of me, you'll have to give something in return. That's how these things work, _ryoka_!"

A barter economy, the defunct Quincy thought. He glanced around him, taking in the shop where they happened to be sitting. There was a price board up on one wall, detailing how much the food and drinks cost. Apparently this was a shop that catered exclusively to shinigami, since supposedly other souls did not experience hunger in this world. That seemed like a livable system. But still…

The few people they had spoken to during their brief time in the First Ring of the Rukongai had classified the majority of shinigami as overbearing jerks. His own experiences during the past week seemed to bear out that generalization. This was in no way like the afterlife all the religions back home insisted upon. Here there hardly seemed to be any improvement at all. Countless people living in a squalor that was actually several centuries behind the times. Murderous lunatics allowed to roam about, most of them seeming to have free run of this place. Laws that allowed for the casual execution of someone like Rukia Kuchiki, who for all that she was a shinigami had always struck him as being a decent sort of person. Subterfuge and politics. Assassinations. Criminals.

_Grandfather._

And now, I can't even fight back against it anymore. I'm forced to rely on people like this protecting me. What actual good have I been up 'til now, though? Even with all that power, I wasn't able to avenge my sensei. The only thing I have left to go on is my wits. And really, that's nothing to sneer at. Maybe if the people in charge of this place had bothered to stock up on brains instead of power, they might never have let things get as horrible as they are.

Well, if the shinigami can't be depended upon to think in terms of protecting people, then I guess it's up to me.

"I want for you to tell me what you know about Aizen Sōsuke, Gin Ichimaru, Kaname Tosen…" he paused for a second, "…and Mayuri Kurotsuchi. In exchange, what would you like to know?"

Kiyone Kotetsu positively vibrated with glee. She leaned in, and spoke in a hushed whisper.

"For starters: Who trained you guys? How did you get into Soul Society? How'd your friend get ban-kai? Which of you messed up Yumichika Ayasegawa's hair? Did you get to see Lord Kuchiki's private chambers? Where did you meet Yoruichi Shihoin? And what's your relationship with that redheaded _ryoka_ girl?"

Out of all of them, it was the last question which made him seriously reconsider the merits of this course.

But he had to make do with what he had.

"You first, shinigami."

* * *

The guards crossed two pikes before him, and Renji paused.

"Fukutaichou," one of them intoned from within his helmet, "You have not been granted permission to access the Central 46 Compound."

"I got business to discuss with the Captain, and it can't wait," he replied back.

From the slits of their helms, the guards exchanged glances with one another. Apparently the look on his face was enough to make them seriously consider any request. At last the one who had spoken previously turned back about. "If you wait here, one of us will enter and inform the Captain of your presence. Otherwise there is no…"

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

The door behind them slid up. Both men spun about to see the source of this outcry, and without hesitating Renji slipped under their halberds and entered the compound, ignoring their shouts. As he did, he dodged past a procession of bizarre-looking entities dressed in white apparel. They were wheeling several carts covered in cloth past him into the open air outside.

Hot on the heels of this crowd there came a small figure in white whose most prominent feature was being of ambiguous sex. With timid eyes and a rat-tail tied at the front of their head, the person was speaking rapidly with a blonde man with glasses who bore the green band of the Fourth. That one Renji recognized from his frequent trips to the infirmary as Yasochika Ieumura, Third seat of that squad. In addition, he also recalled him as being somewhat of a self-important prick.

"Sir, a fact-finding autopsy was requested, as per protocol, and we have taken sufficient samples to carry out our investigations. There's… really nothing more I can say." The kid seemed quite frantic to placate his superior, but coming as he did from Mayuri's crew, Renji suspected that his real fear stemmed from displeasing his twisted leader.

For his part, Yasochika looked quite incensed. "Who?" he demanded. "Who from my company made that request? I would have been informed of anyone dispatching a hell butterfly from within the Underground Assembly Hall, and our orders were quite clear. No members of any division besides the Fourth and Thirteenth were granted access to this site! These bodies are to be treated with utmost respect! On top of that, this is a crime scene! When Unohana-taichou hears of this…!"

"We have experience with crime scenes, sir, believe me," the boy (girl?) hopped from side to side, simultaneously trying to keep up with the taller man and block his path to the departing lab rats. "And… I'm truly sorry, but I am not at liberty to discuss the source of our investigation's request! Captain Kurotsuchi was also very clear about that. Please understand, we are only following orders."

Moving surreptitiously by them, Renji grinned to himself. Yeah, just following orders. See where that's gotten us lately. The guards were still blocked off by the press of bodies filling the entryway, and he took full advantage of this fact to escape into the lower levels of this fortified cavern.

After a few minutes of descending stairs and passageways without seeing another soul, the grim-eyed fighter at last came upon a scene that left him quite chilled.

Below him, a chamber whose floor was composed of ascending rings with tables and chairs was crawling with medical specialists, dead bodies, and most of all, blood. Even up here, he could still smell it. It was dried and old, but the unwholesome stench of a slaughter still lingered. Hall of justice, he pondered, wrinkling his nose? More like an abattoir.

As he looked upon this unwholesome scene, Abarai suddenly noticed a girl wearing a face-mask reach beneath a table and stand up, now holding by the hair what could only be the top of a human head. The eyes were still bulging out as it spun slowly round and round in her grip. When the full horror of what she held came upon her, the kid dropped it suddenly and fell to the ground, pulling off her mask and vomiting in a torrent all over herself.

Several of her crew came and helped the crying mortician to her feet, leading her away while others began to clean away evidence of her distress. They were gentle with their colleague, and the lieutenant got the feeling that she was not the first to lose control at the extent of this mess. Actually, he wasn't that far off himself, come to think of it.

_We should never have let him come this far. We should have…_

…_killed Gin the first time we ever saw him…_

…_touching Rukia._

Remembering this incident as well as others, and recognizing a hundred signs and indications he had held his tongue over or dismissed outright, he felt a slow-building fury awakening in him. Aizen and Gin. I can still practically smell them in here. Shit, it looks like a bunch of wild dogs were let loose. They must have done it together, but I know which one enjoyed it enough to do _that_.

And I let the bastard speak to Rukia. Touch her with his filthy hands, even knowing in my heart that he was always capable of something like this. Because he saved me once. Him and one other, a man who I never in my wildest dreams thought capable of conducting a crime like this.

As the distraught medic was led past him, weeping and apologizing, Renji made a promise. If ever he had either of those two in reach of his sword again, he would make them suffer for this specifically. While the ex-vagrant had held no love for Soul Society's governmental overlords, especially considering what they had contrived to see done to his lifelong friend and ally, even they did not deserve to be butchered like hogs in the market.

_Butchered? Perhaps. But what about…_

…_slain outright, mmm? Didn't you fantasize about cutting through their ranks…_

…_to get to where she was?_

Shut up. Both of you. Stop talking to me like you're a…

_What?_

They asked together.

And he answered.

Like you're a Hollow.

"Abarai-kun?"

He came about. Before him, Unohana Retsu studied Renji commiseratively.

"Why are you here? Commander Yamamoto specifically ordered against unauthorized personnel from entering this compound. We were both there when he said it."

"Captain Unohana," he spoke, surprised. "Did you just get here?"

"Yes," and she touched her long black braid, elegant fingers stroking along its length in what for anyone less might have been a nervous habit. "There were matters I had to attend to. And did no one ever tell you it is rude to answer a question with a question? I'll put it to you again: why are you here?"

The answer became quite obvious.

"I needed to talk to you."

Impulsively, Renji reached out and took her by the arm, leading Retsu away from the opening to that room. If she was taken aback by his presumption, the ancient soul gave no sign. And really, he could hardly believe he had dared to touch the captain's person himself. But somehow it had dawned upon him that he did not want her to have to see that disgrace any sooner than was necessary. Perhaps it was odd to feel so proprietary towards his superior officer and a woman far older and more powerful than himself. At the same time, though, a part of him knew there was nothing else he could have done, without betraying his own sensibilities.

When they were sufficiently around the bend of the colossal pillar so that no one could see them, he got right to the point.

"Captain, the first time we met, you told me that the battle I had been in might have affected my soul somehow. Can you tell me exactly what you meant by that?"

She stared at him out of dark blue eyes and a face that by all rights should have belonged to a woman his own age, if not younger.

Then Unohana looked down, to where Renji's hand was still on her arm, before glancing up at him inquiringly through her lashes.

"If anyone were to see us right now, Abarai-kun, they might get the wrong idea."

The realization of this caused him to flush, but just as he was about to remove the offending appendage, she swiftly reached up and laid her own hand over his.

"Before I answer you, please tell me this: why are you suddenly concerned over what happened so long ago?"

It was just a little hard to concentrate on anything but the feel of her skin touching his once again. His mind was drifting back to the time she had been tending to his injuries, sponging down his body, both soothing and frightening him with her words and fingers. There, too, was the memory of a pair of lips that had briefly touched his own.

No, snap out of it, don't go there! This is important!

"I gained ban-kai recently."

"Congratulations," she smiled at him, a gleam in her eye.

"The first time I did it, I was terrified," he continued. "And not just from the surge of power. It's because when I looked at my sword's form, it… well, it made me think of…"

His earnest listener cocked her head curiously. "What?"

Afraid of how she might react but not being able to live without telling someone, Renji finally got it out.

"Contracorriente. The arrancar I killed with Ukitake. My ban-kai looks like she did, when she turned into that dragon-wyrm monster at the end."

They looked at one another for several seconds. At last the elder shinigami said, "Oh. I see."

"And it's not just that!" Renji blurted out. "After that day, my zanpakutō changed, at least in spirit. It started talking to me with two voices. I didn't know what to make of it at first until I went inside it for the first time after that. Before Zabimaru was always more of a snake, but now it looked like a white baboon with a snake for a tail! And it's not just how it looked like in ban-kai! There's more than that. Whenever I bring it out, I gain this mantle over my arms and shoulders that protects me from damage, and on it there's… something…like a _mask_, it almost… looks like a… Hollow's."

He could barely stand to say it, but it was out there now.

"So what you are telling me," the healer goddess spoke gently, "is that you fear you might be part Hollow somehow."

It hurt to hear her imply it, but there was no condemnation in her words.

"Yeah. And I wanted to ask you if you might know anything about stuff like this. I mean, since you are who you are, what do you…"

Unohana Retsu reached up suddenly and touched his face. His voice trailed off.

"Who I am, Renji-kun?"

Light, dry fingers traced over the tattoos on his eyebrows. There was a look of serious introspection in her eyes now.

"Do you mean as a captain of the Seireitei, a warrior who has lived for thousands of years and seen much that there is to know about combat between Hollows and shinigami? Or more as a healer, who has been faced with every conceivable torment that a body and soul can withstand?"

This close, Renji realized that he could smell her skin, and found it intoxicating.

"Do you see me as a mother figure to all of you, who looks after and tends to the soldiers under her care like they were her children?"

She traced down the tip of his nose, coming to rest over his mouth, the breath trembling out of his body registering in warm bursts.

"Or perhaps am I more of a woman to you, Renji-kun? A confidante and soulmate whom you can speak to and unburden yourself of those griefs that no one else can be trusted with, not even those people you have known since you were a child?"

There was something more than just a little disturbing about this, and he fidgeted slightly. "Unohana… taichou, I…"

"Will you show it to me?"

Renji blinked. "What?"

"Your ban-kai. Will you show it to me?"

He was gaping at her without fail. "What, here?" The lieutenant glanced about the deserted ring. "_Now?"_

And the ageless beauty smiled at him mischievously.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

The prospect of seeing a legendary ban-kai, whose release was unknown to him or anyone else, certainly had its appeal, he was forced to admit. But somehow…

Renji drew back from her. "Taichou, I can't. Not now."

The temptress lowered her arm. Her face at that moment did not seem quite as loving and gentle as usual.

Unohana then turned and walked slowly away. As he watched her depart, her voice drifted back to him.

"The potential for an inner Hollow exists within every soul who has never known the blessing of a _konsō_. That is what we seek to deny at times, but in truth, it is as much a part of our nature as shinigami powers. One who was born in the world of the living and been beset by its joys and agonies, its temptations and hungers, is susceptible. And only by recognizing that this is not a path we would wish to walk upon can we prevent ourselves from falling into the clutches of our less gentle sides. Everyone from the living world can succumb to being a Hollow, but not everyone can be a shinigami. Our souls hold the potential for absolute forgiveness, Renji Abarai. It is our greatest strength, a gift to be cherished and used without fail."

The female captain stopped and turned her head slightly to regard him. And Renji was surprised to find there were tears flowing down her cheek.

"You have striven for years to become stronger. That is part of what I love about you so, my dear. If you should find that not all your strength comes from virtue, all I ask is that you do not hate yourself for it. For I certainly do not."

She left him there, staring dumbly after her, and proceeded into the Underground Assembly Hall to help clean up the remains of the dead.

* * *

"Ojousama," the majordomo spoke slowly, looking more uncomfortable than she had ever known him, "This is highly irregular. No precedents exist that would justify such an endeavor on the part of our house. With your brother still indisposed, I cannot permit…"

"Forgive me," Rukia lifted her head while continuing to stroke the cat curled up in her lap, "but are you attempting to dictate to me as if I were your servant?"

The old man's face grew still. For a moment, those still-bright eyes gleamed out at her from the depths of his wrinkled sockets.

Is that your best impersonation of Gin Ichimaru, old-timer? Trust me, you're nothing compared to the original. I have no fear to spare on the likes of _you_ anymore.

This is what she thought. Out loud, all the wealthy heiress said was, "Well?"

Sitting in her brother's office in Kuchiki manor, Rukia regarded the elderly retainer from her seat behind a low mahogany desk. She had granted him permission to sit in her presence, only because she had not wished to antagonize this potentially helpful seneschal without cause. Of course, that was ten minutes ago, before he had attempted to patronize her like some spoiled little rich girl. She continued to regard him with a face devoid of any emotion, allowing her noble rank and his low status to do more damage to his mind than any word or expression possibly could.

This was the mark of royalty.

At last, the aged elder knelt before her in utmost subservience.

"No, Lady Kuchiki. Please do not think I mean you disrespect. I would never seek to deny your wishes. It has been my privilege to serve three generations of your house. For the sake of your brother and yourself, I am at your service."

Rukia waited for him to try his next tactic. She knew it would not take long. And sure enough, within a second he was off once more.

"I only meant to point out that your family does not do business directly with the souls beyond the walls of Seireitei. The Kuchiki are preeminent among the nobles, but even so, it would not be deemed proper of us to undertake such a prodigious exertion, especially with things the way they stand. After the sudden loss of government, were we to attempt such a drastic and widespread venture, it might be looked upon as a prelude to seizing power, establishing ourselves as a force of law within Soul Society. I would not dream of curtailing your ambitions, but perhaps it would be best to allow some time and think through our options before engaging in any… speculative efforts."

_Take him down a notch._

Dressed in ivory-colored robes with embroidered silver-thread cranes, her hair artfully coiffed and held in place by jeweled pins, the lady of the manor said, "You first met me back in the Academy, correct, jiisan? There was no contact between us before then, am I right?"

Obviously graybeard recognized that he was still in dangerous territory, even more so since he was discussing her background. They both knew very well just where Rukia had lived the first one-hundred years of her life. But to ask him to admit to it like this was causing the majordomo some distress, if the movement of his flapping throat was any indication.

"There was not, my Lady."

She scratched behind the dozing kitty's ears, feeling it shiver with pleasure as she did so. "Then you never really had cause to see the conditions in which I grew up. And since, according to Niisama, you yourself were never a shinigami, you have no firsthand knowledge of what I endured while undergoing my training, do you?"

"No, my Lady."

He was clearly trying to figure out where this line of talk was going. Best spell it out for him.

"I have seen the state of affairs that holds sway in the Outer Rings. It is still fresh in my memory. And viewing it from my current position, I believe that something needs to be done. Now, when I speak of my position, I do not simply mean my place as your mistress and the current head of this family. I am also referring to myself as a death god. A warrior, and a soldier."

"Therefore," she continued, "I feel confident when I tell you that in terms of a military standpoint, the state of affairs in the Rukongai cannot be allowed to remain as they are. If, as Captain Yamamoto suspects, Aizen Sōsuke intends to conquer Soul Society with an army of Hollows, should he indeed lead an invasion, then the inhabitants of that plane, from Jiyunrinan to Zaraki, would be nothing more than food for those fallen spirits. The available data of just what kind of force the traitor could muster is pitifully sparse, but to assume he could gather even half the current strength of the Gotei 13, it would constitute a massacre."

Rukia locked eyes with her servant then, keeping him held with her words and reiatsu. The majordomo shivered from a sudden chill.

"I find myself in a position and possessed of the inclination to avoid something so vile. Already I have spoken to representatives of the Fourth in regards to logistics, the Second in terms of construction, and the Kidō Corps to determine transportation. I outlined my ideas to all of them, and they assured me that while it was indeed an ambitious project, it could be accomplished within the appointed time. However, rather than go directly through Gotei channels, which would demand I seek approval from the Commander-General now, I have decided to launch this enterprise under the auspices of the House of Kuchiki. We have the capabilities for contracting out all labor, with only light supervisory help from the shinigami divisions, if even that. It is within our power in terms of funding and resources, as well as contacts. In this way, we can see to the safety of every soul living under our protection. That is what I intend for the Kuchiki to accomplish."

She settled back and regarded him closely. "Will you aid me in seeing this dream become reality?"

Rukia had expected him to at least take a second to respond. Instead she was mildly surprised when the stooped ancient abased himself without fail.

"I will see to making the preparations immediately, my Lady. Before the day is out, I shall enlist the aid of every available force at our disposal. Construction will begin by week's end. I give you my word, I shall not fail this house."

That last sentence could be taken in many different ways, but she chose to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Report to me as soon as you have made progress. I wish to take a direct hand in this matter always."

Her own way of speaking around the subject. Don't try to yank me around on this, you old fossil. I've lived here long enough to know how things work. Money talks, and we've got enough to have everybody in the land of the dead babbling like idiots. Show everyone what the Kuchiki are capable of accomplishing.

A nod of her head gave the majordomo permission to withdraw. He scooted out backwards, doubled over at the waist. That he now intended to try and contact Byakuya to inform him of what was going on was almost a certainty. But in spite of this, she knew the old man would remain true to his word. That is, until he received a contradictory command from her elder brother. Now more than ever, Rukia regretted not having been to visit the Sixth squad captain since his transfer to the hospital. Granted, the reports indicated that he remained in a fragile state, but all the same, it might have been good to at least give him a heads-up as to what his sister and temporary replacement as clan head intended to do.

With a sigh, the determined young woman got back to the business of running the grandest house in all the afterlife. She opened scrolls and packets from various acquaintances, some imperative, but most simply tedious. Judging by the sheer volume of treatises and correspondence that the clan head apparently had to deal with on a daily basis, it was small wonder she had never seen much of Byakuya in her days at the manor. In addition, this served to explain at least a little of his characteristic dismal demeanor.

However, his adopted sister remained undaunted. Mere paperwork and social introductions were not enough to cow her, not after what she had experienced in the last few decades, to say nothing of the last few days. Since taking up the momentarily vacant post, Rukia had performed with what she felt was exemplary grace and fortitude. She had settled a dispute between two minor dignitaries, arranged for a complete accounting of all the Kuchiki holdings and estates, and even attended the wedding of some of Byakuya's distant relations. In truth, the experience of running the roost was doing her some good. Certainly it was an improvement over being locked in a cell awaiting death.

At that thought, something she had been deliberately avoiding resurfaced. In her defense, there had been much to do of late. But just after Sode no Shirayuki had contacted her again, Rukia had found herself so overjoyed to visit her guardian spirit's abode once more that she had been willing to agree to anything it might ask of her.

And the zanpakutō had taken full advantage of that.

_Go to them_, the dancing spirit had declared. _Tell them you're sorry. Let them forgive you, if they can. Just stop running from this. That's all I ask._

She had known automatically what those words meant. The thought of doing so and what it must involve almost caused her determination to quail, even more than when Ichimaru himself had taunted her hanging over empty space on the way to her death sentence.

_If you were willing to die to atone for it, then you must be willing to ask for forgiveness. Doesn't that sound much easier?_

Easier? Of course. More painful?

Definitely.

But she had made the decision to do this already. On the verge of death, Rukia had said goodbye, to her loved ones, and herself. From out of that horrifying event a new resolve had been born. If she was going to continue living, it would be in a way that made the best of it.

And so she must face the Shiba clan once again.

The nameless cat leapt to the floor as she rose and moved over to a wardrobe in the corner. It was here that she had been told Byakuya kept information regarding any disgraced or cast-out families. She could have asked Ichigo or one of the others, but decided against it. This was something she had to do on her own.

Kneeling to open the bottom drawer, at first glance what sprang out was a set of robes folded in on themselves. The first one she withdrew was orange with the cranes of their house in shiny black detail. It looked to be about half her brother's size. Was it something he had worn as a child? She had certainly never seen him in such a style of dress. It was of superlative design, really. On the inside of its back there was a symbol involving stars that struck a faint chord. Her feline familiar had padded up and peered at it, sniffing curiously. A stroke along its back made the animal purr appreciatively, and she then proceeded to withdraw the cloth in search of her true objective. Another kimono lay below that one, with the same design, only in yellow and gray, with another unfamiliar embroidered maker's symbol. Finally she came upon one that was green and white. This time she recognized the mark within as that belonging to the Shiba clan.

Lifting it out, Rukia noticed at the bottom of this pile there was a plain white robe. This one had something tucked inside it, though, perhaps the length of her forearm. She brought out the bundle of fabric and examined it curiously.

Rukia felt the cat nuzzle against her knee, and reached down without looking to run her hands through its fur.

What's inside here, anywa…?

Hmm. Funny.

Was the kitty's hair always so long?

"Ahhh, that feels good."

Rukia froze. The breath caught in her throat.

She looked down.

Golden eyes stared back at her, and one of them winked.

"Think you could scratch behind my ear, Rukia? I love it when you do that."

The naked woman then shut her eyes and settled her head in Rukia's lap with a sigh.

_Oh…oh my…that's a first._

Springing away, the royal maiden lost her center of balance and promptly landed flat on her back.

For a moment there were stars dancing before her eyes, and all she could do was gaze spellbound at the ceiling. Breathe in, and out.

Then the brown-skinned woman crawled over and looked down at her.

"Did you hit your head?"

Kuchiki sat up swiftly then, intending to put herself in a better position. However, all this did was bring her nose-to-nose with this smolderingly attractive and (yes, she was right the first time) completely nude human female.

They both sat there for a few moments, looking at each other.

Then the woman grinned.

And leaning in, she placed a kiss on Rukia's cheek.

This socially acceptable practice lost some of its innocence when it proceeded to last somewhat longer than a mere peck on the cheek should. As this realization was just coming about, the brazen lady drew back, ran a hand through her hair, and laughed cheerfully.

At this moment, something clicked.

I've seen this person before. Outside the Repentance Cell. She challenged Byakuya and won. Her name is…

Ummm…

Help?

_Warm. Soft… What? Sorry, I was distracted there. What was the question again?_

"Yoruichi."

The dumbstruck damsel blinked, bringing herself back to reality.

"I… I beg your pardon?"

"You looked like you were trying to remember my name. It's Yoruichi. Shihoin Yoruichi."

Rukia stared at the purple-haired vixen before her. Since her brain was already striving to connect the dots in terms of names, it suddenly made a bold leap to another pocket of memory. One labeled, 'Shihoin'.

The first word that sprang out was, 'royalty'.

The second failed to come, because Rukia bowed down so fast she banged her head against the floor.

Coming up, she blurted out, "Lady Shihoin, I…!"

Pain registered.

"Ow."

This brought another lyrical laugh from her fellow noble, and at this, Rukia dropped her hand from her forehead and tried her very best to act dignified.

"Lady Shihoin, forgive my discourtesy. I am Kuchiki Rukia. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"Very well done. I applaud your spirit, Lady Kuchiki!" She clapped lightly, and then settled down in a cross-legged position. "But in point of fact, I made your acquaintance quite a while ago."

This time, it only took a second.

"The cat." Rukia breathed. She looked down at her hands, then up again. "The cat in Urahara's shop. It _was_ you!"

"Then and now, always and forever. Yoruichi the prowler, at your service." She made a twirl of her hand, and bowed at the waist, then came up with a flip of her shining hair to regard her unwitting hostess once more.

"It… was you," the tiny shinigami repeated. Her voice had gotten very soft. "Back then, when I almost died on assignment… you're the one who saved me from that… _thing."_

Yoruichi was no longer smiling. She cocked her head and studied the girl, fabulous eyes examining her so intently that Rukia felt to be the one stripped bare, in spite of the layers of clothing she wore.

Then the limber lioness stood up.

"I need to borrow some clothes. Do you mind?"

The older woman waited patiently. After a while, Rukia finally found the strength to nod. As her guest turned away, the diminutive royal brought a hand up to her cheek. This was all happening so fast, it was too much to take in all at once. This was Yoruichi Shihoin, head of a family that was second only to the Kuchiki in terms of power. She was a shinigami captain to boot. And, now that she remembered fully, a condemned traitor to Soul Society, in regards to some fiasco that happened one hundred years ago. This is the person whom I've been carrying around my neck and petting for the last three days, feeding her sushi, letting her sleep next to me in bed, even!

Yoruichi bent over to sift through the small pile of clothes left on the floor. As she did, her head suddenly dropped, and she regarded Rukia steadily from this upside-down position.

"Enjoying the view?"

This comment let the young woman know that she had indeed been staring at the captain's outthrust posterior, and instantly she snapped her head to one side, gazing fixedly at a point on the wall and fighting the blush that was creeping from her face all the way down her neck and, she suspected, over her entire body.

A moment later, there came the sound of cloth rustling, followed by tearing. Unconsciously, Rukia turned back around.

Yoruichi was now sporting the shining orange-and-black robe. However, she had cut off the lower portion from about halfway to her knees on down. The sash was knotted loosely in the middle, and a great deal of skin and cleavage was still prominently on display from the opening. Turning one way, then another, she lifted one well-developed leg back and examined over her shoulder.

"Fits pretty well, considering it's a hundred years old and meant for a boy," the svelte shape-shifter mused aloud. Then craning back to regard Rukia once more, she lifted one hand by way of farewell.

"I'd love to stay and talk to you, but there's something important I just can't put off any longer. I'll be back around suppertime. Tell the chef to fix some spicy fish, we both like that. Later, Kuchiki Rukia!"

There was a flash, and then Rukia was alone in the room.

_Well…she seemed nice. _

No answer came from the blade's wielder.

After a few seconds of indecision, she got to her feet and trotted over to the wardrobe once more. What Yoruichi had said, about putting things off, that had served to remind her of what she had been doing over there in the first place. After a few minutes, the information she wanted finally presented itself in a small black lacquer box. Tucking it off to the side, Rukia then proceeded to return everything to its original place.

As she picked up the folded white robe, however, something seemed off. Then it came to her.

It doesn't weigh as much as before.

Whatever had been inside it was gone.

* * *

"Could you flex your fingers for me, Taichou?"

Byakuya proceeded to do so, and Isane watched him carefully, keeping one hand on his bandaged forearm. She remained alert to any sign of disturbance on his part.

"Is there any lingering pain?"

"No," came the immediate response.

_He would not tell us if there was. The man might be a shining example of nobility, but he is a miserable excuse for a patient._

Lieutenant Kotetsu tried not to sigh out loud. She had been tasked with seeing to the Sixth squad head's recuperation after Unohana declared him out of danger two days back. Truth be told, he had made a remarkable recovery considering his injuries, even owing to the incomparable quality of healing her own captain had bestowed upon him. But it was still hard to attend to someone who barely seemed interested in his own well-being.

Honestly, it was like he had been trying to kill himself.

"Everything seems fine." She drew back and unslung a stethoscope from around her neck. "Now, I'll just check your breathing. If you could… remove your shirt."

He proceeded to do so. The plain hospital gown slid smoothly down past his shoulders, pooling at his elbows. The process only took a few seconds, but in Isane's mind, it lasted much, much longer. Her eyes traveled up and down his pale skin, roaming over muscles and ligaments that were heartbreakingly perfect. It was a shame so much of him was covered by bandages, but in a way, the peeks she was getting of his deltoids and abdominals were all the more enthralling for the knowledge that it was not the full picture. Something to look forward to, in her dreams.

_Would you like me to heat up some saké? Maybe play some romantic music while you ogle this poor half-dead victim? Really, Isane, where are your priorities?_

"In his pants."

_WHAT?_

"I beg your pardon?"

There came a pause.

Itegumo, did I just say that out loud?

Apparently, by the way he was looking at her, the answer must be 'yes'.

A voice in Isane's head that might have been her own began a very loud and prolonged scream. As it did so, she placed the stethoscope against his warm marble back and calmly lied.

"'_Respirants', _Captain. It means 'breaths' in French, by which I meant for you to take several deep breaths. I'm studying the language. If we could proceed? I have other patients to tend to."

Byakuya spoke no more, only complied with her instructions.

_Nicely done. _

Thank you.

_You can breathe now._

In a minute. Wouldn't want to hyperventilate.

Her fingers were agonizingly close to touching his skin, something she had sworn to herself she would not permit, no matter how rare and completely reasonable the opportunity. It was true that doctors often touch their patients. It's only natural. Like in bathing, or checking their temperature. Sometimes they rub down their muscles. Sometimes they even stroke those muscles. Languidly. Sensuously. _Erotically_.

Lieutenant Kotetsu withdrew the device, taking it out of her ears.

"I'm very pleased to tell you that you seem to be recovering nicely, Kuchiki-taichou."

"Glad to hear it!"

Behind her, the door whipped open suddenly, and someone entered the room. Jerking around in shock, Isane only caught a glimpse of something orange and black, purple and gold. Then this something was standing beside the bed, and they seemed to be… Yes, actually, they were definitely hoisting Byakuya Kuchiki over their shoulder. For a moment he and Isane were looking at each other eye-to-eye, and it was difficult to determine which of them appeared more nonplussed by this turn of events.

"I need to borrow your patient for a while. No worries, I'll bring him back in one piece, Isane-dono."

Then the window opened. A rush of air caused the curtains to flutter and her silver braids to whip around her head. Afterwards, Isane found herself to be alone.

Looking around, she gave a short nod. Yes, no doubt in my mind. "Taichou's going to kill me when she learns about this," Isane murmured calmly.

A hand came down on her shoulder.

"Learns about what, Isane-chan?"

The barest whimper escaped her throat.

She then turned about to try and explain to Unohana Retsu something she did not fully comprehend herself.

* * *

"YORUICHI!" Byakuya strove to make himself heard over the wind roaring by. "PUT ME DOWN AT ONCE!"

She only shifted him around on her shoulder, racing at shunpō-speed through a world that was reduced to blurred streaks in his vision.

"Oh, calm down. We're almost there."

Her seething baggage was forced to content himself with this. Words never had much effect on Yoruichi, and at the current time he was rather incapable of responding with anything else. He knew for a fact that his legs were still unable to bear his weight, so there was no chance of outrunning her. In addition, his death god power remained at a pitifully weak level. This meant kidō spells were unlikely to do much good, along with calling upon Senbonzakura to try and get him out of this.

On top of that, something told Byakuya that, for all her appearance of being lighthearted, now was not the time to try and mess with the flash goddess.

You do not piss off sensei.

If something was important, you remembered it. And that was one lesson he had never been in danger of forgetting, not in a hundred years, nor a hundred thousand. So he allowed himself to go limp, letting his eyes travel downwards. In spite of his depleted state, he was pleased to note that he was still able to pick out some distinction in her racing legs. That was good. It meant that his perceptions were returning to normal. For a while there, everything had been painfully slow. He suspected from the first day that the healer lieutenant had used her zanpakutō's abilities to slow down the reiatsu pace of his body, allowing him to recuperate at a safer pace. It was understandable, but galling, nonetheless.

While he was considering the latest indignity to be foisted off on him, they drew to a halt. Byakuya then found himself deposited gently under the boughs of a white birch tree in a forest, still dressed in the hospital gown. Before him stood his former master and lover, attired only in a spare robe that it took him a moment to recognize was a ceremonial garment he had worn in his youth when entertaining the Shihoin family. Having robes made in the color of your allies was a custom his great-grandfather had introduced, and as a result, his wardrobe was…

"You look like hell, Byakuya-bozu."

His pride flared. Arranging his limbs into a more presentable position, the son of royalty adopted a semblance of cool dignity. "Perhaps now would be the proper time to point out to you that such foolish mockery is no longer acceptable between us. I am Lord of the Kuchiki. In spite of what befell you a century ago, you remain a noblewoman. I will thank you to conduct yourself as such."

He drew himself up, steel-grey eyes locking with the cat goddess' golden orbs.

Yoruichi regarded him steadily, arms laced over her chest.

"Are you finished?"

Kuchiki gave a lift of his head. "I am."

"Good. Then let's get one thing straight here."

Without warning her foot shot out and connected with his throat, pinning him against the tree. Gagging, Byakuya brought his hands up and tried to force the obstruction away. However, though he strove to his utmost, the rock-hard limb did not give an inch.

Looking up at her, he froze at the unforgettable sight of wrath that shone clearly on his sensei's face.

"You disgraced yourself, Byakuya Kuchiki," she spoke in murmuring remonstrance. "You allowed yourself and the ones under your protection to become the victims of evil men. I don't know what excuse you invented to preempt you from doing what needed to be done, but it was worthless, whatever it was. As a result, you worked every day for the last fifty years side-by-side with the monster who arranged the torture and mutilation of several of your fellow captains. Did you never stop to consider that?"

She applied a little more pressure with her foot before leaning back to allow him to breathe. Teeth gritted, her former student glared up at her, hair falling in his eyes, striving unsuccessfully but unrepentantly to push her back.

"I do not have to explain myself to anyone! Not even you, Yoruichi!" Byakuya snapped. Long ago, she had taught him to never let his anger blind him to any opportunities or truths. But right now, he was too tired to care about the benefits of that teaching. "I remained here in this world, trying to keep it from falling apart, while _you_ fled with that heedless laughing fool who thought himself superior to everyone because there was nothing he would not countenance! You think I did not know what Gin Ichimaru, Kaname Tosen, and even Aizen Sōsuke were? Even Kenpachi Zaraki recognized those two as threats! And as for their master, I never forgot who it was that testified against the man you chose to risk your life for! Did you think I would take _his_ word over _yours?_ Do you think I was not prepared to strike every one of them down if I had the slightest proof of their treachery?"

She pulled away then, and he took a good lungful of the warm air. Above him, light sparkled from between verdant green leaves, painting a warm mix of sunshine and shadows all over their bodies.

Staring at him, Yoruichi looked as though she were grieving.

"Who weren't you willing to strike down, Byakuya Kuchiki, Captain of the Sixth Squad of the Gotei 13? If you and Kisuke had met in the mortal world, and Yamamoto commanded you to take his head, would you have done it?"

The way she said the other outlaw's name caused color to rise to his cheeks. Questions and preoccupations that had forever lingered at the back of his mind now sprang to the fore. Were the two sleeping together now? Had they always been, actually? Was that why she had discarded her place as his friend and lover so readily, without a word of farewell? I got a sword out of that deal. What did Kisuke Urahara get of yours, my lady?

He could have said it. But seeing her face now… really _looking_ at it… was starting to affect him in a way that he had not known since…

My wife.

Stirring, the military and royal paragon dropped his eyes, lest the sight of her cause him to speak out of turn.

"Of course I would have killed him. What reason would there be not to?"

Even out of the corner of his eye, he could see her body stiffen.

"He was _innocent_, Byakuya!"

"Yes." His voice sounded humiliatingly weak when he spoke next. "But guilt or innocence would not have had any relevance to my decision. I would _not_ have slain the man whom the Chamber of 46 and Commander-General Yamamoto condemned as a criminal deviant, responsible for conducting Hollowfication experiments on dozens of innocent people. Those charges, true or false, meant nothing to me."

Now he felt himself willing and ready to look back at the lady once more.

The expression on her face was demanding an answer. And so he gave her one.

"But I would have killed the man who took you away from me. Whether it was your choice or not, I hated Kisuke Urahara for being so careless, so ignorant and foolish that the only way for him to be saved was for you to put your own life at risk. I lost the woman I loved on that day, as surely as if you had died."

In the way she looked at him, he saw the first intimation of true pain, and knowing that he had brought it upon her served to unlock his own mingled feelings of shame and self-reproach.

"_That_ was how I dishonored myself, Yoruichi. When you left, I became a void. People poured love and compassion, honors and praise into me. I drank it all in, and wound up empty. To those worthy souls, I gave back only scorn and bitterness. I was a source of misery to my family, and try as they might, nothing could serve to provoke me to change my ways. Everywhere I went, there was only the ceaseless ache of remorse. I was a dead man, my love. For close to fifty years, I was a wound upon the hearts of my loved ones and the world."

"And then I met Hisana."

Even now, the thought brought equal parts joy and bitterness to his heart.

"She made beautiful works of art, and yet she was miserable, Yoruichi. The first time we communicated was through a written sign on a wall. In those words I saw a person who had given up on themselves and was simply waiting for death to take them. And it finally dawned upon me that I had been behaving in precisely the same way, except it was like I was already dead. She had spelled the truth out for me in black and white. Upon witnessing this, I felt something real for the first time since you and I parted. I suppose you could call it compassion. I wanted to _help_ this person. The thought never even occurred to me that by doing so, I could actually help myself. But even if neither of us realized it, as soon as we met, that was precisely what happened. Hisana… she afforded me the respect my name should have endeared. But more than that, she treated me tenderly. As if she recognized that I was injured but refused to admit to it."

He glanced down at the bandages adorning his chest, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. "I suppose some things never change."

His gaze drifted around their sylvan setting, and Byakuya slumped back against the rough white bark. "I asked her to be my wife when I could no longer stand to part from her, even for a night. Her happiness was something I wanted to assure at every given moment. It was like what I felt for you. Having experienced that sensation once before, I could recognize it as love. And so we were wed. It was a sweet solace, one that lasted for five years."

"And then she died."

He looked back at his first love once more. "It was like losing you, my parents, and myself all over again. I could feel her strength giving way, year after year, like some essential part of her soul was deserting her with every passing second. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. Between one moment and the next, before the first sakura blossoms of that year could open, I was deprived of the woman I had fallen in love with, the wife who shared my name, and the reason I had to look forward to every day. In spite of all that she had brought into my life, I had never been able to comfort her the way she had me. Hisana despised herself, all due to a momentary weakness in her past. She would have given up her own life to make amends for that mistake. And I, who could deny her nothing, swore to bring that misery to an end, even if she was not alive to see it."

"I granted my wife's dying wish. And by doing so, I reclaimed my own honor."

Byakuya settled his arm on one upraised knee, closing his eyes. Speaking the truth like this, unburdening himself at long last to someone he could trust, was serving to grant him the most wonderful state of peace. It was of a like he hadn't known in years. Yoruichi spoke not a word, and so he continued.

"Having only recently reclaimed it, I was somewhat careless in its application. I swore on my honor, before the graves of my parents, that I would permit no further shame to befall our family by my actions. I gave my word that I would uphold the laws of Seireitei no matter what it might cost me. I thought that my honor was great enough to bear any burden. All thanks to the people I had loved, it had grown strong. I truly believed that there was nothing and no one who could oppose me then, whether it be Aizen or Yamamoto himself. I was blinded by conceit, Yoruichi, just as you always warned me against. That was why I never realized that the greatest opponent lay not without, but within."

He grimaced at the memory, bringing his fingers up to touch his brow. "When Rukia was sentenced to death, I found my honor to be my enemy. To live with it, I would have to sacrifice the very thing that had made it mine again. You must know that I agonized over this, Yoruichi. But try though I might, I could divine no solution to the problem. In the end, I chose my honor over my pride. I let her go to death. It was I who petitioned the Central 46 to lessen her stay of execution from 35 to 25 days. This was so that she would not have to suffer any longer than was necessary. I even wheedled them into granting her a Sokyōku sentence, so that this way, I would have to be there with her when she died. So that I too could suffer through her final moments. It was the only concession I would allow myself. There seemed to be no other way."

His eyes fluttered open once more, and he watched the dancing cadence of light play between his fingers.

"I should have realized, when I saw you again, that you had come to make clear what I was too ignorant to see. I was defeated from the moment you escaped me on the bridge, I see that now. When your latest student came to challenge me, I never dreamed that he was there acting in your place, striving to open my eyes to the enormity of what I had conceived to allow, through conceit. So many people tried to make me see. I remember now, long ago, how Kaien Shiba sought to explain to me when I asked him how a brother should behave to his sister. He said to me, 'Older brothers are born first, so that they can protect their little sisters'. It seemed like sentimental tripe at the time, of no help to me. But now I understand that even he was trying to teach me a lesson. It simply took a stronger man, to beat that lesson into me."

Light and shadow on the ground. Black and white. For just a second he saw that fiendish blood-stained mask again, black and yellow eyes staring at him with laughter and madness in their depths. Even when faced with such a horror, he had treated it as if this were an honorable duel, asking for its name.

'_You want to know my name?' _it had taunted him gleefully. _'I… don't HAVE A NAME!'_

And true to his word, that boy had proceeded to reveal greater resolve than Byakuya had. First by demonstrating how to crush his own demons, and then going on to crush Byakuya himself.

He whispered the name of the man who had defeated him.

"Kurosaki… Ichigo."

The dejected noble looked up at his audience once more.

Yoruichi wore a mask of impassivity. If she had been affected in any way by his tale, she gave no sign of it. A hangman could not have looked so unforgiving.

"So you admit to everything. Is that the truth, Byakuya?" she said at last. "There's nothing you're hiding from me?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "No. Nothing."

The purple-haired warrior continued to regard him.

And then she said, "You're such a fucking liar."

Reaching into her robe, Yoruichi withdrew something and flung it at Byakuya's feet.

It was a knife.

A plain, unadorned dagger with white cotton bandages wrapped around its hilt.

For a moment he stared at it, uncomprehending.

Then recognition struck home, and the aristocrat's skin went even paler. His blood ran cold. He shot a look filled with shock and outrage up at Yoruichi. She bore it with total aplomb.

"_Where did you get this?" _he shouted at her, face livid. Shame crawled up his throat again, threatening to choke him off. Everything he thought he had come to terms with now erupted forth like a spewing wound. All his failures and mistakes reared their ugly heads once more, and Byakuya Kuchiki found himself squatting in the dirt with tears running down his face.

"I was with Rukia today. She actually came across it, presumably while trying to locate the Shiba clan's new address. You must have thought you were very clever, hiding it in that chest reserved for the discarded paraphernalia of disgraced houses where no servants would think to clean or look." The princess of the Shihoin was speaking in an icy tone, as if he were a peasant that had committed some horrible infraction. It was an absolutely chilling display. "As soon as I saw the robe, I knew your intent. Your scent was still fresh upon them both. I revealed myself to her to keep your sister from finding out just what kind of person her brother really was."

He could stomach that look on her face no further. Byakuya turned his head away, feeling sickened by his own disgrace. On that day, for the first time in his whole life, the proudest noble in the Seireitei knelt on the ground and begged.

"Take it away. Please, Yoruichi, I beg you. It means nothing now. Please, by whatever you felt for me, don't do this."

"It's because of my feelings that I will do this, Byakuya. And that's how you will come to understand them." She moved to squat before him, plucking the knife from the rich soil. The accusing note in her voice did not fade, as she leveled the weapon at his face. "So this is what the great Byakuya Kuchiki finally settled upon as the only way things could possibly turn out. Let that innocent girl, your own wife's sister whom you had vowed to protect, go up to die on that hill like a criminal, then go home and cut your belly open afterwards? Put on the traditional white robe like a good little noble, sit down in seiza to demonstrate remorse, and shove a _knife into your guts?"_

"Please." He had drawn up into a ball, hands wrapped around his head like a child seeking to escape blame. "Please don't. Please."

"You make me _sick_, Byakuya!" she spit at him. "Have you really become that stupid? Did _nothing_ I ever said to you back then actually settle in that thick arrogant skull of yours? When I first met Rukia, I remember thinking how laughable it was that she actually feared you, that she thought you could hurt her! I couldn't imagine a situation where that would happen, knowing you as well as I did. But I guess that made me a fool too, didn't it? Because you _would have _hurt her, wouldn't you? You WOULD HAVE killed her, without hesitation or shedding a tear, because you knew that you would just go home and commit _seppuku _immediately afterwards! Is THAT how you were going to preserve your precious HONOR? You were going to KILL YOURSELF? YOU GODDAMN USELESS…!"

And Yoruichi flung the knife so that it buried itself into the wood a scant inch above his bowed neck.

"_**COWARD**__!"_

Byakuya Kuchiki remained unmoving. He stayed where he was, thinking of nothing, feeling nothing. It was like his brain was shutting down, and taking him into the bliss of oblivion rather than face what this woman knew.

He thought he could feel no more after this. But he was wrong.

For of a sudden, he became aware of two arms coming around him, and a warm body pressing against his own.

"You are such a…d-damned…_fool!_" Yoruichi sobbed, holding onto him tight. Her tears fell into his hair, and she kissed the back of his head lightly, golden eyes flooding over with grief. "I hated you so much when I realized it, I thought I could have killed you. But that would have been pretty stupid too, right? Killing you for wanting to kill yourself." She tried to laugh, but all that came out was a sob. Instead the grief-stricken young woman pressed her face into his hair, letting that soft silken touch remind her of times that they had spent in this very woods, running and playing and laughing, talking, shouting, making love.

"Suicides are so damn arrogant. You place what you're feeling over everybody else. I'd be surprised if you didn't poison Rukia with this idiocy unintentionally, she never did try and save her life, did she? You didn't bother to consider any of the people who would be left behind at all, did you? Not really. Oh, I'm sure you made plans and arrangements, and saw that everyone would be taken care of financially and so forth. But did you never stop to consider how they would _feel?"_

Coming up, Yoruichi took hold of Byakuya's head and raised it until his glistening gray eyes met her own tear-filled ones.

And she kissed him.

Pulling away, the goddess peered concernedly into his face, looking for something no one else could see.

"Did you never think about your grandfather? Did you never even consider me? How I would feel if I learned you were dead? Dammit to hell, Byakuya, I _love you!_ I have been in love with you since the first time you scowled at me and called me a 'were-cat'! Who does that sort of thing to me, anyway? Only you! No one else! They wouldn't have the courage to even think it, much less say it out loud! So having done that, having mocked and taunted and challenged ME for so long without any qualms, how could you possibly do something that would make you so ashamed of yourself that you felt you had to _die_ for it?"

"That's not you," she continued forcefully. "I know you. You are Byakuya Kuchiki, the man I love. Not just Captain Kuchiki, or Lord Kuchiki. That's the person everyone knows. I'm talking about _Byakuya_, the boy who made love to me in a tree! _Byakuya_, who saw a penniless artist tearing her own heart out from grief and splashing it all over the canvas without anyone bothering to recognize it, and proceeded to lift her up and love her and care for her the rest of that girl's life! _Byakuya_, who challenged the laws of his own clan and everyone in Seireitei by adopting that child's sister as his own, defying all customs and taboos for the simple reason that someone he loved had asked him to! That is the man I loved and do love and _will_ love until my heart is no longer my own! You're not just who you think you are! You are whom the people you love _believe_ you to be! That's what love _IS_, don't you understand?"

He looked at her then, absorbing the sight of this fabulous being who had loved him with an enduring passion that lasted a hundred years.

"Yoruichi," Byakuya whispered. His fingers rose and touched her cheek incredulously, as if fearful she might disappear, leaving only her mocking laughter to lead him on the chase once more. "You're… back. My Yoruichi. My love."

"Yes," the speed phantom cupped her hand against his own. "I came back, my beautiful Byakuya. Did you doubt I could? Remember who I am. Nothing's impossible for me."

"I know," he murmured, lost in the sight of her after so long, drinking it in like a man dying of thirst. "I remember everything now."

So saying, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against hers in a heated, trembling, longing kiss.

They came together then, his hands sliding the robe away from her body, while hers sliced apart the bandages and scattering them all about. She lay atop his chest, gently kissing and touching him, careful of his wounds. After a few moments, though, Byakuya made it clear that his injuries would serve as no hindrance, when he grasped her hips and flipped her on her back, making her gasp when he slid over and into his lover's burning body. After all their time apart, it seemed that neither of them could stand to be without the other for a second longer. Yoruichi sobbed now in ecstasy as her beloved pushed with all his might, seeking to be as close together as possible. Her nails raked along his back, drawing faint red lines, making him arch upward and cry out with renewed pleasure. He then dove back in, kissing her neck and shoulders, feeling her breasts crush against him even as her warmth welcomed him in and accepted his offering. The peak of their lovemaking was heralded with a shared cry that was heard by no one but themselves.

Hours later, Byakuya Kuchiki lay with Yoruichi Shihoin nestled dreaming in his embrace. In spite of the exhaustion that beset his weary limbs, sleep would not come. He could not bear to miss even a second of feeling her against him once more. Wide awake, the young lord watched the refraction of sunlight off her gleaming hair and skin, seeming to light the world with its warmth and power.

After a little while, a sensation tickled through his chest. Strange yet familiar, he tried to place it. When it finally dawned upon him, the answer seemed so right and sweet that he couldn't help but smile, so big that anyone who knew Byakuya would fail to recognize him.

_Byakuya? What is that?_

This? This is what I missed most, my friend.

Purring.

_To be continued…_


	16. Aftermath: Untrustworthy Intentions

Orihime Inoue cocked her head. "Umm, forgive me for saying this but… you don't look very healthy. What division did you say you were with again?"

Feeling distinctly miserable, Hanatarō Yamada brushed a branch aside and continued moving. "I'm with Squad Four, Inoue-san."

"Oh."

They walked on through the brush. Ahead of them, there came the sounds of something like a wild boar thrashing through the undergrowth. Hanatarō didn't mind, because the noise meant he knew exactly where the other ryoka, Yasutora Sado, could be found. Dealing with this bewildering effervescent maiden was hard enough, but throw in the silent towering behemoth who always made him feel the size of a cockroach? It was almost more than he could stand.

"Aren't those the shinigami who deal with healing?"

He dreaded to think where this conversation might be headed. With her, you never knew.

"Yes, actually, we are."

Please leave it at that, please leave it at that, _please_ leave it at that.

They proceeded a few more steps.

"So you are close to sick people a lot."

Shudder.

"Yes."

More silence.

Then, "I think you might be ill somehow. Do they have influenza in the Soul Society?"

Hanatarō paused with one hand on a tree, the better to weep quietly.

"I don't know, Inoue-san."

"Because I've seen animals around here, and if they have souls, then maybe germs do too. Maybe that last time I used an antiviral tissue, I sent a lot of viruses to heaven, and then they might have gotten together and gotten you sick. Does stuff like that happen, do you know?"

All I know is that I wanted a chance to talk to Rukia-san, so I volunteered when Taichou asked for a non-essential officer from our non-combat-related division to accompany the _ryoka_ in their rounds of the Rukongai, because I knew they were living at Kuchiki manor, and as a result of this simple innocent wish…

_Oh, mercy, she's right! She's RIGHT, Hanatarō ! You're sick, I knew it, didn't I know it?_

I am in my own personal hell.

_This girl has incredible healing powers! From that conclusion, she must have godlike senses regarding illness! You caught something from working down in those sewers, I knew it! Now you're going to die and that means I'M going to die and you've never even kissed a girl yet! I'm too young to fade away!_

Sadly, Yamada listened to his zanpakutō wail and freak out while continuing their walk around the uninhabited woods of the Outer Rukongai. This particular region was usually patrolled by members of the Ninth, whose duty it was to enforce order in the lawless outlying areas of Soul Society. But since that division's being slightly disbanded, their only protection came from a contingent of bodyguards from the Kuchiki. True to form, Orihime proceeded to dispense erstwhile, heartfelt, soul-numbing proclamations about his sickly, un-shinigami-like appearance. And every time she did, his hypochondriac weapon ramped its paranoia up a notch.

"Skin as pasty as yours is usually the sign of a vitamin deficiency. And your hair seems to be very lank and stringy. I think I heard somewhere that vitamin deficiencies also contribute to hair loss. Do you think you could be going bald?"

_What? BALD? Is that fatal? Can someone die from loss of hair? Maybe it's just a symptom of a much worse illness, one that is slowly eating away at your body without you knowing it! Quick, quick, pull up those medical journals, we have to do research before it's too late!_

Quick, quick, find something else for her to talk about!

"Inoue-san," Hanatarō piped up suddenly, "How is Kurosaki-san doing?"

She drew a deep breath and proclaimed, "He's A-OKAY!"

The strength of her conviction (not to mention her reiatsu) caused him to stumble and collide with one of the Kuchiki guardsmen patrolling close by. The look on the man's face made Yamada panic and hastily scoot back towards Orihime, who caught him gently and proceeded to pat him down, as if suspecting injuries from just this light contact. As she did, her conversation stayed rooted on the topic of their mutual friend.

"I've been keeping an eye on him, his wounds have all healed, and he says he's feeling fine now, but all the same, I talked to Rukia, and she agreed that he should remain in convalescence for at least another three days. She said that if necessary, she'll have him chained to the bed to keep him from picking fights with anybody, and with a golden chain to show how much we all care for him. Then of course Kurosaki-kun started yelling about he never picks fights, but Rukia insisted there was a line of guys from the Eleventh who wanted to challenge him and avenge their division since he almost single-handedly wiped them out when we first got into the Court and on top of that the Kenpachi came around yesterday looking for him and Yachiru was running through the halls yelling, it's a good thing Ishida remembered how awful their sense of direction was so he told Zaraki to get to Ichigo's room he'd have to go ten turns right, nine south-by-southwest, twenty-eight paces in a northerly direction as the crow flies, and a lot of other stuff too. It was really long, and by the time he was done Yachiru was asleep and the captain was looking at Uryū like he was an alien with wiggly arms and legs and antennae coming out of his forehead and hey look out!"

Hanatarō was busy enjoying the fact that she seemed to have forgotten about him. As a result of this, he completely failed to note where he was going, and collided face-first into what felt like a brick wall.

"Hey, mister, you okay down there?"

From on his back, the Seventh seat of Squad Four reached up and gingerly touched his nose. Yup, bleeding. Of course.

_Oh no! That means you're a hemophiliac! If you don't seek medical attention soon, all the blood will come pouring out of your nose and stain the front of your robes red and you'll die with the taste of it in your mouth and at your funeral Unohana-taichou will bring you back to life just so she can demote you and you'll have a heart attack and die again!_

Contemplating the sky and his life from this angle, Yamada remembered his captain commenting once on how he tended to forget his zanpakutō at home quite a bit. It would have been too much trouble to explain to her that he never forgot it, he simply couldn't stand listening to the thing hyperventilating in his head twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

While in this condition, a two headed-giant suddenly blotted out the sun, and Hanatarō screamed shrilly.

"Gee, mister, I think you broke the little guy."

Sitting on Sado's shoulders, the orphan Shibata shook his head sadly.

"He's fine," the boy's transport rumbled softly. "I stopped because I heard something, and I must have just concentrated my reiatsu a little too hard. My fault. I was fighting shinigami for days, it seemed, so now I think I'm a little punch-crazy."

With that, Yasutora reached down with one hand the size of Hanatorō's head, gripped the front of his robe and hoisted him upright.

"No, please Sado-san, I'm fine, really, no need to help me… okay, all better now, I'm fine, really, you can let go, just let me sit down for a bit."

When the gargantuan mortal removed his hand, the medic plopped down under a tree on the edge of the glade and began rummaging around in his pack one-handed, using the other to pinch the bridge of his nose while he tilted his head back.

"Are you all right? Would you like for me to heal that?" Orihime asked, bending anxiously over him, her concerned face swaying overhead, not to mention certain other body-parts just as large. Unfortunately, the budding pain in his face was preventing him from even appreciating such a simple pleasure as that.

What is wrong with my life, Hanatarō thought dejectedly?

"Ummm, excuse me, Kuchiki house-people?" Orihime cried. "We have a wounded man here, do you think you could take him back to Seireitei?"

"Really, it's not that bad, you don't have to treat me like a baby, I'll be fine, just give me a minute to…"

"Helloooo, Kuchiki guys?" The bouncy maiden clearly paid his protests no mind, and was now cupping her hands around her mouth in an effort to make herself heard farther.

Before he could make further futile declarations about being of sterner stuff than she gave him credit for, Sado suddenly stood upright, almost losing Shibata in the process.

"Orihime-san… I think you should stop calling now."

She turned a puzzled look upon him. "What? But why?"

The brooding half-breed didn't respond right away. Instead he made a slow circumvention of the area. Finally, he said, "When exactly did you last see any of those Kuchiki bodyguards?"

"Huh?" Inoue blinked. "Right now, Hanatarō-san bumped into one. He's right…" She pointed. "…there?"

In the space indicated, there was no one.

Of a sudden, it became clear that the four of them were standing quite alone in that wood. The silence loomed large now. Not a single branch creaked or bird chirped.

On Chad's shoulder, Shibata looked about in alarm. "Mister, I don't like this. I think we shouldn't have come after all. My family here said these woods are haunted, nobody lives in this place, cuz it's really close to a spot called Hollow's Bog. I know you're all strong, but maybe we really shouldn't be here now."

"Right." The veteran grappler glanced over to his comrade. "Orihime-san, let's get going."

"Okay." Her face was now set and determined, more like a warrior's in truth. Hanatarō was so surprised he forgot to be afraid.

Then, behind Sado, something moved. Facing that direction, Yamada yelped and pointed.

The giant spun, a colored liquid metal emerging from his skin to encase his right arm from shoulder to fingertips. Hot on the heels of this transformation, the princess spoke an incantation, and several small sprites sprang from her hairpins and hovered protectively about everyone in the glade.

Observing all this, their silent opponent bowed forward.

"Good afternoon."

Nemu Kurotsuchi then straightened, gazing upon their party with flat reptilian green eyes.

And at that moment, Hanatarō Yamada had the sneaking suspicion he was about to pee his trousers. Still on the ground, he heard a gasp from Orihime off to his right.

"I remember you," she whispered. "You were with that crazy man, the clown captain who Ishida-san fought. You…" and her voice took on an uncharacteristic edge of steel, "_You killed your own people!"_

Hands clasped before her, bare legs set heel to toe, the lieutenant of the Twelfth company simply looked at her.

"They were sent to accomplish Mayuri-sama's objective. They did so. More could not have been expected."

Chad interposed himself between the two women. Setting Shibata on the ground, who proceeded to hide behind his massive frame, he raised his power-glove and pointed it at the deceptively slim figure across from him. "Why are you here?"

The purple-haired beauty remained stock-still. "By order of our First officer, until such time as the condition of the Ninth has been established, the forces of the Twelfth division are to see to the continued subjugation of this vicinity. I have come to issue an invitation from my master Mayuri Kurotsuchi, captain of the Twelfth and head of the Shinigami Research and Development Bureau. He wishes to extend a hand of friendship to the _ryoka_ now that hostilities between your group and ours have ended. It is Mayuri-sama's wish that you accompany me back to our division's grounds, where you will be his guests and the recipients of his hospitality. Please," and she offered her own hand outward, "Come with me."

What? Since when? Nobody told me about the Twelfth being given any such orders by Commander Yamamoto!

Hanatarō tried to say that, but all that came from the shrinking little shinigami was a high-pitched squeak.

_Yamada, I think your heart's about to explode. Can you try to calm down?_

Calm? You're asking me to stay calm at a time like _this?_ She scares me bad enough when she's just standing in the same room as me, and now I'm supposed to go with her to her crazy father's lab and let him experiment on me?

_Actually, I didn't hear her extend you an invitation. She only included the ryoka. My guess is you and the kid are going to be 'disappeared' just like all those bodyguards that faded into the woodwork. Say, are you running a fever now?_

"No."

That was Yasutora speaking again, in his infuriatingly calm voice.

"I don't know you, but I trust Orihime-san's opinion. Thanks for the offer, but I don't think we're going anywhere to meet your master or whatever."

As he spoke, the reiatsu level in that wood changed suddenly. Looking around, the sprawled surgeon felt his heart soar for an instant to see them now ringed by a platoon of shinigami. A moment later, however, that organ went crashing down into his pelvis and stayed there, when he recognized several of them as being from the Twelfth, which most likely meant they were now completely surrounded.

Nemu was speaking once more.

"My orders included a subdirectory in case you chose to decline. My master is eager to meet with you both, and he has no wish to waste further time. If you do not consent to his request, I have been instructed to bring you to him by any means and in whatever condition excluding death that is necessary."

A second later, what had seemed like an absolutely nightmarish scenario just got worse.

"_Bloom for Master, Aka-chan_."

With those words, Kurotsuchi produced the handle of a sword from inside her sleeve. But instead of a saber, what sprouted from its haft looked to be a long red and black whip, which continued to slide from the deadpan demon's arm like it was growing out of her. More reiatsu than everyone else there combined suddenly slithered over their senses like a tide of blood lapping at their ankles.

Suddenly the whip-wielder flicked her weapon out, bringing it back and catching its coils in her other hand faster than Yamada's eyes could follow. There came a low groan from off to the side, and then a tree trunk thicker than a Gate Guardian's arm began to slide slowly away from them, its leaves and branches making a rattling whisper against its mates before the whole thing simply smashed to the forest floor, cut down with surgical precision.

While they watched this display, Nemu took a stately step forward. "It is at my discretion to determine how many pieces you arrive in. Please do not be alarmed, you can be put back together at Mayuri-sama's leisure. As for Orihime Inoue, my master wishes you to know that his interest in you remains undiminished, and the previous offer he made still stands. Now that this has been said, you will kindly follow me."

The other shinigami present had drawn their swords, some of them going into release like their commander. In response, Orihime and Chad stood back to back, her flinging up her arms to produce a shield around all four of them, him drawing up a remarkable amount of destructive energy in his clenched fist. The denizens of the Twelfth seemed to grow nervous at this display, casting anxious looks over at the lieutenant. For her part, Nemu seemed not at all disturbed by the pair's heroics. Instead her zanpakutō was slithering and snapping eagerly from one side to another, and she began a slow advance upon their position.

Caught between these warring parties, Hanatarō panicked.

Noooo, I don't wanna be caught in another free-for-all! It's a minor miracle that I came out of the last one intact! Is that it? Has my luck finally run out? I was set upon by the Eleventh, crushed with just a look by their captain, and then almost eviscerated by Rukia Kuchiki's demonic older brother. Has fate now decided it's my turn to truly bleed in earnest?

_See? I told you we were going to die today. Was I right or was I right?_

NOOOOOO!

"OOOOOOI!"

This shout echoed amongst the living columns and set the leaves a-trembling.

"What's all this now?"

Realizing that he had been cowering with his head in his hands, the trembling healer raised his head to see what new torments the universe had in store for him.

As it turned out, torment was quite hot.

Striding into the open area there came none other than Matsumoto Rangiku, the Tenth squad lieutenant. He recognized her from having made brief eye contact several years ago, when he had been roped into serving drinks at a wake for one of the previously deceased lieutenants of her division. Bright blue eyes that normally abounded with mischief and good humor were now narrowed mistrustfully. Under the voluptuous officer's glare, the already-rattled death gods visibly quailed.

Strolling casually past the _ryoka_, the Second seat came face-to-face with her counterpart.

"Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou, would you care to explain what this is all about? Why are members of your division seemingly assaulting our blessed young saviors over here?"

No mention was made yet about a seated officer having her shikai bared at that time. On the other hand, Nemu made no attempt at sheathing or hiding it, only spoke in her cold efficient monotone once more.

"Mayuri-taichou wishes to converse with the _ryoka_ this evening. I was sent to extend his invitation to them."

By this time, the air was thick with potent reiatsu, all of it emanating from the fiendishly attractive pair of females chatting amiably at the center of the glade.

"Ah, well, that's a pity," Matsumoto sighed, running a hand through her shining locks. "Because you see, my own captain recovered from his ordeal completely about half an hour ago. And when he did, the Commander-General placed the execution of the Ninth's duties in our hands."

Murmurs came from the assembled mob, and several of them cast anxious glances about. Nemu, however, gave no signs of relenting.

"I know, I know," her opponent sighed. "What a pain, right? Like we don't have enough on our plate as it is! But considering the state of affairs, we all have our duties to carry out, am I right? And so, I'm going to have to ask all members of the Twelfth to vacate the premises immediately."

At this, the daughter of Mayuri Kurotsuchi tilted her head to one side, almost as if she were listening to some inner diatribe with that same stoic expression on her face. About ten seconds later, she came back up.

"As you say, Matsumoto-fukutaichou. We will depart." At a gesture, the surrounding horde of black-clad fighters melted away into the shadows of the forest. "But as for the ryoka, my captain's orders still stand. I will accompany them back to the Seireitei."

She took a step forward, and as she did, Rangiku reached out and seized the girl's forearm.

"No, you won't, little sister," the older woman spoke gently.

Nemu did not so much as look at her smiling assailant, but the lash that still rested in one hand began to wind around like a screw being driven into bloody flesh.

"It is Mayuri-sama's order."

The blonde only chuckled and hung her head.

"Oh, Nemu-chan, Nemu-chan. What would your Neesan think if she saw you right now?"

For the first time since this fiasco started, something that could have been emotion passed over the scientific marvel's face, if only for a brief instant.

"And in addition to that, what would the Commander-General have to say about it? For a certain, all those sleeping Kuchiki boys I passed on my way over probably couldn't tell anybody what happened here. And maybe this cute little kid would have disappeared somewhere between here and your offices. But the fact of the matter is, _I'm_ here now, Nemu-san. And I don't disappear easily, not from memory or the world. So with that being said, I think I'll show these kids the way home. Don't you agree that sounds like much less of a bother all around?"

Hanatarō held his breath. From the looks of it, he wasn't the only one.

Nemu Kurotsuchi stared hard at her quarry. Chad's eyes were pretty much covered by a thick fall of curly hair, so it was difficult to determine what he might be feeling besides, well, determination. But in Orihime's case, her vision was unobstructed, and the look she cast back at the green-eyed assassin held no fear. Only a boundless faith in her friends and her beliefs that nothing could shake. As if to emphasize this surety, the colorful fairies that continued to hover around her blazed with an orange glow that made it seem like a tiny solar system had settled into their shadowy environs.

Faced with this single-minded determination that was a match for her own, Nemu Kurotsuchi slowly held up her weapon. The lines retracted back into their fount, returning to their source that flowed uninterrupted through her bloodstream. She bowed then, leapt straight up into the air, and disappeared.

With a sigh of relief, Inoue dropped her shield and trotted over to confront their rescuer. "Thank you very much for helping us. I'm Orihime Inoue! It's a good thing you decided to show up when you did, or…"

Before more could be said, Rangiku held up a finger to the other girl's soft lips. Orihime blinked and, for once, seemed to have nothing to say.

"I'm glad to make your acquaintance too, sweetie. But I think we should really get out of here quick. Once Kurotsuchi-taichou realizes that my story about the captain coming around and all that was a load of Hollow dung, he's bound to send Nemu back here, or maybe even make an appearance himself. He doesn't like folks messing up his schemes."

"So you weren't put in charge of this region?" Sado asked as he hoisted Shibata once more on his shoulders.

"Nope," the lush beauty shrugged her shapely shoulders and winked at him, causing Yasutora to color somewhat. "I just happened to be passing by, reminiscing and looking hot as usual. You're lucky I know this area, or I might not have found you in time. But like I said, no time for talk. We need to vamoose outta here and quick."

"The pretty lady's right," Shibata spoke. Rangiku beamed at his compliment and blew him a kiss. "Everybody knows how dangerous these woods are. My aniki told me that a long time ago, a beautiful witch and her evil silver-haired demon used to live somewhere around here."

Oddly, Yamada thought he saw a muscle twitch in the sexy lieutenant's brow. "Actually, sweetness," she cooed in a voice sweet as honey, "_I_ grew up in these parts. Get my drift?"

"Wow. You must be older than you look!"

"_Come again?"_

"Señorita?" Chad shifted and scanned the darkening skies. "Do you think we could leave here now?"

Matsumoto huffed. "Yeah… no sweat, Coppertone. All you kids gather round."

They proceeded to do so. Rangiku then yanked the kerchief from around her neck and whipped it up into the air, closing her eyes and murmuring an incantation. The ribbon suddenly extended out to a remarkable length, twining all around the group and spinning 'til everyone inside was obscured by rose-colored silk. Then it blew away, and where four people had stood, there was now no one at all.

Silence reigned.

"Excuse me?"

Hanatarō Yamada gazed nervously about from his seat under the tree.

"Uh, hello? Lieutenant Matsumoto? I think you… forgot somebody."

As he spoke, a shadow fell over him.

Looking up, he found himself to be under the direct scrutiny of Nemu Kurotsuchi.

While he gaped up at her in horror and disbelief, a black butterfly flew down and landed on the side of her head.

After a time, Nemu spoke."Yes. Yes, Mayuri-sama. I understand. I will remain here as per your orders. As you say, I will find a way to keep myself occupied until further notice."

With that, the hell butterfly fluttered away.

Green eyes continued to stare down into his frightened brown ones without warmth or consideration.

_We're dead. We are so unbelievably dead. She'll pump us full of poison, carve out your rotting organs, and give them to her father as a birthday present. We're DEAD!_

And with that, Hanatarō lost it.

ALL RIGHT, SO WE'RE DEAD! BUT YOU WANNA KNOW SOMETHING? IF I GOTTA GO, I'M GOING OUT HAPPY, DAMMIT!

With that, the daring soul reached up, seized Nemu's face and pulled her down into a fierce kiss into which he poured all his frustration and longing.

Thirty seconds of tongue-wrestling later, he found that he was prepared to die. Drawing back, Hanatarō said without the slightest tremor in his voice, "Do with me what you will."

The emerald-eyed statue stared at him.

Then she reached out, grabbed the front of his robes and ripped them open, baring him from midriff to shoulders. Yamada yelped in surprise, but before he could say anything more, she had flung him to the ground and pounced atop his underdeveloped body.

"W-w-wait, I misspoke, let me explain. What I meant to say was…"

Before he could, however, Nemu tore her shinigami robes open, revealing her smooth well-endowed form in all its naked glory. At the sight, the astonished physician completely lost track of what he had been about to say. And before he could find a substitute topic, his dominatrix swept in, crushed herself to his spindly chest and kissed him once again.

Hanatarō Yamada was not seen again for a week.

* * *

He grunted in thanks, and the servant bowed and left him alone in the steaming hot springs adjourning the main house on the Kuchiki estate.

With utmost relief, Ichigo Kurosaki lowered himself into the water and let out a huge sigh.

Looking about, he took the time to admire the beautiful setting. A low ring of boulders rose up to keep this area secluded from the rest of the bathing pools, while around the whole complex, a high bamboo fence prevented any peeping-Toms from having their way. A small forest of living bamboo lent shade and splendid greenery to the side of the pool farthest away from him. Around the rim, there were also several tiny decorative shrines, a gurgling waterfall, and intricate pebbled walkways made of polished purplish-gray stones.

All in all, it was a helluva lot more impressive than the one in Yoruichi's training compound. Although he had to admit, the instant regeneration of wounds would have been rather nice right now, considering that his were still aching somewhat.

Reaching up gingerly, Ichigo touched the strip of skin where Aizen had all but cut him in half. At the time, he had been in so much pain from all the rest that it hadn't even registered. What had really brought him low was the force of the other man's reiatsu. Even remembering it gave him a twinge of phantom pain along the wound, as if the maniac's aura had seeped into the hole torn out of his body and proceeded to eat away at him like acid.

The air was hot, he was starting to feel drowsy and light-headed, in a good way. There was a scent tickling his nose that seemed familiar, if he could just put his finger on it, maybe…

A shiver of remembered pain stole up his body again.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed out loud, and meant it.

"Ichigo?"

Kurosaki gave a start, flinching and glancing all about. Was somebody else in here? Who was it, that almost sounded like…

"Rukia?"

"I'm in the bath next to yours."

"Oh."

Oh.

There had been oddly little chance to speak with Rukia since his rescue of her five days ago. True to her word, she had refused to thank him for saving her life, at least out loud. Of course, that was nothing unexpected. What came after the villains were put to flight was. Even though she had occupied his thoughts almost constantly for the last month, when the peril had passed, it turned out that he was not a man rushing to save his friend, but apparently, a knight rushing to save his princess. Who would have thought that Rukia would turn out to be royalty? She was so totally naïve about everything, in addition to being shallow, clueless, bossy, opinionated, haughty, high-browed, careless about other peoples' things…

Hmm…

Actually, now that he considered it, he should have realized she was a princess sooner.

"Ichigo, are you awake?"

"What? Yes, I'm awake!" He found that he was scooting his knees to his chest to keep decent, even though the rock wall between them was apparently high enough to prevent any casual perusal from either side.

"Well, you just stopped talking there after saying 'Oh'. Granted, I'm used to that level of conversational brilliance from you, but considering all you've been through, I was worried you might have passed out again."

Bitch. She never changed, always taking every opportunity to insult him, and after everything he had gone through to come to her rescue, facing giants and demons and talking cats, murderous midget girls and solidified spirits, not to mention doing in three days what took normal people a decade to achieve, ban-kai training being one of the most hellish experiences any person could ever…!

"Ichigo, you're starting to worry me."

"Want me to go check on him, Rukia-chan?"

Ichigo bristled. "I don't need anybody to check on me, I'm doing just fine! So you can both cut the…"

huuuuUUUUHHHH?

Leaping upright, Ichigo whirled around, scrambled up the small mountain and stared.

Sitting in the steaming pool, wearing nothing but a thin pink towel wrapped around her tiny frame, Rukia took a sip of saké from her cup and stared curiously right back at him.

The half-naked man sitting beside her smiled and waved.

"Hai, hai!"

The orange-headed death god gaped.

"Wh…ge… bu… Rukia…"

Setting the dish down on a wooden platter floating beside her, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the warm stone.

"You shouldn't peek into the women's bath, Ichigo."

That's true. Yes, that's very true. His own father had taught him that lesson years ago, and while Isshin Kurosaki invariably failed to follow his own sage advice, his firstborn son had chosen to do as he said, not as he did.

However, there were exceptions to every rule.

"Rukia, what the hell are you doing sitting there naked drinking saké?"

She flicked one eye open and trained it on him.

"I'm not naked, I have a towel on. And this is a saké bath. It's good for your skin, and it helps you to relax. Why shouldn't I drink while in here?"

Come to think of it, that intoxicating scent in the air was warm alcohol, he knew it from when his father liked to heat up plum brandy on the stove, the aroma filled the whole house and made you feel relaxed and ha…

Ichigo came back to reality with savage swiftness.

"What I meant was," he gritted from between clenched jaws, "why are you sitting there naked drinking saké with a _guy?"_

"Who, Yumichika-san?" She glanced over at the smiling bob-haired pretty-boy on her left, then returned her attention to him. "He's like a brother to me."

"Actually, with my looks, I have been mistaken for a young Byakuya Kuchiki in the past." The slender yet muscular male crossed his hands behind his head and sank deeper into the pool with a contented sigh. His eyes drifted over to Ichigo's bright-red face, and he grinned. "Would you care to join us, Master Kurosaki?"

Rukia cocked a look back at him. "That would be…"

"_Ina-p-p-propriate_!" Ichigo thundered.

"Why?" Ayasegawa raised a feathered eyebrow. "Didn't you tell me that the two of you slept together, Rukia-chan?"

Whereas Ichigo had gone several more shades of pale than could allow for coherent thinking, Rukia glowered at her fighting instructor darkly. "I said we slept in the same room. It was only due to your perverted sensibilities that you took that to mean carnal relations."

"Yes, carnal relations, I know them well!" A second later Yumichika yelped when his student punched him in the arm. He nursed the spot gingerly, giving her a comically aggrieved look. "Ah, but it seems I've offended our dear Rukia-chan. I shall leave you two to enjoy your separate yet equal baths for a while as I attempt to scrounge up some more of that choice Kuchiki liquor, in the hopes that by bearing back gifts I can once more charm my way into the lady's good graces!"

"Not that you were ever in them to begin with," she retorted back as he rose up. Ichigo jumped, but realized a moment later that Yumichika was indeed wearing a towel to hide his modesty, although it was rather short and suspiciously similar to his skin color.

With a flick of his damp shining hair, the handsome fighter then stepped lightly out of the pool, picked up a bathrobe and exited the bathing area.

They both watched him go, and then turned back to one another. After a bit, Ichigo realized that even this could easily be considered indecent on his part, peering at a girl in the bath, and he quickly slid back down the rocks and landed once more in the men's side with a splash.

Neither of them spoke for a while. In the quiet time allowed him, it dawned upon the substitute shinigami that he actually knew that person from before. This was Ikkaku Madarame's compatriot, the weird one who had chased Ganju all around the Seireitei and later on helped Zaraki Kenpachi rescue his fellow _ryoka_ from prison. And this person knew Rukia, and was even permitted to _bathe_ with her?

Come to think of it, while he had never given any consideration to the topic before, considering that Yumichika character's looks, personality, and style of dress, it was a pretty sure bet that the guy was…

"Gone to sleep again, Ichigo?"

It sounded like she was quietly laughing at him, and this caused him to growl softly to himself.

"I don't usually talk while I'm in the bath, Rukia."

"You've never been able to. I didn't mention this before because it would have been rude, but your bathing chamber back home is pitifully small. Even when living in the Rukongai, I at least had a river to dip into. I felt like a clam in a shell every time I used that thing you called a tub."

"My bathroom is perfectly fine!" Ichigo yelled.

"Keep your voice down, you'll bring the servants," she admonished him slightly.

He was about to respond with another retort concerning wealthy people being unable to live without someone waiting on them, but realized that considering his less-than-harmonious relationship with the staff in this place, the last thing he wanted was to bring anymore of their attention on him. For some reason, whenever nobody else was looking, all the guards would glare at him and make vaguely threatening gestures. He had brought it up with Yoruichi, but she just dismissed it as him being paranoid while licking between her paws. She had then proceeded to tease him with her suddenly naked body. The conversation had stopped soon afterwards.

"Are you satisfied here, Ichigo?"

His train of thought was derailed once again, and he had to adjust to the new course.

"What do you mean?"

Rukia did not speak for a while.

Then, "Are you comfortable living in my home, is what I mean."

Comfortable? Not on your…

Wait. Sensitivity. She never complained about living at my house until a minute ago, after all.

"Yeah. It's nice. Pretty swanky, but as far as comforts go, it's all right."

More silence.

"I see."

Ichigo splashed some water on his face and reached for a bucket filled with soaps. "Yeah, well, you'd better live it up, cuz once we get back to my house, there'll be no silk sheets or milk baths or anything like that to hassle with."

After a while, Rukia said, "I could live with that."

A strawberry-scented shampoo caught his eye. Popping the top, he took a sniff, and found it good. He then proceeded to lather up. "But at the very least, you'll have plenty more time to yourself. Seems like every time I try to find you, some retainer tells me you're busy with house business or something like that."

There came a splash from the other side of the wall. "You know I'm always available for you. Anytime, day or night, you can come to see me. It's the least I owe you for what you've been through."

Slowly, his scrubbing fingers stopped. Head down, the teenager gazed at his faint reflection in the water. "You don't owe me, Rukia. Friends don't have to keep track of debts."

He dunked his head underwater, and came up with a gasp, shaking his orange mane back and forth.

"Really, Ichigo?"

Her voice sounded much closer.

Looking over his shoulder, Ichigo saw Rukia propped up on the wall of stone, her chin resting in one hand. She was watching his wide-eyed expression of shock with a calm, thoughtful mien. As though considering something very important. Abashed, he sat frozen in one place.

Her eyes drifted down over his body, then off to the side.

"If I went back with you, would we remain that? Good friends?"

She sounded strange when she said that last. Almost… sad.

"Yeah." Kurosaki swallowed. "I guess. I dunno." He hesitated, then spoke. "Hey, Rukia, are you all right?"

Rukia just kept looking off into the bamboo woods.

"Of course."

Then she sighed and brushed a hand back through her hair. In that moment, Ichigo was struck by the way her arm moved, the play of light off her gleaming midnight-black tresses, and the slightly melancholy expression on her face.

She's never looked more beautiful.

_What was that, Ichigo?_

WHOA!

Wait, slow down, where did that come from? This is crazy, it's Rukia we're talking about here! Aggravating, artistically-impaired little know-it-all shrimp that she is. We can't say two words to one another without one of us starting a yelling match. Stupid teenage hormones, I can't believe they're still screwing with me even when I'm a spirit! Okay, is everything settled? No more crazy thoughts? Good!

He looked back at her.

She did the same.

And Ichigo turned red.

"Ah!" he leapt up, then remembered his semi-clothed state and dropped down into an odd hunched position. "I think… I'm all clean now, I'm gonna head out." With this, Ichigo began to splash off in that same awkward doubled-over posture.

"But you've only been in the bath for a few minutes, Ichigo," Rukia pointed out.

"Well, poor people don't take as long as rich folks to get clean!"

As soon as he said it, he realized how it sounded. Ichigo froze and looked back.

"Rukia… sorry, that was stupid, I didn't…"

There was no longer anyone atop the wall.

The boy gazed over at it, wondering what to do and what his best options might be. When nothing presented itself as the clear solution, he grew irritated with himself, gave up and stormed out of the bath.

Moving through the changing area, Ichigo almost bumped into Yumichika Ayasegawa carrying a platter of drinks.

"Whoops! Careful now, _ryoka_-bozu."

"Whatever," he muttered, and stormed past.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

He paused, glancing back questioningly.

The other man was looking at him with a serious face devoid of any whimsy.

"Thank you for saving her. I owe you."

Ichigo's brow furrowed. He studied that smooth girlish countenance, trying to find a trace of mockery. When nothing presented itself, he just nodded, and moved off.

Shrugging, Yumichika moved back into the women's bath. Rukia was sitting with her face in her knees against the wall separating them and the men's area. Setting the platter to float in the alcohol, he dropped his robe and moved to join her.

She did not stir at his approach. Sitting down beside her, the Fifth seat of the Eleventh watched his long-time student and friend carefully. After a while, he hazarded to speak.

"So. That was Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Yes," she murmured to her ankles.

He leaned back and stared up at the sky.

"He's more physically fit than I expected."

No response to that.

Yumichika began to toy with the floating drink platter, swirling it around in circles.

"Oi, Rukia-chan."

"Yes?"

"You really lived in that boy's closet for two months?"

Her head turned slightly, and she regarded him out of the corner of one eye.

"Yes."

"And in all that time, he never once tried to pull anything… intimate with you?"

More of her countenance was revealed.

"Of course not. I was his guardian, so to speak. Why?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? The lad's gay."

Rukia stared at him.

After a while, she said, "He's not gay."

And she stood up.

"He's just dumb."

Rukia looked down at Yumichika, and her voice when she spoke next was very soft.

"I suppose that's one thing we have in common."

With that, the tiny princess turned and made her way back into the manor.

Her instructor watched her go, then leaned back with a sigh.

"Ah, children, children," he murmured. "When will we all grow up?"

* * *

The sun was starting to go down.

Rukia had been sitting by Byakuya's bed for almost an hour. It figured. She had finally worked up the nerve to call upon him, and he was fast asleep. This was something of a new experience for her, watching her brother while he slept. Strange to see him so peaceful. Almost smiling, she thought to herself. Wonder how I look while I'm asleep? Was that included in any of the reports he might have received upon her daily comings and goings?

Ridiculous. As if Byakuya would bother to check up on her while she dreamed.

On a nightstand by his bed, there was a selection of 'get-well' gifts, compliments of several prominent people. She had eventually grown curious enough to rifle through them. Right now, Rukia was up to a selection of finely crafted porcelain bottles containing rice liquor marked with the seal of the Eighth division. No doubt Captain Kyōraku's idea of medicine for an injured man. Her own captain's lifelong friend seemed to be under the impression that everyone else in Seireitei shared his inhuman tolerance for alcohol.

Oh well. We all have our vices.

Glancing at her elder's sleeping features, his sister paused contemplatively. Now that she thought of it, Rukia had no idea if Byakuya even cared to drink rice wine in his free time. Certainly she had never seen him hitting the bars with anyone else from the Sixth. The thought made her chuckle slightly.

Removing the cloth and wax stopper tied with wire, she sniffed the brew experimentally. Certainly seemed good. If Nii-sama was into this sort of thing, he would find no fault with this. But even so…

Of a sudden, Rukia realized she was feeling drowsy.

The world was growing dark. This was strange. Usually when you're about to go to sleep, you can feel it, your body starting to settle into a torpid state, the feeling of approaching restfulness in your head becoming distinctly pronounced.

There came a knock upon the door, sharp and insistent.

Rukia rose and moved to answer without question. She opened the shoji screen.

There was no one there. What presented itself before her was not what she had expected. The hall leading into this room ran from left to right, she knew that. But what presented itself to her eyes was a corridor stretching straight out from where she stood, and much farther than could be expected. Very long, and very dark, with black walls and red beams overhead.

She peered down the length of this perplexing design.

Then, off in the distance, something moved.

Concentrating on this perception, gradually it became clearer. Someone was coming down the hall, walking towards them.

Suddenly, Rukia knew who it was, and she almost screamed.

Gin.

Ichimaru Gin.

The insane captain stopped, still a long ways off. He was smiling, always smiling. Of a sudden he slowly raised his arm, pointing at her.

_You! _Gin mouthed the word.

And roared.

Then the monster burst into a run, sprinting down the lane. He was racing towards her, shrieking insanely, howling and frothing, coming closer and closer, fingers pointed at her heart like a sword.

Rukia stood frozen at his approach. It almost seemed like the corridor itself was shrinking and Gin was standing in one place, letting the diminishing passage carry him closer to her. Of a sudden she knew she had to run, get away from here before he could reach her.

Turning, she saw Byakuya still asleep in the bed right behind her.

She stared at his sleeping, tranquil features.

He's helpless.

And he's…

She heard Gin screaming as he came closer.

My Nii-sama. My… _family!_

Rukia spun about, feeling both terrified and exhilarated. She screamed a war-cry herself, and stood barehanded, awaiting that killer's approach.

No kidō spells, no sword. Just my fists against his. Enough to take him on. I'll do it. I'll protect Nii-sama, the way he protected me for so long.

Faster than she had expected, Ichimaru was upon her. He drew his arm back, face twisted and demonic, then brought it chopping down like an axe.

In response, Rukia stepped into her stance, brought her hands up, and parried.

Too late, she realized that she was acting as if she were holding a sword.

I failed. I…

No.

No more. Everything's changed. I've changed. I'll never back down to this sinner, ever again.

I'll find a way. Just like Ichigo. I'll find a way…

The deathblow fell.

… to WIN!

Rukia continued with her previous motion.

And Ichimaru's arm collided with Sode no Shirayuki's edge.

His limb came off, and he howled. Without hesitation, without even asking how or why, she lunged forth and drove the tip of her soul cutter into his mouth.

Gin gasped, and exploded into scraps of paper.

She sat up with a cry.

Rukia remained where she had been, sitting by Byakuya's sickbed.

Glancing down, she was disappointed to find her hands were empty.

And yet, they prickled slightly.

With cold.

At her feet there lay a broken porcelain flask sliced clean in half and a small patch of frozen alcohol. How cold must it have been, to make wine freeze?

_As cold as you need it, girl. It won't be long now, before you and I dance again._

This thought gave her comfort, and feeling braver now than ever in her life, she reached out and touched the cheek of her slumbering brother. Byakuya stirred slightly, but still wore that look of faint joy.

I will make you proud, my Nii-sama.

* * *

Mayuri Kurotsuchi packed up his papers, extinguished the lights and exited his office. He left several experiments running. Passing through the halls of his headquarters, he made his way outside, not acknowledging the sentries who bowed to him.

Loping down the moonlit streets of the Court of Pure Souls, the genius intellect kept his magnificent brain occupied with several different concerns. The fate of certain experiments, plans he had implemented, the condition of the Gotei 13 and its current forces. It occurred to him then that he had not heard from Nemu in about a day. Insolent layabout, he must be sure to teach her a lesson when she finally reared her head.

His senses prickled, and instantly one hand went down to his sword, the other coming up to glow with demon magic.

And something slammed into him from behind, bearing the shinigami captain to the earth hard.

His hands were pinned, and a gag was in his mouth. More than this, his strength seemed to have left him. Poison, he realized, working to suppress his reiatsu. Already his body's defenses were working to neutralize it. Just one more second and…

Just then, a sword drove into his back.

"That's one," a voice hissed.

And again.

"And that's the other."

Stiff with shock, Mayuri could only stare when a bright blade slammed into the ground directly in front of his eyes, allowing him to see his golden gaze reflected back in it. He recognized the weapon immediately.

Leaning in from her place atop him, Soifon whispered into his bronzed ear. "That was intentional, Mayuri-taichou. I didn't have to miss them both. In case you are not quite as quick this evening as usual, I will explain. You have been given a warning. Stop trying to meddle in affairs of state. We are in no way weaker from the loss of three captains, any more than we would be from the loss of four. Know your place. Leave the other divisions, the Quincy, and his friends alone for now. Continue to serve, and we will continue to overlook your less flagrant indiscretions. Good evening."

Her slight weight lifted off him, and a second later, the lord of nightmares rose, trembling with wrath and burning with a need to exact vengeance, only to find himself alone in the alley.

* * *

Hanatarō Yamada came awake and looked blearily around him. Apparently he was lying in a wooden tub, which was packed with what appeared to be ice. The field he lay in was deserted. Most surprising of all, he seemed to be naked. And to top it all off, he felt really, _really_…!

_GYAAAAHHHH! Yamada, look down, look down!_

Confused, he did so. After a bit of staring and pondering, it suddenly dawned upon him that there was a scar running up the side of his belly that hadn't been there before.

Well. That's interesting.

_I can't feel it! I can't feel your appendix anymore! Or your left kidney! They're gone! That crazy sex maniac ransacked your body! _

The junior officer from the Fourth thought about this for a moment. Then he settled back into his bed of ice and closed his eyes.

You know what, Hisagomaru? I'm actually okay with it.

_To be continued…_


	17. Aftermath: Unlikely Allies

The bare-chested teen stepped into his room, lit by the bright swell of light pouring through a window. The strength of the midday sun was such that he could distinguish nothing outside. It left him feeling energized and confident.

Casually he moved towards the source of that brilliant illumination, not even bothering to scrunch his eyes shut. He liked the sensation that he was staring directly into the sun. It's a sign of how far I've really come, he thought absently, rubbing the towel over his atypical orange hairdo, still damp from the bath and now similar to a lion's mane in the way it framed his face. Blazing light refracted off the gleaming pectorals and well-defined washboard abs, a symphony of male perfection, like a well-oiled machine that only he knew how to properly manage to achieve the maximum potential.

Musing upon his own sublime carriage, the young demigod came up to the floor-length windowpane. He paused to study his reflection, considering the proper pose of his brows and intensity in his eyes to bring forth the desired response in all those who lent him their attention. From men, it was only envy and fearful respect. As for the ladies, well…

While these thoughts were distracting him from the celestial splendor outside, suddenly it dawned upon this exceptional soul that there was more available to be viewed than he had previously assumed.

So much more.

At this time of day, the sun was actually sending its piercing rays through the boughs of a magnificent oak tree sprouting outside his window. Almost like a kaleidoscope, he mused, the leaves swirling round and about, golden energy cutting sharp pictures out of the black shadows. But it was not this forest king that drew his eye.

No, indeed. Instead, his gaze settled on the slim figure standing in its highest reach.

Her back was turned to him, feet resting on the tree's slim supple branch, one hand raised to touch the rough bark of its trunk. But as firm and strong as that limb might be, nothing could compare to her. She was wearing a one-piece dress, the type that he knew she preferred and that always made him think of both modesty and temptation, blended like rich cream and milk chocolate drizzled in a bowl and swirled about to form a vortex of sinful allure, requiring only an errant and naughty breeze to lift the skirt and give him access to those places your mother used to warn you about.

Well, not my mother. But you know what I mean.

To his immense pleasure, in this position the bright spotlight shone to reveal in silhouette those curves of her body that normally the dress served to hide, highlighting for his eyes alone through the transparent fabric every majestic curve, smooth and supple, like a fiery mare rearing up against the majestic blue of the sky. I already said majestic, didn't I? Well, it bears repeating. She really is. I could stare at her all day, the young man thought to himself.

At this, suddenly she swept one leg up behind her and bent backwards, arching her foot so high the tips of her toes almost seemed to touch her raven-haired crown. The goddess then dipped down, swiveling in this position until she stood facing him. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, neat teeth separated by the tempting tip of her tongue.

Before he could savor this sight for more than a moment, though, the petite pixie dove off the branch and began to float gently to earth, arms outspread and head held high. She was coming straight toward him, he realized, an immortal from heaven, one whom God himself could only gaze upon and marvel at how He might ever have created something so transcendent, so perfect, so absolutely awe-inspiring. She was asking him without words that he catch her, and so he did, strong arms rising to grasp the fallen angel, his fingers encircling her waist, so small and fragile he almost feared breaking her. Added to this was the more chilling prospect of the divine punishment he might bring down upon his head for daring to touch the alluring goddess in this wholly inappropriate fashion.

But when she opened her lovely lavender eyes and fixed him with them, there was no reproach to be found. Only trust and forgiveness, the type that he had known for the first time when she touched him on that day long ago, so magnificent he could have cried both now and then. The memory, as well as the attendant emotions it roused, served to loose him from the last traces of doubt, and he reached up towards her. In response, the radiant maiden took his hand in her own, encasing it within her refined, elegant touch. And then…

And then she was bending down towards him, the wind causing her hair to rustle in soft silken strands, eyes half-closed, and as he brought his mouth up to her sweetly puckered lips, he whispered the name that had touched his unworthy soul to its core.

"Rukia."

Just a slip away from their meeting, she responded with his own.

"Kon."

Yes.

"Kon!"

Yes!

"KON!"

YES!

"WAKE UP!"

And someone stepped on his head.

"GBLARAAAAGH!"

The pressure lifted, and the outraged plushie toy reared up, already launching into a savage invective.

"_Damn you, Ichigo, you lumbering mess of issues! Do you have any idea what you just COST ME? I WAS SO CLOSE!"_

His lanky landlord only gave Kon a look swimming with typical teenage maladjustment and then stalked further into his room.

"You were moaning in your sleep," he snapped desultorily, plopping down on the bed and stretching. Whether or not Ichigo knew he was mocking Kon with every casual movement of his human body was a question best left unresolved, for both their sakes. "Even if my family's out for the day, you shouldn't get into the habit of doing that anymore. You're just a stuffed animal now that I'm back."

Oh, you don't have to tell me that, Ichigo. I was in paradise, blessed with life and freedom, waiting for my heavenly savior to return to me! "AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN DO THAT!" Wait, what part of that did I say out loud?

As Kon pondered this, a clenched fist dropped from above to crush the irate indigent.

"I thought I told you to shut up," the substitute shinigami murmured with one arm draped over his eyes.

A mod soul's heart suddenly burned with wrath. Straining his cotton fibers to their limit, Kon pushed himself upwards, limbs trembling with the effort, rising off the floor with the brute's fist still weighing down on the back of his head.

"Who do you think you are, denying me my dreams?" the little creature hissed. "They're all I've got now! I spent weeks in an agony of ignorance, never knowing if I might greet my Nee-san again, the only thing serving to offer me some comfort being the bliss of sleep. You could see her every day while you were in Soul Society, but not me! I saw her face wherever I looked! In a store mannequin, on television commercials, and in the faces of women whose windows I peered into!"

Ichigo's head jerked around, his eyes snapping open. "WHAT?"

"That was just to see if you were paying attention," Kon sneered, grasping his keeper's knuckles and heaving them off to the side. Panting, he regained his feet, and the two of them glowered at one another. As if he has any right! "I placed my angel's safety in your hands, and what did you do? Abandon her to the depraved inclinations of a merciless brother and a world that treats peoples' lives as if they're arbitrary!"

"They dropped the charges against her!" Kurosaki spluttered indignantly. "And you didn't see how she's living over there, she's like a queen! Byakuya even swore he would take care of her!"

"_Bya-who? _Isn't that the same guy you said dragged her off to die in the first place? What the hell, Ichigo! One minute they're strapping her into the electric chair, and the next they're throwing her a party, and nothing about that strikes you as _a little bit odd? _How could you leave Rukia in the hands of those murdering shinigami? Did you get one blow to the head too many, or are you really as dumb as she always said you were?"

The kid's hand lashed out, lightning fast, and Kon was hauled up to hang struggling before Ichigo's furious bellowing face.

"_Goddammit, Kon, just shut up!_ How many times do I gotta tell you that she decided to stay there on her own? She's a shinigami too, in case you've forgotten, it's the place where she belongs! This was just a vacation to her!"

At this comment, two soft velvet feet collided with Ichigo's nose. There was nothing but stuffing inside them, but all the same, the force of the impact was driven by both heart, spirit, and a set of legs maxed to the limit by a demented genius. To his surprise, the fifteen-year-old found himself being launched backward, his head cracking against the wall. Reaching up, he rubbed the spot gingerly even as the first real stirrings of pain started to appear.

Just then, Kon grabbed him by the shirt-front and planted himself on Ichigo's stomach.

"I can take your insults towards me," he growled like the lion his body was made to emulate, "but the second you speak a wrong word about Rukia, the gloves are off! Dumb kid, you're so arrogant it's unbelievable! It never occurred to you that she saved more than you and your family's lives. She saved mine! Did you never stop to think that there might be more people who'd like the chance to express their _appreciation?"_

"I saw how you 'express appreciation', Kon." The teen's face still wore that ugly scowl, but his hands remained at his sides for a change. "It's nothing short of criminal. Karin kicked me in the shin my first day back, and I'm afraid to ask why! You're always talking about how nobody shows you any respect. Why don't you try showing respect to others for a change?"

"If I'm going to get a lecture, I'd rather it be from Rukia, carrot-top!"

A pained look passed over the boy's face. "Why aren't you getting this? She CHOSE… to STAY!"

"Peh!" Kon spit. "You're a Cro-Magnon type, so why couldn't you be depended on to act like it? Y'know, just sling Nee-san over your shoulder and carry her back here, to her home, WHERE SHE BELONGS?"

Ichigo looked at him strangely for a moment.

"Belongs how?" he muttered. "Sleeping in my closet and stealing clothes from my sister? Get serious, Kon. She's a princess, and on top of that, she's a shinigami. That last month wasn't just some bureaucratic mix-up, it was the start of a full-fledged war between them and the Hollows. Rukia's got to stay there and prepare for battle, just like all the other death gods. And I'm doing my part here. When the fighting starts, I'll be sure to lend a hand, but don't…"

And picking up the plushie, he dropped him on the ground with a sigh.

"Don't expect to ever see her again, all right?"

Dusting himself off, Kon flicked a disdainful look at his roommate. Then he turned and trotted towards the door.

"Only way that's going to happen is if we leave it up to _you_. I know in my heart that my Nee-san won't forget about her ardent suitor. She'll be back here faster than you know it. And when Rukia does reappear, I for one will not hold back my affection for her!" With practiced ease, he levered himself between the crack in the door and pried it open. "I'm going to raid the fridge. And I'm not going to ask if you want anything while I'm there!"

As the door closed behind him, he heard Ichigo shout, "You don't even have a stomach, you stupid mascot! How can you be hungry?"

Because I know what I'm feeling when I'm feeling it, you bonehead.

Kon thought about making this his parting shot. Unfortunately, he was already well down the hall, and turning back to reopen and shout through the door would take too much time and make it look like he had to think about the response. It was a cool thought, but professional debaters knew when a good thing had passed. Ah, well. I said it in my heart, and that's where Rukia-neesan will have to stay for now. Nothing else matters.

I'll be sure to remember that line for when she comes back, though.

As the yellow doll hopped down the stairs, he wondered, not for the first time, what was befalling his beloved Nee-san in that strange, oppressive, sinister, dangerous, and secretive place that was…

* * *

Soul Society!

'Where waiting for an eternity is not just an exaggeration'!

If the Library of Blessed Soul Histories could be said to have a motto, that would be it. Not for the first time, Nanao Ise wondered how some people could make a simple request that should take no longer than a minute manage to last fifteen. It was an offense to her punctilious and sober sensibilities that she had been forced to read a pamphlet regarding checkout procedures four times now while waiting for the librarian to find the information she wanted. Really, had procedures fallen so far behind in their application since her time at this organization over a century ago? I really must see to asking Captain Ukitake about getting this woman replaced. A desk attendant should not be _I want you to touch his hair when you see him _so indolent in the execution of her duties. Behaving as if I had interrupted something of importance when I took her away from that trashy romance poetry book to ask for _Seriously, just for a second, so we can finally know how it feels, I'm guessing corn silk so smooth _help in locating these records, I could almost _and soft, he's such a dreamboat, I melt when he smiles at me!_ have better luck finding them myself!

As she was thinking this, the dumpy little librarian came out from the back room holding a massive leather-bound book almost as large as she was. Staggering over to the desk, the woman leaned her burden against the counter, then managed to hoist it all the way up, gasping and struggling the whole time. Nanao watched this display with utter dispassion, not offering assistance by any word, gesture, or even a twitch of her eyebrow.

At last this painful procedure was complete, and the assistant glowered at the lieutenant from under a sheen of sweat.

"Here it is, Fukutaichou-_dono!_ Admission papers to the Shinigami Academy for the last 900 years. Will there be anything else?"

"No." And so saying she reached down and, grasping the book's binding one-handed, proceeded to lift the juggernaut up with ease and set it on her shoulder.

"I can take it from here."

Nanao left the woman staring after her with an expression of dumbstruck disbelief.

A few seconds later, the Second seat of Division Eight had found an unoccupied table at the back of the library. Sunlight poured in from windows on three sides of this little alcove. Ise positioned herself on the side of the desk facing the back wall, the better to take advantage of the angle of the sun that was now falling from her right. This way, she also had a good view of the lane leading down to the far end of the room. Given all that had happened recently, the cautious young woman was even less inclined to having anyone sneak up on her from behind.

_Soifon is always doing that. She doesn't know how it makes your heart race. That lady is just too cool!_

Now settled in and assured of some privacy, the diligent historian set about learning what she needed to know.

The most recent was fairly easy to find in terms of dates. After all, his phenomenal graduation time had occurred just two years after she herself had completed the curriculum in what had been considered a remarkably short four years. She was hailed as a genius in terms of spirit power and mental abilities, distinguishing herself especially in kidō. But even the previous title-holder for the Academy's fastest graduation, Kaien Shiba, was blown away by this new recruit. Nanao remembered thinking, after seeing him for the first time, that he hardly looked any older than herself, and she was routinely teased by the playful, cheerful men of the Eighth for her extreme youth and small size. But in spite of that childish body, she had never for a moment thought anyone would try to ridicule this boy.

He would have been sure to hurt them for it.

Graduated 111 years ago. Accepted into the Fifth as Third seat. In the ink portrait accompanying this text, Nanao was not surprised to find he was still smiling. The sight always made her skin crawl.

Ichimaru, Gin.

To her disgust, there was no mention as to where he came from, who if anyone had backed his candidacy to the academy, and how he had arrived.

_It always gave me a thrill whenever he looked at us. If you didn't like him, how come you always looked right back, huh?_

The second was a little more difficult. From some time before Gin's arrival, and there was no fanfare, no cavalcade to mark his entry. He made the Academy grade after three attempts, but there was a note added in about the tests for entry being skewed towards those who could see. Not having distinguished himself particularly, he had refused to attend the official investiture, claiming illness. That was a little strange, considering who was listed as conducting the ceremony that year.

The one who had presided over the graduation rite for this person was also identified as the one responsible for first submitting his name for consideration to the academy. A rather infamous character, actually: Akio Sakezuki, who had been removed from service in the Gotei 13 following an incident involving the murder of both a fellow shinigami and his own wife, a student at the time. Though the charges were dropped as a result of Sakezuki's connections, mistrust about his worth had led to him being taken off active duty and given a position as senior faculty advisor at the Academy.

While it was good to have some information about one of the traitor's backgrounds, Nanao knew it was a hollow _Hollow! That's a pun! _victory. There would be no further information coming from this man. She knew full well how that story ended. It had been the source of one of the Seven Academy Ghost Stories. A grisly business, really, what with Sakezuki having committed suicide one night after gouging out his own eyes. Many were wont to whisper that it was delayed justice. Now, however, she wondered if this was not one of the first murders committed to ensure the security of Aizen's cabal.

Graduated 158 years ago. Accepted into the Fifth, but not as an officer. It was strange to see him with hair so short in the portrait, and even stranger at how his empty eyes appeared almost as creepy as Gin's.

Tōsen, Kaname.

_But he had nice skin. It made me think of caramel, all smooth and yummy. You ever wonder how you would look brown, Nanao?_

Flipping through the pages, Nanao finally located what she had been looking for. Two-hundred and twenty-seven years ago…

She stopped.

Nothing.

Aside from the time of graduation, the text was smudged into illegibility. It looked as if some grease had seeped into the book, marring this and several other pages both before and after it. An accident, probably the result of someone's carelessness in handling the materials.

But even if she were inclined to believe this, there was one thing that seemed entirely too coincidental.

Out of all the blurred ink characters, a handful had been spared. Just enough to leave one name entirely clear and evident for all to see.

Aizen, Sōsuke.

Nothing else. Not where he came from or anything about his past. She knew for a fact that he had been welcomed into the Fifth under Captain Shinji Hirako, rising to be its lieutenant in a little under thirty years.

And that was all.

Disgusted, the purple-eyed brunette slammed the heavy tome shut and dropped her elbows on it with a sigh, massaging her temples. After a little while she stirred, stood up and, grasping the defaced volume once more, began her slow, thoughtful progress back to the main desk.

Nanao passed several people involved in researches of their own. Some of them were collaborating on these topics, ranging from academic concerns to matters of historical precedents. A man and woman caught her eye. They seemed animated in their discussions, and as she watched, the pair of them giggled softly, and the fellow leaned over and placed a hand on his partner's shoulder.

It stirred a memory.

* * *

"_That's quite a stack you have."_

_Nanao blinked and peered up, startled at having been spoken to. People in a library generally tended to respect one's privacy. She came here often to do research, and at rarer times seeking shelter from the ribbing she received on a daily basis from her colleagues at the academy._

_The person standing by her desk was certainly no student. A quick glance said he was young enough, at least in appearance, but no one would mistake those elegant black robes as belonging to anyone but a full-fledged death god. The wardrobe reminded her of proper etiquette, and she hopped off the stack of books she had been sitting on to see over the table's edge and bowed respectfully to him._

"_Shinigami-dono, I'm pleased to be acknowledged by you, sir."_

"_Goodness!" he exclaimed from above her. "Even the members of my own squad don't refer to me by 'dono'. You'll give me a big head talking like that, young lady."_

Nanao, he called you a lady!

_At this, Nanao felt her cheeks warm, and looking up she saw…_

_A lieutenant's armband._

_Now she had gone pale, and stood staring aghast into a pair of pleasant brown eyes peering through a pair of square frames _just like you!_ His features were positively noble, while curly hair made her think of ivy leaves twining up a trellis that an ardent suitor might climb to reach the balcony of his one true love. _

EEEEEK! I'm in love, I'm in love! Ask him if he wants to go out sometime! Come on, hurry up, ask him!

_The impropriety of this thought caused her to fall to the floor for a much more subservient bow, just to keep him from possibly seeing the ridiculous notion in her eyes._

"_Fukutaichou-sama, forgive my indiscretion. I'm not used to speaking with officers, I don't have a clear grasp of the proper forms of address." She had been putting off researching these things for far too long, and now it had come back to bite her! Curse my procrastination!_

"_Then allow me to be of some assistance." Kneeling down, he offered her his hand. Ise glanced up hesitantly, then slowly slipped her tiny fingers into his strong grip. A scent of reiatsu caused her to think of sweet exotic spices as the gentleman helped her to stand and then stood there smiling down at her._

"_In the academy, I was addressed by my classmates as 'Brown Nose', affectionately of course. As for my sempai, they amused themselves by calling me 'De-Grade Curve', a reference to my scholastic merits and what they believed was an appropriate response to those achievements."_

_Was he joking? He certainly sounded like it. What a nice voice._

_The lieutenant cocked his head at the wide-eyed waif. "It hurts when people disdain the things we treasure the most. I hope that no misfortune or poor behavior has caused such a talented person as yourself to seek refuge in the library alone today."_

_Almost guiltily, Nanao turned her face away. Was it really that obvious? _

"_I…I really do like to read, sir."_

"_As do I," he responded in a quiet voice. "It's a pleasure that requires no one's help to experience. A nice hobby, if somewhat lonely at times."_

_She didn't know how to respond to that. This situation was starting to make her feel just a little uncomfortable._

_The shinigami chuckled. "But I can see that you are eager to return to your devotions. I apologize for intruding on your activities. You'll have to excuse me, my captain tells me I'm somewhat of a busybody."_

_She jerked up and quickly blurted out, "No offense taken, sir! And…I didn't think you were a busybody! I'm sure you're a very worthwhile individual, and I hope that maybe someday we can serve together in the Gotei 13!"_

"_That would be most welcome," her fellow bibliophile grinned and patted her shoulder in a way that did not imply condescension by any means. "Don't be in too big a rush to graduate, though. As long as you don't take it too seriously, these could be the best times of your life, if you only let them." He reached out then, and picked a book off the top of one of her stacks. "May I? It's one of my favorites."_

"_Of course!" Nanao would never dream of denying someone their preferred reading material, no matter its provenance. "By all means, I insist, please do!"_

"_I'm in your debt." With a last friendly smile, the young vice-captain turned and walked away._

_Nanao watched him go._

I'm gonna marry you!

_She blushed furiously at this idea and hurriedly busied herself with her readings. As she did, though, the little girl couldn't help but peer over as that dashing individual made his way out of the library, apparently unaware of how much good he had done her mood. It only now occurred to her just what he had been trying to tell her. If he had faced adversity and overcome it, then so could she. Nanao Ise would rise to the rank of vice-captain one day, just like…_

_Uhhh…_

_I don't think he told me his name._

_Oh, well. Shouldn't be hard to find out. There were only thirteen people to choose from. Someday, she would thank him by name for taking the time to see to the needs of a mere academy trainee. _

_

* * *

_

Remembering that incident left Nanao feeling unaccountably angry. Like she had betrayed them all by not figuring out back then just what kind of person that man really was. There wasn't even the option of claiming he had hypnotized her. It was pure obtuseness on her part. I'm such an ignorant fool! Had I been a little smarter, I might have looked past the smile and goodwill, not succumbed to the charms of a dangerous traitor like some brainless kid, removed my glasses and simply…

_But he was so nice. And handsome! He liked you, I could tell by the way he looked at you, I can always te…_

SHUT UP!

Without warning, her anger had exploded against the nearest available target.

DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU EMPTY-HEADED LITTLE IDIOT? SHUT YOUR STUPID MOUTH! STOP BOTHERING ME WITH YOUR RIDICULOUS LITTLE CRUSHES, I'M SICK OF HEARING IT DAY IN AND DAY OUT! JUST BE QUIET!

Nanao stood stock-still in the middle of the room.

From inside her soul, there came a shuddering sob.

_I'm sorry!_

And her zanpakutō dove into the limits of their inner world, cutting itself off from her.

She flinched. The fury she felt had drained away with her shouting, and at the realization of her behavior that void was quickly filled by shame.

"_It hurts when people disdain the things we treasure the most."_

Dammit all to hell. Why couldn't the miserable bastard have been lying about that too? Why did he have to be so insightful? Hating smart people just did not come naturally to her.

Without further ado, Nanao stepped inwards in search of her partner.

She found her in that black room whose height was much greater than its width. On the cylindrical surface of the chamber there were thousands upon thousands of pictures, both men and women. Most of them had adoring messages or words scrawled across them, depending on the whim which had seized the writer at the time. Glancing around as she stepped past the mounds of photos that covered the floor, Nanao came at last on the soul of this place.

A small, pudgy preteen girl sat weeping amidst all this disordered evidence of a lonely heart. She was wearing an oversized conical black hat with a wide brim and a little pink heart dangling from the tip. Colorful mismatched socks adorned her feet, while a frilly pink and white European sleeveless ball gown left her shoulders bare. Gloves with the words 'Happy Girl' written on them covered her fingers. At this time, the zanpakutō was clutching an assortment of photos to her chest, burying her face in her upturned knees and crying.

The weapon's wielder looked upon this display, and thought she might do the same.

Nanao went and sat beside the miserable little spirit, taking off her glasses and gazing at her friend unhappily.

"Ureshii Onnanoko," she murmured the name gently.

The girl cringed and huddled in on herself tighter.

_I'm… sorry._

A shudder went through that sensitive frame, and the pictures spilled out onto the floor. Her mistress quickly looked away when she recognized one of them as being Aizen.

_I'm s-s-sorry, Nanao. I didn't mean to make you angry, I just… wanted him to like me! He was nice, I thought he was really nice! And he… he talked to you and he said you were smart and whenever he… whenever he came to see the captain he always told you how nice it was to see you and he meant it! He wasn't like all the rest, he understood us, really understood us! Or at least, I thought he did. I'm so stupid, why didn't I see how awful he really was? I'm always doing that, just letting how people look be everything. I'm so sorry, Nanaooooo!_

The sound of her inner child's misery was making the normally ironclad maiden feel on the verge of losing it herself. She sometimes wondered if she treated her own captain's indecorous behavior with such violent ire as a result of not being able to directly lash out at her guardian spirit. Whereas any other time she would have fought to keep her emotions under control, here alone Ise let her mask drop without reservation. As the first tears slid down her face, she reached out and took one of Onnanoko's hands in hers. Pressing it to her cheek, she spoke to her partner softly, letting her concern and regret come out.

"Please forgive me," Nanao whispered. "I wasn't really upset with you. I was angry at Aizen and all the rest. And really, most of all, I was disappointed that I never saw it in him. To me, Sōsuke-tai… he was one of the best of them, right up there with our own taichou. I don't like to think that he fooled me just as easily as everyone else."

None of this served to coax a response from the despondent entity. Well, when all else fails, there's one avenue that can always be depended upon to get results. "And I _really_ hate to think about all the times I wished Kyōraku-taichou could be a little more like him. It seems like a betrayal; of course they're not alike, our captain's no traitor. He's good and kind and funny and he treats me well, he even writes poetry about me."

Ureshii Onnanoko's tears were starting to lessen somewhat.

_Re_… she hiccupped. _Really_ _bad poetry!_

That made her smile. "Yes, reprehensible, even."

_Atrocious, you mean!_ From over her laced forearms, a pair of glowing yellow eyes peeked up, a timid smile causing her cheeks to bunch.

"Banal!" Nanao shot back.

_Crummy!_

That one made her laugh before she responded with, "Deplorable!"

_Egregious!_

"Frightful!"

_Grotesque!_

"Horrendous!"

_Incomprehensible!_

"Jejune!"

_Calumnious!_

"Lackadaisical!"

And Onnanoko jumped up.

_That was a 'c', not a 'k', Nanao! You missed it, you lose!_

"I lose," the slim sorceress agreed, settling down on one arm. "All right, I know the drill. Let me see, let me see." She gave an appearance of pondering thoughtfully, tapping her chin as she looked around the scattered pile of sheets. Her despondence at being unable to gather any useful background information on the traitors was no longer such a big deal now. "I think… this one!" With that, Nanao picked up a photo turned down, flipped it over and studied it appraisingly. Her zanpakutō came over to join her. "Now, then, who's this?"

_That?_ And the living dagger giggled, twirling a strand of her orange and black hair. _That one's Ishida. Uryū Ishida, his name is. Isn't that such a beautiful name? 'Rain Dragon'. Ohhh, Nanao, I could turn to ice from those steely blue eyes! _

"Undoubtedly." She stopped to consider for a moment. "Wait a minute, this is one of the _ryoka_!"

_Yeah, so?_

"Well, then, why is he wearing a shinigami uniform in this picture?"

_Oh, that?_ Ureshii plucked the picture away and hugged it. _He's so smart, don't you know? When he got here, he wasn't like all the rest. He decided to dress up as one of us to escape detection. Isn't that amazing, that he would think of something so clever?_

"Yes, most impressive," Nanao agreed, covering her mouth.

_Nanao, don't laugh at me! You really might have a shot with this one! Look at him, his hair's like yours, and he wears glasses, and he's kinda skinny just like you…_

"All right, watch it there, I get enough of that from Matsumoto," she growled. "And besides, don't you know? That boy's only fifteen years old in the human world."

_What? Seriously? I would have said around a hundred and seven!_

"Well, that just goes to show that even you…"

Nanao stopped.

Wait a minute.

Something just came to her.

While the giddy ghost was still admiring her latest infatuation, Nanao stood up and crossed over to her. She placed her hands on those rounded shoulders, and Ureshii looked up with surprise.

"Onnanoko," the suddenly serious shinigami spoke softly, "I want you to do something for me."

_Okay. Sure. Anything._

"This is something I think only you can do. It's your special talent, and I want you to concentrate really hard on this one."

_What, what? You're making me all jumpy, what is it?_

Bending down, Nanao Ise then retrieved the picture she had noticed earlier and held it up.

"I want you to tell me," she said in a hushed whisper, "how old Aizen Sōsuke is."

Ureshii Onnanoko stared at that smiling, tumble-haired image for several moments. Her cheerful face was contracted now in thought and intense cogitation. In that time, Nanao tried very hard not to shake her to get a faster response. Then the spirit gave a tilt of its silly hat, and looked up into the lady's deep amethyst eyes.

_Five hundred and seventy-five_.

She gaped. "_Years?"_

_Uh-huh._ The girl took the picture and inverted it for Nanao to see. _I know, I thought he was younger too. But when he showed off his power on the Sokyōku Hill, I got a feel for it, even from in the infirmary. It was that strong. Like the Commander-General's, even!_

Nanao shuddered at that thought. What she had been exposed to just over a week ago was still fresh in her memory. Only last week had her medical overseer pronounced her fit to move about and participate in the running of her division. All the same, it was hard to even look at Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni anymore, or even be in the same room with him, knowing that on a whim he could crush her into jelly without so much as lifting a finger. And to think that Aizen also possessed that type of strength…

Wait a minute. Five hundred and…

"Seventy-five." she murmured.

_What? Nanao, what is it?_

The avid historian didn't answer right away. She was rifling back through her copious memory, attempting to confirm her misgivings. Almost there, and… yes. That's right.

"Ureshii," she murmured, tapping her glasses against her cheek, "What was happening five hundred and seventy-five years ago?"

_Huh?_

The strangely-dressed fan-girl pondered this a moment.

_Well… I dunno. What?_

Nanao held up a hand. From off the wall, another picture detached and flew over to her. She looked at it, debating what her instincts were telling her.

"In that period, long ago? That was around the time of the Manor Wars."

Before them both, the image of Byakuya Kuchiki stared right back.

Nanao looked up.

"This might have been a better lead than I thought. I think I should tell her about it."

* * *

It's taken me fifty years, Rukia thought to herself, but I have finally found something truly wonderful about being a Kuchiki.

"To what do I owe the… honor… of this visit, Lady Kuchiki?"

A servant approached with something that might have been wine in a transparent decanter. When he poured it into her cup, she couldn't help but notice something that resembled an eyeball floating in the jug. Even under normal circumstances, Rukia would not have been inclined to drink any alcohol she was offered in this place, and that disposition was certainly not about to change. Fortunately, her status allowed her to ignore any such niceties should she so please.

Hands folded in her lap, the demure socialite raised her eyes and said, "I would like to engage your services in a matter of personal interest."

"Will wonders never cease. I confess to being astonished by this sudden interest in my efforts. You've certainly never had cause to seek me out before."

As he said this, Captain Kurotsuchi raised his own glass and quaffed the beverage in one gulp. His tongue flicked out and ran over his lips, as if he wanted to savor every drop. But the hungry look in his wide-eyed gaze showed no signs of appeasement as he drank in her form seated across from him.

Not for the first time, Rukia questioned her sanity in doing this. There were some who might think that her newfound elevation to head of the wealthiest body in Seireitei had gone to her own head, leaving them to doubt the veracity of her investments. She, however, was operating on a different game than anyone else had cause to play. Having tasted power, the young woman was finding it to be completely unsatisfactory. That is, unless one chose to use it in ways that served to bring swift, meaningful, desirable results. After that…

Power was completely exhilarating.

Case in point. Rukia Kuchiki, unseated shinigami in the Thirteenth division, would never have so much as been able to get her foot in the door at the Research and Development Bureau. Lady Kuchiki, however, had not only been received immediately upon sending word of her intention to call upon the facilities, but had then requested and been granted an audience with the facility's reclusive and deeply disturbed chief officer.

This was what had brought her into the visual field of this particular breed of psychopath.

She was frightened, not to mention uncertain of her being able to leave here whenever she chose. The bodyguards standing a few paces behind her would prove no deterrence should Mayuri decide he wanted to carve her open and remove her heart. Fortunately, even this social reprobate knew the value in not eviscerating the de facto leader of the supreme pillar of the Four Great Houses.

So it was that their meeting had begun.

Keeping very still, Rukia continued. "I may not have ever had reason to speak directly to you before, Mayuri-sama, but I would have been a miserable excuse for a shinigami indeed to have never taken note of your achievements. They are, if nothing else, quite eye-catching."

Her host reclined back on the plump cushion in which he sat, lacing his fingers over his belly and regarding her out of eyes so wide she could see the whites around his golden irises. Could that be his real eye color, or was it just another of the scientist's 'improvements', much like the distinctly Ptolemian beard that now sprouted from his chin or the pasty white skin that appeared slightly scaly up close. Mayuri had neglected to wear any sort of head covering to this meeting, and his blue hair fell in a long braid down his chest.

_You don't suppose he's emulating Captain Unohana with that get-up, do you?_

Are you joking? Those two couldn't possibly have anything to say to one another. Now hush, I have to concentrate on this man. The slightest misstep could prove fatal.

At last the antisocial academic stirred and spoke. "And if, pray tell, I were to inquire which in particular of my works you found most, as you say, _eye-catching?"_

If he had thought to trip her up on an overreached faux pas, Mayuri had a lot to learn about noble etiquette. You never spoke out of turn.

"The Seimichio."

For all that he was not a member of high society, Mayuri did a fine job at covering any surprise he might have felt. "Ah, yes," he breathed reflectively, reaching up to stroke his chin and leer at her. "The janitor of the Senkaimon Gate. One of my earliest contributions to Soul Society, and the most long-running. He hasn't needed to be replaced in over 150 years of service. That one certainly never gave me reason to complain, I'll grant you. Swallows any intruders right up with nary the need to chew. Would you care to know what becomes of them once they have been ingested, then?"

"I must decline, on the grounds that it would surely give me nightmares," she replied back. When Mayuri only snickered in a wholly discomforting manner, Rukia pressed ahead. "But I am rather more interested in what you can achieve, as opposed to what you have, Mayuri-sama."

"Speak your mind, Lady Kuchiki." The scorn in his voice was very real and oddly refreshing, displaying certain relatable and normal characteristics. "While I pride myself on displaying the pinnacle of hospitality to my guests, I must advise you I am a very busy man, especially in these taxing times. We all must do our part in defense of Soul Society, eh?"

"As you say, sir. There are two matters I would like your aid in resolving." So saying, Rukia gestured. One of the manservants at her back came forward then and proffered a small box. She opened it, and withdrawing the contents, placed it on the table and slid it across to him.

Mayuri raised an eyebrow. Reaching forward, he picked up the small glass tube with a stopper in it, studying the clear contents.

"Firstly, I would like to ask you to examine the liquid contained therein and report to me any and all peculiarities it might possess, whether in terms of makeup or spell factors. Specifically, I want to know if it has any harmful properties."

He cast her a questioning look. "How did you come by this?"

"It was delivered to my brother's sickbed under questionable circumstances. That is all I know of its provenance. It is my hope that you can tell me more."

The perverse figure placed the glass against his forehead, closing his eyes. "My, my. It's quite cold."

"It melted completely only an hour ago," she provided.

White eyelids snapped up swiftly. "And the second request you have for me?"

Well, this was it. Time to lay her cards on the table. He could refuse, accept, report her to the authorities, or simply laugh at her folly. But at the very least, I hope to get his attention with this.

"Mayuri Kurotsuchi, peak technician of the Research and Development Bureau, I, Rukia Kuchiki of the House of Kuchiki, would like to hire you to fashion a means by which a shinigami of captain-level or greater power might be destroyed."

He almost dropped the vial. Instead, the only thing that fell was the captain's jaw.

An instant later, though, he was grinning at her.

"My dear Lady Kuchiki," Kurotsuchi chortled, rising up and leaning towards her, his voice now taking on a most jocular and familiar timbre, "Are you asking me to construct a method by which you might murder our three errant misfits?"

_You're as smart as you are untrustworthy._

"I am."

He toyed with the end of his indigo braid. "Only a month ago, captain and noblewoman notwithstanding, such a request even being spoken aloud would have had both of us yanked out of bed and dragged before the Central Chamber of 46 to answer charges of treason and abuse of power. How much a week's difference can make, eh?" A violent shiver went up that ghoulish frame. Perhaps a thrill of fear, or even pleasure. One could never be certain with this abnormal character.

But he and I share one thing in common. It might be just what I need.

"I have no desire to speculate on the preferred habits of dead men, Kurotsuchi-sama. Since you have pleaded to be under a very tight schedule, I must ask for a swift response. Will you agree to accept either of these tasks?"

His eyeballs rolled slowly in opposite directions in their sockets 'til he looked quite wall-eyed. Even in such an admittedly goofy-looking position, there was no chance of lessening her guard around him.

Mayuri reached up and tapped his longest fingernail against his teeth. _Click. Click._ Rukia's imagination conjured an image of a judge of the underworld dropping bone discs on his abacus as the souls of the damned marched by. _Click. _Eternal torment._ Click. _Endless damnation.

Then he stopped.

"Send your servants out."

A shiver went up her spine. But no hint of distress was allowed to reach her face. Turning her head slightly, never taking her eyes off him, she said lightly, "You may await me back at the palanquin. I will speak with the house's master in private."

There was a sound, like someone drawing a faint breath behind her. But a moment later, she heard them both say in perfect synchronization, "As you wish, my lady."

The guardsmen departed, and Rukia faced the prince of hell alone.

Mayuri placed the glass vial on the table between them.

An instant later he was right in front of her, painted features thrust close to her own. His breath was cold, she realized. Was this man actually alive in any way we know of?

"Do you think you can play with me, trick me, little girl?" the madman whispered, sounded perversely happy as he did. "Did Yamamoto dispatch you here to test my loyalty? Or are you simply a messenger, sent by your egotistical brother to do his bidding so that he needn't sully his hands with me?"

Rukia looked back at him. It was slow, agonized death staring her in the face.

_Hello, old friend. It's been a while._

You're absolutely right, Sode no Shirayuki. Almost exactly like facing Gin Ichimaru. And I have plenty of experience in dealing with maniacs. I suppose I should thank the bastard for that when I next see him.

Today certainly was a day for firsts.

"No one sent me, and Byakuya-niisama is not aware of my visit here," she responded back in a soft frightened whisper. It certainly wasn't feigned. He liked her fear, she could see that clearly. Good. The happier he is, the more amenable he'll be. Assuming normal logic has any place in this person's head. "I have come on my own discretion. I chose to believe that while you are undoubtedly the most dangerous soul currently alive in Seireitei, you are not without a certain queer sort of dependability. When something must be done that would automatically offend the principles of a regular person, Mayuri Kurotsuchi could at least be depended upon to give it his consideration, if not his outright blessing."

Flattery came easily to her lips. But at the same time, it was true. The captain did have a reputation for being reliable. It was part of the reason the other division heads had been willing to deal with him on a daily basis.

And he was still listening to her. The repellant visage drew back to give her some air and a marginally greater level of comfort. Sitting on the table, he propped his hands on his knees and slowly rocked back and forth. Kurotsuchi regarded Rukia now with a flat expression, chewing his lower lip.

"So you say. But, Lady Kuchiki, to prove that your intentions are honorable, perhaps you would consent to a show of good faith, I wonder?"

The next stage of negotiations. Well, I'm still alive, at least. And even a bit morbidly curious, too.

"What would His Excellency suggest in that regard?"

He actually chuckled at the title, perhaps vacillating between accepting it on face value or dismissing it as sarcasm.

Then Mayuri slowly leaned forward.

His hand came up. Pallid fingers cupped her chin.

He watched her then, waiting to see if she would strike out at him or make a fuss.

Rukia stared right back, stone-faced.

I know this type. I know what they like. It's to feel that you are choosing to submit to them. Even though you know that you have options, you have taken the time to determine that the one which best serves is to accept their caresses and intrusions onto your personal space. That no matter how loathsome they might be to you, it is understood that they must be allowed to continue as they are doing. For the sake of something that only they know, a thing that they cherish in their secret hearts.

She would hopefully never understand the motivations of men like this.

There were differences. Before whenever Gin touched her, she always convinced herself that she could feel slight movements of his fingers. As though he were stroking her skin in miniature fashion. Kurotsuchi's grip was firm and did not waver. If he was taking any enjoyment out of her helplessness, no sign was forthcoming. Even the smile was missing now. He looked, if anything, rather curious.

Still, it was disturbing to think that monsters still existed in her life.

"I would like for you to tell me, Rukia-ojousama, just what you felt upon learning the men who sentenced you to death had been slain."

What?

Why would he care about that?

But he did. It was apparent in the way he gazed unblinkingly into her eyes. So why?

_He wants you to commit yourself to him. If you say it out loud, then he'll probably record it and use it as evidence against you if you betray him._

Was that really all it was?

Then… why do I feel… close to him right now?

It was this last thought that brought the truth to her lips.

"I was glad," the maiden spoke with undaunted courage. "It pleased me to think that they had been cut down while they sat thinking themselves safe and secure in their guarded bunker. I reproached myself for the thought, but ultimately, I let myself think it through to the end."

His scratchy voice was rather gentle now. "And what did you conclude, then?"

"Those people used me," she whispered back. "They used me as an example of what happens when you break the rules. Transferring death god powers to a human is not specifically a capital offense, but they pronounced my execution anyway. It was just a passing effort for them. To let the lesser shinigami know not to cross them, and to tell my brother that he was still subservient to their dictates. They considered everything about my case within the bounds of the law… _their_ law… and nothing else. Had we met in the corridors, not a one of them probably would have even recognized my face. I was just a case to them, one that they disposed of judiciously and efficiently before moving on to the next."

"So when I heard those men and women were dead and I was alive, I honestly wanted to drop down and thank Fate or God or whatever might be out there for making it so. The first thing I thought was, 'They'll never do this to someone else again'. The second was to wonder what I should tell the cook to serve my friends at dinner tonight. I dismissed everything about the dead with my next breath. If I am damned for thinking it, then there truly is no God as Aizen said, for they richly deserved what they got."

She turned her face away, removing it from his grip. "And that is all I have to say on the subject."

Rukia gazed at a space on the wall where strange semi-solid fluids flowed behind a transparent barrier, splitting and dissecting but never mixing.

To her right, she heard a sigh.

"Kuchiki."

And there was a snap.

"How I hated that name."

She came back about. The remorseless figure was sucking on a freshly lit pipe with a very long stem and a tiny bowl. Blue smoke curled faintly out of his nostrils, giving the impression of a fire blazing somewhere in his brain. Oddly enough, it reminded her of an expression Ichigo had used once when his overly excitable friend Asano had claimed to be thinking of something important. 'I thought I smelled something burning', the surly teen had grumbled to himself. Keigo had acted offended, as was his nature, but they had apparently gotten along well regardless.

Kurotsuchi drew away the pipe and exhaled a long stream of colored smoke. He gave her a companionable look then.

"You know I was once a prisoner of Soul Society, yes? Don't get so anxious, it's hardly a secret." The man took another long pull, closing his eyes. "I spent seven years behind bars chained to a wall. My crime was being… unpredictable, you might say. It was never explained to my satisfaction just what I was being hidden away for exactly. To this day, I can't tell you what turned their wrath against me. But one thing I do know is that when I was brought before the 46, the person who was chosen to read the notice of my incarceration was a man I recognized as being the son of Ginrei Kuchiki. Hiroto was his name. In hindsight, he seemed uncomfortable. Never once looked me head-on. Now I was a tad upset at the time, as you can imagine, so I can't be certain, but I could almost swear that as they dragged me out of there, he raised his hand in apology to me."

His eyes opened a fraction, enough to allow a soft golden ember to peek out at her from under those lids. Rukia found she couldn't look away from them. He had hypnotized her like a snake stalking a mouse.

"I hated him for that. It showed remorse on his part. He recognized that what he had done to me was wrong, and how does he seek to make amends? With an apology! As if mere words or gestures can take back the sins people commit against one another! Apologies are meaningless, no matter how sincere. The damage is done! The only thing that can possibly ameliorate the blame, to show true contrition, is to accept the injured party's pain as your own."

Mayuri twirled the smoking stick and leaned back to rest on one hand. "That is why I am never willing to perform any experiment on another that I have not already tried upon myself. In that way, they can hold nothing against me. Their spirits will have no power to curse or decry me. Because I have taken their pain as my own. It is the sweetest most satisfying agony to know that I can make myself beholden to no one, no matter how they deplore and deride me. That is how I sleep at night, Kuchiki Rukia. But the thing that gives me nightmares is knowing that others can defame me. That they can subject me to punishments that I have not deserved, and I am forbidden to seek to even the scales between us!"

Suddenly the pipe went sailing through the air, a tiny red star that struck the ground with a blaze of sparks.

"Social status is of no importance to me, Kuchiki-san. And wealth is a mere trifle. It is a means by which fools can impose their will on those greater and more intelligent than themselves. I have been approached by such vermin in the same way that you have come before me today. They actually dared to think that I would have to respond to their pathetic demands! Only simple rules of deportment I choose to abide by allowed them to exit these premises with their lives. Not that I did not exact quiet castigation upon them as they left, in ways that insured their remaining days would be absolutely hellish, of course. I am not a hired hand to be bought and dismissed on a whim!"

Captain Kurotsuchi stood up then, gazing down on her from his rather slight height.

"But while your previous predicament held no particular interest for me, I confess to feeling strangely close to you now. We are like two soldiers on the same side of a war which has suddenly ended with the deaths of our enemies! We never met before, but when we do, our shared experiences serve to bind us together. Therefore, for the sake of the injustices done to both of us, I shall examine your offering. And for the satisfaction we share at knowing we have outlived them all, I will lend my efforts to your personal vendetta."

So it was done. The Lady of Kuchiki rose to her feet, feeling relieved and exhilarated, and they faced one another across a mere foot of space.

"I understand that the running of bureaucratic affairs in the Seireitei has been handed off to delegates from the First division," Rukia said then. "That includes budgetary allowances for organizations such as your own. Given that this is the case, and considering how funding has always seemed to be an issue at the R&D Bureau, I would like to offer my personal financial backing to either of these endeavors."

Mayuri's eyes twinkled at this. "The House of Kuchiki wants to bankroll _me?"_

"I must correct you, Excellency," she responded. "I stated that I would offer my personal finances. There is no telling how much longer I will retain the status of head of the household, therefore I will not commit the Kuchiki holdings to any unessential effort that my brother would have to oversee after he returns. I have a monthly allowance that has never been used in all my time as a noble. Right now it is an adequate sum for anything I believe you might need. It is this amount I would like to tender, in order to hasten you past any financial difficulties which may crop up. If it would not be perceived as an insult, that is."

A high-pitched titter escaped his lips. "Breaking open your piggy bank, are you? Well, the pencil-pushers are in an uproar right now, I will admit. Their only dream is to take their boss's job, and when the position opens, they're too scared of winding up gutted if they do. I've no real reason to turn down any drop in the proverbial bucket. Feel free to offer me any funds you can lay claim to, good Lady."

Rukia then reached into the folds of her kimono and withdrew a folded slip of paper, which she passed over to him. Mayuri took it, opening what turned out to be a banknote. It was drawn on the account of Rukia Kuchiki, and the amount in question was…

Third thing to be glad for. Seeing Mayuri Kurotsuchi rendered speechless.

His benefactor regarded him.

Mayuri stared at the paper.

She cocked her head to one side.

Mayuri stared.

She frowned.

"Mayuri-sama?"

Nothing.

"Mayuri Kurotsuchi!"

His head jerked up. "Yes?"

"Are you well?"

His gaze, when it met hers, seemed a little unfocused. "Yes. I am… well."

She nodded. "If that amount proves insufficient, please inform me, and I will provide you with the next installment."

"GRT!"

The yellow teeth clenched, his eyes spun wildly for several seconds. When they came back to their proper positions, the captain managed to choke out, "You're saying this _isn't the whole thing?"_

Rukia blinked. "No. That's just how much I can authorize to be withdrawn in a single day."

The tendons were standing out in stark detail on his neck, and unless she was mistaken, smoke was once more rising out of his nostrils.

She bowed to him. "If there is nothing more to discuss, I shall take my leave of you, Excellency. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today. I hope to be notified soon of any progress you might have made in these matters. Good day, sir."

There was no need to wait for a response. She was a noble, and judging by the look on his face, it wouldn't be forthcoming anyway. Turning about, Rukia glided gracefully towards the door.

"Lady Kuchiki."

She stopped. Her head came about to regard him.

Kurotsuchi seemed to have regained control of his faculties. There was a smile on his face once more, and it was by no means pleasant.

"If you get the chance, please give my regards to our mutual acquaintance Kisuke. Tell him I'm still eagerly looking forward to the event that would allow me to take official control of the Bureau."

Rukia's eyes narrowed slightly.

Without further response, she then exited the chamber.

Passing through the hall that led to her escort, she allowed herself to address her concerns once more. Have I just created a monster here? The only real limitation to that man's pursuits has always been budgetary concerns. If I take that chain off him, there's no telling what he'll do, or to whom. What if…?

She gave a shake of her head. All these thoughts and more had already taxed her conviction, and she had overcome them with the knowledge of just how severe the danger they faced really was. For the time being, they would have to utilize every resource in their arsenal to overcome the forces of Aizen Sōsuke. The aftermath would be bloody no matter what. And their victory was certainly not assured. I won't have it be said that we lost because we simply didn't want to live with ourselves afterwards. This is my decision. Any regrets will belong to me, and I will bear them without complaint.

Rukia returned to her attendants and left that place.

* * *

Back in his office, Mayuri Kurotsuchi sat down in the chair before his desk. He reached up to pat the financial endowment in his robe, as if to verify that it had not simply evaporated in the past minute. Already ideas were swirling through his mind, possibilities that had seemed implausible only an hour before. That girl, the _ryoka_, the three traitors: it all held much that could be of benefit to his work. Indeed, so very much.

He found himself going to check his pocket once again, and felt both invigorated and annoyed by it.

The urge to begin was quickly prodding him into action, firing his muscles and even causing him to tremble slightly with excitement. Oh, she had really done it, that girl! Brave little thing, even if a bit dull by all accounts. No surfeit of courage, though. Still, the thought of what she had tasked him to accomplish made his pulse race quick-time. You daring minx, Rukia Kuchiki, tempting me with this insurmountable task and this liberating largesse! What joy she's brought into my being! Were it not for the consequences, I would have grabbed that empty-headed angel right then and there and…

Hmmm.

Empty-headed.

With that, he flicked a button on his chair's arm. One of the screens on the wall came to life, revealing the workroom where his lackeys were scurrying about to do his bidding. The one seated before the frame, the rotund googly-eyed Hiyosu, looked up and gave a start upon seeing his master's face.

"Mayuri-dono! How may we assist y…"

"I want you to bring to my chamber Gigai #13-K497."

A very noticeable twitch appeared in one of the flunky's eyelids.

"F-f-four nine seven? Mayuri-dono, that particular gigai was, errm, destroyed." He swallowed before continuing. "As per official instructions received following the order of execution by the Chamber of 46."

The black and white terror mask gazed back at Hiyosu unblinkingly, and he began to sweat through his white robe.

"I care nothing for the official report you submitted, Stomach Brain. _Un-_officially, I want that gigai brought to me in the exact same condition it arrived. If this is not done within fifteen minutes, I'll simply use _you_ for what I have in mind!"

Mayuri cut off the connection, and proceeded to busy himself with other matters.

Ten minutes later, there came a knock at his door.

No one was in the hall when he opened the portal, but a preservative body-bag was waiting on a gurney. Wheeling it in, he moved into one of the research rooms located off his office. Kurotsuchi turned the lights down low, and then lifted the bundle onto a soft red couch designed to resist all stains. From a pedestal that came up out of the floor, he then began to withdraw his special scalpels and syringes.

Without further ado, the demented genius opened the bag, revealing a unique gigai that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt bore the unmistakable mark of his former boss, Kisuke Urahara.

He grinned to himself.

"Simply because I can!"

And with that, he fell to.

* * *

'_So glad to hear from you again, my dear!'_

'_Yeah. Nice of you to pick up, so to speak.'_

'_I've been very busy with things on my end. But considering that we're all still here and everyone now knows everything they need to know, I suppose I should congratulate you. Splendid job!'_

'_Thanks. Oh, by the way, our Shiba friend says hello to you.'_

'_Ah, yes. Wish them well, give them all my best.'_

'_Can do.'_

'…'

'…'

'…_Well?'_

'_What?'_

'_Are you trying to annoy me? The three of us are still not precisely in the best spot defensively right now. I keep expecting something unpleasant to pop up on my doorstep. Or maybe even something pleasant.'_

'_I'm still working on that.'_

'_You know, that's usually the answer people give when they've been dragging their feet and not wanting you to realize it. I should know, having used it quite a few times myself. Have you been allowing certain people to… distract you?'_

'_Such as?'_

'_You know. The charming head of the Kuchiki.'_

'_I can keep more balls in the air than just one or two. I'm multitalented that way. Give me some credit, why don't you.'_

'_Oh, I do. After all, you are the only one of us still capable of moving freely between here and Soul Society. Very useful, that. But enough distraction. Even if you've only learned a bit, I would still like very much to hear it. So please…?'_

'_All right, if you insist. I've enlisted a few friendly souls to help us in our efforts. I haven't tried to approach any of the others directly. There's too great a risk they might send up a warning flare if I do. Still, something interesting has come up. I'm going to look into it when I pay old man Kuchiki a visit, see if we can't at least dispose of one big name.'_

'_Start with the least conspicuous, I suppose.'_

'_I wouldn't underestimate him, if I were you.'_

'_Never. Do I need to remind you to clean up after yourself?'_

'_Nope.'_

'_That's my girl.'_

'_Your what?'_

'_I didn't write anything!'_

'_Keep a civil tongue in your head, Taichou.'_

'_The children send their love!'_

'_Whatever. Over and out.'_

_

* * *

_

Orihime Inoue was humming cheerily to herself as she cracked an egg open over the blender. Next came… well, something in French that she couldn't quite make out. The closest culinary term she knew was 'escarole', so she decided to throw it in. Just because she had some from last week's grocery shopping. It probably wouldn't change the taste much anyway, and might even make it better, now that she thought of it!

"The truly great chef can't be afraid to experiment!" she declared loudly, and then turned to look at the portrait of her brother in its shrine. "That's what you taught me, Onii-sama."

Bustling about the tiny kitchenette, the busty redhead noticed that she was holding a spatula. Why would she be doing that? Something like this was usually only meant for…

She smelled something just as the fire alarm went off.

With a yelp, Orihime dashed to the stove and removed the chocolate and rice mixture, which had turned a distinctive shade of deep black to match the smoke pouring out of it. Frantically she flung the whole thing into the sink and turned the faucet on. Her momentarily relief turned to dismay when an incredible gout of steam shot to the ceiling. From black to white. It reminded her briefly of that incredible light display that had topped Sokyōku Hill when Ichigo and Rukia's brother had finished their clash. It was so strange to be standing back in this tiny normal apartment again and remember something so completely and utterly…

Beautiful.

Inoue cast a look around her brightly decorated home as a small bit of longing entered her heart. She knew that it wasn't truly over, not with what she had seen afterwards. But somehow, it felt as if she was really no longer a part of that distant world anymore. Others who were better suited had risen to take her place, both in healing and for the sake of Ichigo's…

A loud knock came at her door.

Jumping, it finally dawned upon her that there had been someone knocking for the last thirty seconds. The flustered female dashed to the entrance of her home, flinging it open and already launching into a hurried apology. "I'm so sorry, please excuse me, I…"

The edge of a sword came to her throat.

"You're too trusting," a voice from behind then whispered in her ear.

Standing frozen on her doorstep, Orihime stared stricken at the fading sunset, too afraid to even blink.

"Really, Captain, what do you think you're doing to our host?"

"Teaching her a lesson about security."

"I believe she understands. So if you would…?"

There was the sound of someone making a disgusted noise in the back of their throat, and the lethal implement moved away. Trembling, Orihime turned slowly about.

A short woman with shoulder-length black hair was stepping backwards, returning a wakisazhi to its sheathe strapped horizontally at the small of her back. A white sleeveless robe fell to her ankles, and on her hard yet definitely pretty face was an expression of icy condemnation, as if she were plotting to strangle everything in sight and Orihime in particular. This lady sent chills up the girl's spine.

The second visitor had quite the opposite effect, being around the same height as her partner, wearing a form-concealing haori with a nodachi sword hanging from a cord off her shoulder. This woman's face was older, but sweetly beautiful, reminding the girl of certain movie stars she had seen that were exceptionally suited at playing motherly roles. The black-braided goddess was regarding her with equal parts amusement and affection, like they were sharing a private joke. It made Inoue feel very happy and light to see her smile.

"Forgive us for entering this way," the gentle one spoke. "My compatriot felt it would be necessary in terms of, ah… clandestine purposes."

"Oh." Orihime responded faintly.

And then it finally hit her.

"Oh! You're from Soul Society!"

Her uninvited houseguests exchanged glances, as if to ask, 'She hadn't figured that out yet'? Before another word could be said, she had popped over to them and bowed respectfully. "Welcome to my home! I'm Orihime Inoue, and…"

"We know who you are," the one on the left spoke.

"Soifon-taichou, please," her partner remonstrated her. "Show some courtesy to our host."

"I am. You should check to see who it is before you answer your door, girl. There are dangers for a woman living alone. I could have killed you ten different ways while you were standing there apologizing. Twenty if I had been alone."

The older one blinked. "Why would your being alone have changed anything?"

"Witnesses," she grunted back, as if that explained everything.

"Perhaps, now would be the best time to perform introductions." At this, her more accommodating guest inclined her head. "Orihime Inoue, we have met before, but never been introduced. I am Unohana Retsu, captain of the Fourth division in the Gotei 13. To my right is Soifon, captain of the Second division. Once again, forgive us for entering your home unbidden and unannounced, but certain matters must be kept secret."

"Well… that's all right… I guess. You're both welcome in my home. You're friends of Rukia-san's, right? Please, make yourselves comfortable. Can I offer you anything to eat?"

Soifon's menacing scowl managed to turn blacker. "We're dead, simpleton. What could you possibly feed us?"

"Ah…" Inoue thought about this for a moment. "AH!" With a flash of inspiration, she then sped over to the shrine devoted to her brother, picked up some of the manju she put out for him from last night and flashed back to offer it to the two spirits.

Now even Unohana seemed to have no idea how to react to this.

After a while, Orihime began to get nervous and abashed. "It's… something we put out for the dead. It's really… good, I bought it at the grocery store on…" Her voice died away, and she realized that she was performing quite poorly as a hostess and possibly even insulting these two very important people.

Then Unohana stepped forward and took the proffered foodstuffs.

"Thank you, my dear. We appreciate your hospitality. A welcome smile can make any home seem a castle, and yours would put this dwelling on equal footing with that of the King of Soul Society."

Again, the solitary teenager's heart glowed.

"You're very, very welcome! Both of you!"

She beamed at Retsu, then Soifon, who seemed somewhat taken aback by this open and heartfelt friendliness, as though its like was unknown to her.

The captain of Squad Four spoke up then. "Orihime-chan, if you're not too busy, might we take some time to speak to you about certain issues?"

"Certainly, Okaasan." She moved to get some pillows to sit on, and then froze with the realization of what she said. Turning slowly, the blushing beauty stammered, "S-s-sorry, Captain, I… I just called you 'Mom'! It was a slip, please, don't think anything of it, I was just…!"

Unohana seemed to be having difficulty holding in her laughter, hiding her mouth behind one voluminous sleeve. As for Soifon, she was giving Orihime the same look Tatsuki sometimes did, reserved for those times when she claimed to have no idea what precisely the other girl was talking about.

A few minutes later, the two spectral visitors were seated in the living room with Inoue sitting across from them.

"I will come to the point," the elder captain started things off. "I have journeyed here to extend you an offer concerning your future. Captain Soifon has been assigned as my bodyguard during this visit, owing to the volatile nature in which our world remains at this moment."

The tiny assassin had finally consented to sit down after inspecting absolutely everything in Orihime's apartment. She now kept quite still. Only her eyes darted about, perhaps at some sound or sign that no one else could hear, like a chipmunk sensing danger. It was rather fascinating to watch, actually, but when the captain caught the human girl staring those eyes became positively vicious, causing Orihime to almost break her neck looking away so fast. At this point, the full gist of what the second ghost in white said sank in.

"My future?"

"Yes. Specifically, after you die."

"Oh." She considered this.

Orihime then bolted upright. Soifon's hand suddenly held a dagger that came up, only to have her wrist caught in Unohana's firm grip.

"_I'm going to DIE?"_ the girl wailed.

"Eventually," the petite death god muttered.

"Not now, dear!" Unohana strove to console their frantic ally. "I was referring to whenever it is that you finally join us in Soul Society. I didn't mean to imply you were about to die!" Although, she thought glancing down at Soifon's deadly reaction, perhaps you were.

They finally managed to calm the frightened child enough to continue, with Retsu taking the lead again as usual. "As I was saying, though we do not usually approach mortals prior to their passing so as not to unduly influence them, in your case any such precautions are unnecessary. To put it simply, Inoue-chan, I believe that you would make a splendid addition to my own unit, the Fourth, which is tasked with the treatment and preservation of those souls at risk in Soul Society."

"I remember," Orihime breathed. "You saved Rukia-san's brother while I was working on Kurosaki-kun."

"Yes." The medical mistress smiled. "How is young master Kurosaki, by the way?"

"A-OKAY!"

Orihime shouted this while closing her eyes and thrusting out her arm with a thumbs-up. Something whistled by her cheek, then, and when she opened them it was to find Soifon and Unohana glaring at one another, with their own outstretched arms crossed together. Very peculiar.

"Wonderful to hear, my child. But getting back to the purpose of this visit. As you know, the war between Soul Society and the Hollows has been going on for thousands of years. Even if things hadn't turned out as they had recently, the need for competent healers would still be a high priority in our line of work. Certainly, we have no intention of losing this forthcoming battle, but that is not your concern at this moment. Regardless of the outcome, conflict will always exist on some level, for the rest of eternity. With the level of life-saving ability you administered to both your friends and several of my own comrades, it is clear that you have abundant heart, mercy and spirit necessary to work wonders in our ranks. That is why I wanted to reach out to you before any of the other divisions, to be the first to…"

"Captain Mayuri already offered me a job," Orihime blurted out.

The ancient medic paused. "Pardon?"

"Oh, don't worry!" she waved her hand desperately. "I wasn't about to take it! He had just blown up several people right in front of me, and he would have completely freaked me out even if that hadn't happened. You should have heard some of the things he said to me! You know," and Orihime leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially then, "between you and me, I think that man might be crazy!"

"Genius," Soifon muttered in her husky voice, letting her gaze roam about the room.

"Hmm?"

Uhonana spoke up swiftly. "'The fine line between insanity and genius', Orihime-chan. It's an expression that is often used in regards to Captain Kurotsuchi."

"Don't worry," Soifon snapped sharply. "Mayuri Kurotsuchi has been warned not to interfere in your lives any more than he already has."

"Really?" Orihime regarded the taciturn fighter closely. The look of warning in that face might have been directed at everyone in the room, and she wisely chose not to press the issue.

"Well, as I said, this visit was simply to let you know some of your options and the respect we hold you in. Hopefully you'll remember us when our worlds intersect once again, Orihime-chan. You have my thanks for listening to this old woman's concerns." Unohana made preparations to stand up. As she did, the bouncy redhead leaped upright.

"Oh wait, don't go! Please let me make something for you to take back to Soul Society, it won't take more than a minute, I still feel I haven't been a proper host this evening!"

"That's really not necessary, child, we're neither of us able to…"

"Wait just a moment!"

With that, Orihime rushed from the room, pausing for only a second to wonder why there was a dagger imbedded in her wall. The captains looked at one another speculatively, but remained where they were. After a minute, their inscrutable server came back with her arms filled with what appeared to be books of some kind. These she carefully deposited in two neat stacks before the death gods.

"Here!" Orihime panted breathlessly. "While you wait for me to finish, please enjoy reading these! They're research material I got about shinigami, I picked them up before I went to Soul Society so I could brush up on your customs and not offend anyone while I was there. They're very popular here, have a look and I'll be done in about fifteen minutes!"

Before a word could be spoken in reply, the girl had dashed behind the partition to the left separating them from the kitchen.

Unohana and Soifon stared at the offered manuscripts. Eventually, being less suspicious of their provenance, the older captain reached out and picked up one of the colorful volumes. She studied the cover, then tried to puzzle out the name of the tome.

"_Soul… Eater?" _she mumbled curiously.

Intrigued, Unohana turned to the first page. She was startled to find a blend of what appeared to be both drawings and words comprising the contents. A quick scan through the book revealed that it was done entirely in this format. Intrigued, the diligent reader then turned back to the front and began her progress.

Soifon remained on alert. She did not touch the literature.

Fifteen minutes passed.

The sounds from the kitchen continued. Orihime poked her head back into the room and shouted joyously, "Just another minute!"

Unohana smiled at her, and the teen went back inside.

Soifon leaned over. "Unohana-taichou, we really should be going."

Her charge nodded absently. "Yes, yes, my dear. Just as soon as Orihime-chan finishes her work. It shouldn't take long." She then went back to reading.

Half an hour went by.

Soifon began to engage in muscle-loosening techniques.

Unohana continued flipping pages.

From the kitchen, Orihime sang, "Just a few more minutes!"

Thirty minutes later, Soifon spoke up. "Taichou, I must insist we leave immediately."

In response Unohana only murmured, "Interesting," while remaining engrossed in her new hobby.

An hour later, while Soifon had turned to polishing several of her weapons, a horrible blaring noise came from the kitchen. She was up and dashing forward in an instant, and almost collided with Orihime, who emerged at a run clutching a strange round device that was emitting the calls. Escaping into another part of the house, the cacophony cut off with a splash and what sounded like a lid slamming closed on a box. The girl then came back in with her shirt wet and proclaimed that it would just be another minute. The master shinobi watched her return to the cooking area, noticing wisps of smoke that came out between the curtains.

She was starting to become annoyed by this mission.

Unohana did not seem to have noticed this escapade.

After another forty minutes, when she had used up everything she could possibly think of to keep herself occupied, Soifon sat down and picked one of the books off the stack closest to her. She read the cover bemusedly.

"_Death Note."_

With a disinterested shrug, she opened it and began to read.

One hour passed.

Soifon and Unohana sat side by side, stock still. Each held a manga before their faces.

A gout of flame shot from the kitchen and passed an inch in front of them.

Neither shinigami moved.

A minute after, they both reached up at the same time and turned a page.

* * *

"So there is a nurse," Unohana explained. "She treats the children when they are wounded fighting, but the truth is she is actually an evil witch trying to raise an ambiguously-sexed demon god and unleash insanity and fear upon the world, and Maka (you remember her? With the scythe-boy? ) she learns of this and goes beneath the school to confront a cabal of witches and…"

Soifon sat with another volume before her face and did not respond to any of this.

* * *

"Thank you for waiting," Orihime chirped. "I hope you like them!"

The captains stood before an open portal to Soul Society. Unohana took both of the presents, regarding the objects bemusedly.

"Thank you, Orihime-chan." She peered at one closely, then looked back up. "What type of food is this exactly?"

"Caramel nut-covered apples!" the girl hopped up and down waving her arms excitedly.

The shinigami regarded these objects on sticks.

"I made one for Yachiru-chan too! Please give it to her when you see her, I know she likes sweets!"

Retsu accepted the proffered confection and smiled warmly. "Thank you for everything this night. I have not had this much fun in ages!" She turned back to her fellow officer, whose back was turned to them. "Soifon-taichou, do you have anything you'd like to say to Orihime?"

The Stealth Forces mistress turned about, and both women took an involuntary step back at the look on her face.

"I see it now!" Soifon whispered. "It makes so much sense! Everything could all work out this way! The plan is perfect, it would only require the proper application of kidō and penmanship! I _must_ return to Soul Society and inform everyone of the possibilities." Gleaming black eyes trained on Orihime. "Thank you, Orihime-san! When the time comes, I will make certain that your name is not among those condemned! Now, I must go!" With that she stepped into the dimensional distortion and passed from the face of the world.

Unohana took all three candy sticks in one hand and reached out to touch Orihime's face tenderly. The unearthly caress registered against her skin as goosepimples and something like a warm breeze. On impulse, Inoue stepped forward and hugged her. A look of surprise crossed the physician's face, and then she returned the embrace as best she could.

They parted, and with a last benevolent smile, the shinigami elder left the beauteous princess alone once more.

_To be continued…_


	18. Aftermath: Wolf and Lady

Grimmjow Jeaguerjaques bent and picked at a mound of gray dirt, only to watch it crumble away. Nothing more happened. He grimaced and stood back up, letting the dust pass through his form uninterrupted.

"Pah!" the arrancar spat. "Reminds me of home, only even more like a 'Dry World'. I can't believe this place has even less spectral density than down in the Earth!"

"There is water here," Tia Haribel spoke in muffled tones. "Buried deep and cold, but I can feel it. As for spirit intensity…" And she glanced about before moving past him, "You'll soon see a force like nothing you've ever known."

The _Quinta Espada_ stuffed his hands in his pockets and loped forward to catch up to his superior. For a time they walked side by side through this desolate landscape, neither bothering to speak. The lack of air was not what prevented them. Both had simply grown accustomed to silence in their long quests for personal power. As a result, he and the _Segunda_ actually got along as well as any two vicious monsters actually could.

Far ahead, the pair of shinigami they followed had crested a rise and descended into what was no doubt another crater, much like the last few they had walked across. Although this in no way meant they were out of earshot, Grimmjow took this as an opportunity to ask something that had been bothering him.

"How did you learn about this thing, anyway?"

Haribel glanced over at him, her livid sea-green eyes standing out against the deep brown tan of her skin. His own half-open blue ones shot right back. Considering that they were all that was visible of her face above that high collar, those eyes certainly commanded one's attention. It was still somewhat unnerving to finally see the face that had been hidden for so long behind a Hollow's mask, even if only partially. But having broken the silence, he was not about to back down now.

Finally she turned her gaze forward.

"The moon and the ocean are connected. One obeys the pull of the other. I lived in the seas long enough to recognize that bond. After a while, it occurred to me that something in that satellite was pulling me as well. Very faintly. Eventually I realized there was only one thing it could be. After I was no longer an _adjuchas_, I came to investigate. I found it."

They continued for a while.

"And?" Grimmjow finally pressed when nothing further came.

"And I ran."

Tia ghosted up over a rise, then turned to watch him from the summit, her expression hidden behind the white veil.

"Were it not for Aizen, I would still be running. Believe it."

This admission, coming from a being who had aspired to and succeeded in becoming an all-powerful _vasto lorde_, served to give the panther demon his first real idea of what it was they were risking in coming here.

He joined her at the lip of the crater. Glancing back behind, Jaegerjaques could see his _fracción_ moving in a close-knit group of five. The dearth of spirit particles in this place made it difficult for those reaped _Gillian_ Hollows to move as easily as them. Farther back, the _Septima Espada_, Aaroniero Arruruerie, was bringing up the rear to catch any stragglers.

Six _Gillian_. One _adjuchas_. A _vasto lorde_. And two shinigami. That made ten in all. The same number of the _Espada_. Part of him had wanted to question Aizen if this was done intentionally. But the _Quinta_ had ultimately decided he didn't really care. After all, before long he would see just what it was they… were…

Grimmjow had turned and looked down into the depression.

He had to tell himself not to run away.

"Shit," the arrancar breathed, something similar to fear-struck awe rendering him otherwise speechless.

"Come," Haribel floated past him. "It can't reach you yet. All the same, don't let it smell your fear."

A second later, the realization that he was trembling caused the undead war machine to spring forward, biting back silent imprecations of wrath and a queer bloodlust that usually only came upon him right before a fight to the death.

Catching up to the aquatic vampire, they approached the point where their shinigami leaders had stopped. Aizen turned and smiled at them in what might have been reassurance or simply to prove that he could do so even in the face of this abomination. At his side, Kaname Tosen was as impassive as ever. They all turned to look at it then.

It looked right back.

It was a Hollow. That much made sense. There was a mask, one scarred and cracked in several places, giving it the appearance of webbed porcelain.

The rest was like something out of Grimmjow's worst nightmare.

The monster was crouched down on its haunches. It resembled a wolf, but bigger than any beast had a right to be. It was a behemoth, ninety feet at the shoulder. The top of its back was even higher, of course. Now to be sure, he had seen Hollows much bigger than this. _Gillian_ grew to soaring heights. The thing was, no mere size could explain the terror this creature exuded. It was as if he were a hunter on the trail of prey, only to look back and realize what he was actually doing was running desperately away from something following right behind him, just the last lagging rear guard of a horde fleeing from the king of the beasts.

The wolf's coarse spiky fur was black and twisted, except down its back, where what looked like a profusion of smaller pelts of varying colors and sizes were clumped together into its flesh. Normal body proportions were not at work here; shoulders muscled like a bull's, two shoulder-blades protruding unnaturally high like jagged wings. It had a tail, but it looked more like a malleable spiked club with an arrowhead point. The hind legs scratched against bare rock, looking capable of rending this planetoid's surface in pieces. Its shinbones actually divided in half, and as Grimmjow watched its feet split apart, two identical appendages gouging furrows before snapping back together again. Where most canines had a dewclaw, there was something that might have been a vestigial arm constantly clawing and ripping in all directions, sometimes even scratching the beast's hide so it dripped blood that just as quickly flowed back into its body. At the elbow junction there was what could only be described as a mouth that opened and closed depending on its member's relative positions. There was a profusion of claws like obsidian boulders on far too many toes that were longer than necessary and scaled in the manner of birds. Completely and utterly freakish.

The bone mask that marked it as one of them was frozen in a permanent snarl. Its mouth seemed to open at the front somewhat, but after a second of closer inspection, he realized that perfect round circle wasn't its mouth. It was the monster's _Hollow hole!_ In its mask, even, of all the crazy things! The only part of its head visible were ears that curved like horns. And of course, the eyes. Black sclera. Orange irises. Pupils that burned white with power. That and one other thing.

MADNESS!

"It's insane!" Grimmjow whispered, resisting the instinctive urge to draw his sword and attack.

"No, my good Grimmjow."

Aizen turned away from them as he spoke and spread his arms, a circus ringmaster revealing his prized wild specimen to the astonished masses.

"It is _the_ _fenris!"_

At these words, a hideous snicker, like the rolling echo of a thousand mad hyenas, coursed through their souls.

**Shin-shin-shinigarrrrall?**

A feeling settled over Grimmjow without warning. Reaching up he placed a hand around the hole in his abdomen. Something felt wrong. When that thing spoke, it caused the void at his core to respond somehow. He could feel his Hollow hole reacting, pushing out, almost like it was sucking up the insanity that buzzed in every word the unhinged entity uttered. Or perhaps, it was merely clamoring to be more like the unrestrained _vasto lorde_. The _Espada _understood that he was considered quite mad even among his own brethren. But with him, there was always a level of control. Perhaps, he thought while gazing upon the thing, this is what's kept me from becoming like him. Certainly when meeting the other three, there had been a sense of heightened awareness, like their unbelievable power was a whetstone that ground against the sword of his senses, sharpening and refining his own strength to a level that could withstand being in their presence. It had been as if his soul were calling out to him, bathing in the supernovas of spirit and demanding he find a way to match that hungry beauty.

After seeing this...

I might want to find a new goal in life.

Unholy eyes rolled around in their sockets until they settled on the sun flaring brilliantly at the center of the solar system.

**Burning all daydayday and nigggggh tsrk fuallen hophfiend, you return.**

The fenris suddenly slammed its head down, beating it wildly against the moon's surface. All but Aizen looked upon this mad display with revulsion. It then pushed its snout over the dirt, twisting around and rubbing the side of its muzzle frantically back and forth. After a while, this deranged scratching began to slow, until at last the impulse seemed to have run its course.

When it had grown still once more, Aizen took a step closer.

"I'm pleased you remember me, your Lordship. When last we met I promised you that upon my return, I would free you from all your prisons. Are you quite ready to leave this place?"

"Aizen-sama."

The Lord of the Hollows turned a questioning glance back.

Behind him, Kaname Tosen stood with his eyes cast down. His stance was loose and undisturbed, but Grimmjow noticed that one hand remained on the hilt of his katana, much like the arrancar's own.

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I am concerned for your safety. If this course of action is necessary as you say, would you not consent to allow me to perform the procedure in your place? Should anything go wrong, I am expendable, while you are not. It seems to be a risk."

Makes sense, Grimmjow thought. But that's just me. What does ol' Aizen-_sama_ think about it?

Judging by the way he just stood there and stared at the blind swordsman, apparently it was not a good thought.

But just then, the master schemer smiled. Closing his eyes, he chuckled ruefully.

"Tosen, you know I value your opinion, but I am afraid no one else can take my place in this matter. Forgive me for speaking so bluntly before all our friends, but you simply lack the necessary power to activate the hōgyoku fully in this matter. We have spent almost a month experimenting with it, and I am unwilling to wait any longer. Time is a great factor in my calculations." He turned about. "And besides, we are already here. It would be rude to intrude upon a man's home without so much as offering him a gift."

The elegant powerhouse flashed over and stood before the giant Hollow's mouth. It cocked an eye down at him, then looked away, and back again quickly. Grimmjow felt a rush of excitement through his veins. Watch, the thing's gonna eat him, no doubt about it. Bye-bye, King Sōsuke, hello, anarchy.

But this did not happen.

Instead, Aizen held up his hand, in which a polished round diamond gleamed like a star in the palm of God.

"You may have reason to resist this," he spoke calmly, "but I advise against it. You will only be fighting yourself."

Of a sudden the clear gem turned black, seeming to flood with inky reiatsu. The perimeter before their leader began to waver. After a few moments there appeared to be a circle drawn in the air. A wind stirred and swept across the moon's surface for the first time ever, born completely of spiritual power. This sensation increased in potency, until now it was more like a wave crashing down upon them over and over with all the regularity and primal force of the actual tide. Grimmjow couldn't help it. This was simply too much for him in his current state. He drew his sword and shouted the release command.

"Scratch Out, _Pantera!"_

The transformation completed, revealing an armored were-panther. His long blue mane snapped like a banner in the wind, and Jaegerjaques bared his teeth, bringing one black-clawed arm up before his face. Beside him, he noticed Haribel had also drawn her sword. However she merely held the hollowed-out blade straight out before her like a shield. There was no evidence of distress in her bearing. If she was afraid, the _Segunda_ wouldn't allow it to show. So resolved, the two warriors stood and watched this display, unlike any they had previously witnessed.

The immense magic circle had solidified into what might have been a giant version of the hōgyoku. Over the surface of this jewel, images swam. Like a reverse mirror, it showed them what lay within that construct, but in the manner of a funhouse variety. Everything was warped and distorted. Grimmjow could see teeth and claws that flailed out in all directions. A forest of pelts bristled suddenly with a million mouths that reached out screaming for deliverance, before white bone jaws turned back and crashed down upon the host, devouring them all. Low, rumbling snarls more in line with the coughing of a dying dog mixed for a moment with what might have been words- **ingleterra fastodium murt vo baba pro creve tu skache besselee mak sana cthuhlu fhtagn corrar su kokoro!**- and then were replaced with the unmistakable howl of a wolf.

Clearly then, there appeared the outline of the fenris, all in black against a red background. Like a shadow puppet show. It was shuddering, flinging back its head in what might have been pain. All of a sudden the mouth split wide. He thought it was for another howl, but then the ghost-panther realized something was forcing those jaws open. Wider and wider they went, and whatever came out continued its progress, grasping each mandible and unrelentingly pushing them apart. The fenris' mouth began to tear, and its lonely calls were now shrieks of pain. That rent spread backward as the new form began to stand upright within the monster's maw. It was ripping the beast in half, and… it's a man, he realized! That shadow belonged to a man.

The black silhouette placed one foot on the wolf's bottom jaw, heaved itself upright, and the fenris gave one last awful howl as it was torn apart.

Aizen lowered his arm. In front of him, the magic dome began to dissolve at its top, the disintegration traveling downwards in a rush of golden sparks.

When it was gone, a naked man with shoulder-length curly brown hair crouched where once a freakish nightmare had lain.

He was sleekly muscled. A scraggly beard adorned his chin, and black hairs drew lines down his pectorals, arms and legs. There was a Hollow hole in his sternum, and a complete canine jawbone hanging under his chin like a necklace. Those figure's eyes were closed.

The shinigami overlord walked forward until he stood just an inch away. He studied his latest creation appreciatively, as did all.

It was then that something dawned upon Grimmjow.

"Hey!" he growled. "The guy's chained!"

It was true. Gleaming now very faintly, like dewdrops on a spider's web, small links formed lines that wound around the newborn arrancar's body, binding his wrists and ankles, lacing over his shoulders, and even traveling up into his mouth. The chains, for indeed that was what they were, looked unbelievably fragile, more along the lines of something a human lady might wear around her ankle. But as they watched, Aizen reached down to grasp one of them, and gave a sharp yank. The strand went taught, but did not break.

Sōsuke came upright and shook his head admiringly. "Truly remarkable. Even the hōgyoku could not affect it. For this, we must needs look for something more specifically fashioned to the purpose." With that, he glanced behind him. "Grimmjow, please call your _fracción_."

As he obeyed his bidding, the master then called out, "Aaroniero!"

The _Septima Espada_ appeared at his side, and a moment later, Jaegerjaques' men arrayed themselves behind their captain.

The King of Hueco Mundo regarded them all and nodded. "Each of you take up positions where the chains are fastened."

The white-clad delinquent and his crew walked slowly around the three in the middle. He noticed that there were indeed strands of gossamer moonbeams that trailed off from the refashioned fenris' form. Six of them, to be precise. These then seemed to anchor at equidistant points around the perimeter. Approaching one of them, Grimmjow kicked at the spot where it entered the ground. Sure enough, when the dust receded there was a seal of some sort inscribed into the rock.

His comrades were busily locating their own spots. Just then, Shawlong Qufang passed by. The eldest _Número_ gave him a searching look, as if questioning the validity of this venture. His king only gazed back disinterestedly and shrugged, as if to say, 'What are you gonna do'? With a nod in the affirmative, his former hunting partner moved on until he located the only unoccupied seal left. From there, they watched.

It was too late to rethink trusting that man's judgment now.

Aizen was moving around, inspecting everything before proceeding. Tosen and Arruruerie trailed in his shadow. Haribel now stood behind the bowed form of the fenris, her weapon still in hand. At last, the orchestrator of this event apparently deemed everything ready, and the trio returned to the center of the magic hexagram.

Sōsuke had placed a firm hand on the shoulder of the masked _Gillian_ at his side.

"This was the whole reason behind Metastacia's creation. The sacrifice must be done willingly, or it has no effect. All it means is that this form will not be complete from now on, nothing more. Rest assured, there will be no pain. I promised, remember?"

Even covered up as he was, Aaroniero looked more shaken than Grimmjow could ever remember. Couldn't blame him, really. Being asked to give up a part of your body was not something he was particularly keen on, especially after having fought so hard to create it. As he thought this, there came a subtle change in the other _Espada's_ reiatsu. He must have made the switch already. Keep it together, Two-Heads, he thought, or you'll wind up dog food.

Aizen had drawn his own sword. When he did, Arruruerie flinched, and then relaxed.

"Do you feel anything, my old friend?"

"No, Aizen-sama," the composite entity responded in a completely different voice than usual. "I don't feel a thing. I'm ready anytime."

"Good man." The ex-captain crossed to where Tosen stood and removed a large sheet of folded paper from the inside of his robe. He handed it over to his sightless subordinate. Grimmjow couldn't help but snicker at this. Having a blind guy read an incantation! He noticed how one brown ear twitched then, and wondered if his amusement had been heard. Maybe the prick will have something to say to me about this afterwards. A grin crossed his lips. He would relish the opportunity if it presented itself.

"I will keep our sacrifice stable," Aizen was saying. "Be sure not to make any mistakes, lest our activities be noticed by a certain party."

As he turned away, his former student looked up. "Aizen-sama."

Grimmjow could have sworn he saw that proud figure sigh slightly. "Yes, Tosen?"

"There is something I wished to point out." He opened the fragile paper and held it out carefully. "In my previous study, I noticed this line here reads, 'In blessings unparalleled, the pillars stand/ chains of blood, chains of hope/ six houses of nobility strong'." Kaname pointed to the verse in question. "_Six_, Aizen-sama. But there are only five houses, including the Shiba."

Sosuke came about and regarded his underling coolly. He held up five fingers. "Five noble houses." He pointed at the arrancar with the other hand, ticking them off. "Five separate vassals." Then his finger turned upon Grimmjow. "There is a sixth house, though. The house of the King. And we have our own king of the beasts right there. Fitting, yes?" His arms dropped back to his side. "Are there any more questions, Tosen?"

"No, Aizen-sama. I merely wished to make certain this document was accurate."

"Your concern is noted. Now let us begin."

The master magician traipsed over to rejoin the first-generation _Espada._ At a sign from him, Aaroniero removed his left glove. The pale-skinned hand beneath trembled slightly as he reached out, but without any hesitation, the shinigami hybrid did as he was told. The tips of his fingers entered into the Hollow hole of the motionless fenris, where they remained.

Grimmjow knelt down and touched the stone seal. His men followed suit.

Tosen began the chant. It was long and flowery, the way most shinigami spells seemed to be. But this one took _forever!_ After ten minutes of reading, they still weren't done. Granted, Dread Locks was taking his time so as not to make any mistakes, but come _on!_ I could have stalked, killed, and eaten an entire division of shinigami in this time! Grimmjow shifted around to keep a cramp from forming in his legs. Waiting like this was never his strong suit. And to make matters worse, this time, there wasn't even a pyrotechnic display to watch. Nothing happened. They were all just standing around with their thumbs up their butts.

The hunter ground his teeth and resisted the urge to spit, uncertain if this might disrupt the fancy spell or not. He moved his neck from side to side. Had Tosen made a mistake somewhere? Shouldn't at least _something_ have taken place to show that it was working? Seriously, winter could come and we'd still be sitting up here, ain't like listening to this doofus is high on my list of 'Cool Stuff' anyway, we…

Kaname Tosen spoke one final word. He lowered the parchment.

As he did, the chain beneath Grimmjow's hand snapped.

At the same time, Aaroniero Arruruerie's arm exploded from shoulder to fingertips.

"Shit,' the _Quinta_ muttered. It really happened.

Across the way, the _Septima_ gazed down at the bleeding stump of his left limb. The bloody remnants were sucked up into the fenrir's void. He turned to Aizen, who nodded approvingly. While they all watched, a winding glob-like tentacle emerged from Arruruerie's wound and sprouted out to arm's length. Flexing the appendage experimentally, the _Espada_ gazed on it for a moment, then gave up with a sigh. Reaching down, he retrieved the discarded glove and clumsily slipped it back over the gaping fang-filled maw surrounded by stubby tentacles. With this in place, it did look more like a hand, but from now on, he would apparently have to keep the left arm of this form disguised, for it would never again appear to belong to that of the deceased shinigami.

"_Shatter, Kyoka Suigetsu."_

It seemed that any need to confound Aaroniero's senses had passed. Aizen sheathed his sword once more. "Nicely done," he nodded approvingly, and moved over to inspect the fruits of their labors.

The fenris still made no response to any of this. Nodding to Haribel, who remained with blade bared, he reached down and began to slide the unresisting implements off that powerful body. In just a few moments, they all lay scattered in the dust, gleaming like the slime trails of slugs in the bright light.

When the last was removed, Aizen stood up.

They watched.

Broad shoulders flinched. They rolled slightly. With head still bowed, the arrancar raised one leg with a groan. Placing a hand on the upraised knee, he then began to lever himself up.

Behind him, the _Segunda_ aimed her weapon in readiness.

The fenris paused.

There came a giggle, high and crazy.

Then he spun, and without hesitation, Haribel thrust. Her sword took him in the mouth and…

Stopped.

Teeth clamped firmly on the tip of her bared steel, the fenris grinned, orange eyes dancing madly.

"Tuk yur sol ouda mah fayc, lil' sustah," he rasped from deep in his throat.

The spiky-headed blonde cast an inquiring glance at her lord. Aizen nodded. From behind, Grimmjow saw the muscles that had been straining in her shoulders relax, and his superior stepped back, flipping the blade to catch it on one finger and thrust it into the sheathe on her back, all in one movement.

"Retrieve the chains." Grimmjow and his hunting party proceeded to do so. As they did, all heard Aizen say, "Welcome to freedom, fenris."

The creature turned towards the calm-eyed sophisticate. He then rose to his full height, and they looked at one another directly.

"Coyote," the former prisoner said. "Coyote Stark. With an 'S'."

Stark grinned wolfishly, which Aizen returned.

"Let's take you home, _Primera_."

* * *

He was sleeping, when the wind blew across his face in a way that roused him from slumber. Blinking open his eyes, Ginrei Kuchiki strove to determine what had disturbed his rest.

This did not take long.

Standing before him, arms folded over her chest, was a person he recognized instantly.

"Lady Shihoin," he croaked.

She nodded back. "Good afternoon, Kuchiki-sama."

A feeble smile lifted his lips. "You _are_ alive. I thought for sure… they had killed you. Like they did Hiroto."

The regal lioness did not return his smile. She did not move at all, in fact. Only stayed there watching him closely.

"Yoruichi-chan… have you… been to see your father recently?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Give…" and the old man coughed, wheezing, "Give him my best. My old… friend. We discussed your future, he and I. My son is… of marriageable age. You know him. Hiroto. A magnificent composer, his works… are still played today. Byakuya says…"

He stopped.

"Yes. Byakuya. I do recall. His father is… dead. And you trained him well. The mantle has passed to him. He is Lord of the Kuchiki now. May he rule… with courage and conviction. All his days, watch over him, dear lady." And he closed his eyes as a shudder passed through his body.

"How are you feeling, Ginrei Kuchiki?"

His head lolled to one side, and he stirred restlessly in his sedan chair. "Tired. So very tired, yes. I wish to rest. Has my time still not come? I wonder why."

"So do I."

And Yoruichi stepped forward. Cautiously, she reached out and took his hand.

Her father's ancient ally continued speaking as she worked, and the young woman did not miss a word while remaining focused on his every movement.

"I miss the sound of music. They will not play when I ask them to. Disgraceful, to deny me my pleasures. Have I not denied myself for long enough? It is wrong to tell an old man 'no'."

Tears were trickling down his face without cease. She increased the pressure.

"Run," he whispered. "Run to me, child, they are aware of you! Run and tell me what you saw! No, look out, behind you, my daughter, my lieutenant, do you not hear me? The manticore! It is right behind you! Flee, child! _Flee!"_

A horrible premonition stole over Yoruichi.

"I will not! I will not do it! You cannot make me…!" Ginrei's eyes snapped open, filled with rage. His reiatsu flared for a moment. And then it died, as the look on his face turned to fear. "No. Please do not hurt them, they are only children. He is all I have left, and she is… she has his heart. I hear it when he speaks her name. Yoruichi. I drink. Damn you to hell, you treacherous monster! I drink! Do you see? I _drink!"_

When she heard her own name, Yoruichi drew back. Ginrei Kuchiki coughed and sagged forward trembling. She stared down at him, and then her eyes slowly turned to the table beside them.

On it there rested a white porcelain saké flask and cup.

"Mercy, it wasn't you," the noblewoman whispered. "I thought you might have wanted to destroy them all, but… you're just like him. Faithful to your honor, even unto death."

In an instant she was down on one knee beside him, her strong brown hands gripping those aged shoulders.

"Ginrei-sama, look at me," she pleaded. "Look at me, it's Yoruichi Shihoin! Do you remember me? My father told me to trust you back then, when the great houses seemed about to fall apart. I'm sorry I ever doubted you! We need your wisdom now. War has come again! Only you can tell me what I need, because you were involved in it before! Come back to me, please!"

And with that, she traced the symbol of healing on the side of his neck.

The mark glowed.

Nothing. He seemed to have lapsed back into sleep. The spell, whatever it was that had brought him to this state, had proven too strong. A desperate frustration blossomed in her. An instant later, it transformed into hope.

"Byakuya needs you! Do you hear me? Your grandson needs you!"

That silver head flinched. There came a rustling, like dried leaves on the wind.

A red maple leaf flicked across her field of vision. But there were no such trees in this part of the estate.

"War."

Then Ginrei's head turned and he looked at her with utmost lucidity.

"Daughter of Shihoin. Wars are meaningless, unless they resolve the source of the conflict. We knew this, your father and I. You were a young warrior then, little more than a child. You never saw and knew the half of what we did. How the King's family itself sought to wrest power from all the rest, through treachery and bloodshed. It took tremendous sacrifices to finally reveal this to us. The head of that house was a younger cousin of the King, of age with my own son at the time. Shihoin and Kuchiki worked together as the Manor Wars still raged, striving to put together the pieces, and at last we exposed the truth of his intentions. There was never any evidence to prove what I suspected; that in fact it was the King himself who had a hand in this matter, and he had known and approved of his family's work. Perhaps he feared the rise of our clans over his own."

"In any case, when the conflict was resolved, the King declared that to expiate this shame, as he called it, his own house must be destroyed, from root to branch. This might simply have been a way of protecting his authority, to ensure that none could speak out against him. But as I said, there was no evidence, at least not enough to openly question the decision. I myself played the role of executioner for the Lord of that house, after stripping him of his position in the Central 46. I questioned him at the end, but he revealed nothing, and so I took his head, as was my duty. Captains of the Gotei 13 were employed to see the rest of the slaughter was accomplished in a single night."

"Who?" Yoruichi pressed him softly, fearful of breaking whatever control he had regained. "Which divisions did this?"

A muscle in Ginrei's cheek twitched.

"The First. Yamamoto. The Thirteenth. Ukitake. The Second. Shihoin. The Sixth. Kuchiki. The Seventh. Shiba."

Not her own family, or his. That much was certain. Yamamoto? He would never disobey the King. And Ukitake? He would never disobey Yamamoto. Or would he? Hadn't recent events proven that even that son of the old man's heart could turn against his old teacher? But wait! That's something else. What about the other two?

"Not the Fourth? Or the Eighth?"

His lips quirked.

"Shiba."

Yoruichi frowned. Was he slipping away again?

"No, you already said them, Ginrei-sama. What about Unohana and Kyōraku? Were they involved in this?"

He didn't respond.

She reached out to touch the healing mark once more.

As she did, Ginrei's hand shot up and clamped down on her wrist.

This time, the strength of his reiatsu almost knocked her away. His eyes were burning when he turned to look up at her. For just a moment, in the face of that power and clarity, she wondered if she had not been mistaken and she was indeed in the presence of the enemy.

"_Shiba blood holds the sacrifice."_

It wasn't his voice. Not really. Similar, but all the same…

She realized then. It was not just Ginrei. This was…

His zanpakutō.

They stared at her out of that body's wasted sockets. Both of them, blade and master.

"_The false king… has broken the seal of Shiba. Their sacrifice has proven in vain. The Great Wolf has slipped the chain Gleipnir, and so…Ragnarok. Doom of the Gods."_

What? What was this?

"_The Raven God… has only one eye…Their venom is the product of the King's treachery. Four children of the false traitor… Hell's Ruler…World Serpent…Dead Man… and…"_

A strangled noise emerged from Ginrei's throat, as if he was choking on his own words. Sweat began to pour off his face, and Yoruichi reached out to embrace him swiftly. He had said it! They were right! It couldn't be just a coincidence!

"Who is it? Fight the magic! Tell me their name! Dammit, _tell me!_ _Who is the fourth traitor?"_

His mouth came up, and…

He whispered a spell into her ear.

Yoruichi drew back, surprised. Ginrei looked up at her, and she could see there, in his face, a plea for help.

"Hiroto makes… wonderful music, do you not think… Lady Shihoin?"

She watched him for a while longer, hoping against hope that something more would come. He was strong and clever, he had resisted worse than this in his life.

But after a few minutes in which he continued to mumble and reminisce, it was clear that the curse had won.

The flash goddess stayed with him then, listening to his stories, until he fell asleep. She set him back in his cushioned comfort and drew the blanket up to his chin. The old man looked worn and beaten, and she cursed whatever wicked soul had conspired to do this to him.

At that thought, her eye fell on the flask of wine.

Picking it up, she sniffed experimentally. Shihoin studied the unmarked bottle thoughtfully. Her coming here had not provided the answers she had hoped. But then, perhaps she had gained something. A shorter list of potential candidates. Any who might have participated in the slaughter of the sixth noble house, and could have taken the opportunity that presented itself.

I have evidence, now, she thought. It's in my hand. This flask works on a sleeping kidō command. Whoever made it had to recite the incantation to the victim in order for it to take effect. That means it wasn't Aizen or either of his men, they've been gone for almost a month. It was someone still in Seireitei who has been drugging Ginrei.

"I know you exist," she whispered. "I might not know who you are, but I'm going to find out, and sooner than you think."

So saying, she vanished.

* * *

'_What's wrong?'_

'_I've got it. Definite proof. The trio's a quartet.'_

'_Incredible. We're smarter than I ever realized. I don't suppose…?'_

'_No. Whoever it is, they covered their tracks. But Ginrei gave me more than that. He confirmed there were more captains involved, at least at the end. It's not impossible that others had a hand in it as well.'_

'_So you're certain it isn't Ginrei Kuchiki now?'_

'_Positive. It seemed to make sense on its face. I knew he blamed the Chamber for his son's death, and he was definitely a major player in the Manor Wars. He's powerful and above reproach, seemed like the perfect fit for a traitor. But they've been drugging him. I think because he found out who they are. And they're still here.'_

'_I'm sorry. I know you always thought highly of him. Do you think there's anything we can do?'_

'_I'll send a sample. You and Tessai can analyze it, but my guess is it's a lost cause. The curse is too strong for any death god magic to break, and it's been eating at him for too long. I'm afraid we'll be getting no more help from that quarter. It might kill him.'_

'_So where does that leave us?'_

'_In a bad way. He said something that I'll have to check on with Shiba. It could be the worst news yet.'_

'_And you call me morbid.'_

'_Just keep your eyes peeled. They know where you are now, don't forget.'_

'_You happen to figure out what clued them in to that, by any chance?'_

'_Yes. I'll tell you later. You're too upset right now.'_

'_Me?'_

'_You. Don't play innocent, your handwriting always gives it away. Just keep safe, give Tessai and the kids my best, and try to stay out of trouble.'_

'_Same to you.'_

_

* * *

_

Feeling rather tired and annoyed, Rukia settled her hands in her lap and attempted to smile reassuringly.

Across from her, the small figure's eyes managed to grow even wider, a feat she would have believed impossible just a moment before. He looked as if he thought she might fall upon and devour him at any moment. It reminded her of someone. Could the timid fellow be of relation to Hanatarō Yamada? The memory of that meek, curious, brave little janitor caused her to look on this messenger in a more compassionate light. To try and allay his concerns, she gestured to the table set before them.

"Please, help yourself to some refreshments, Tsubokura-san. You look as though you could use a chance to rest."

At this wholly innocent remark, he reached up and patted self-consciously at his unkempt brown hair. Rukia noticed the small pigtail tied at the front tended to stiffen whenever he grew uncomfortable, which seemed to be all the time. Though his eyes darted over the spread of honey-rich cakes and various sweetmeats with something akin to romantic longing, Rin Tsubokura made no move to accept the offer.

"Oh, th-that's very kind, but, I really shouldn't."

Annoyance came back full force.

"I _insist_."

The ruling lady managed to put equal parts irritation, imperious command and dire threat into just two words. Apparently this was how you got people from the R&D Bureau to obey you, for Rin immediately stuffed a large pecan dumpling and a handful of Turkish delight into his mouth. He looked like a chipmunk sitting there sweating and shaking miserably. After a heroic attempt to chew with his cheeks so full, the wretched researcher gave up and simply swallowed the contents in one gulp. Rukia swore she could see his neck bulge out as it traveled down to his stomach.

"Several of these are based upon confections one would find in the modern mortal world. Do you like them?" she inquired pleasantly.

He gave a jerky little nod.

"Something to drink?"

"Yes, thank you, my lady."

He learned fast. At a sign from Rukia, one of the servants hovering at her back brought forth a tray with beverages. She knelt beside him to proffer the selection, but Rin, who looked particularly ill at ease, could not seem to look even a maidservant in the eye now, and reaching out, he simply grabbed the first container that came to hand without bothering to turn his head.

Seeing the unwitting choice he had made, his hostess could not help but smile in amusement, but covered it up by bringing a fan before her face.

"Now, then. Let us move to the purpose of your visit."

"Yes, Your Highness." He seemed relieved to be over the social niceties. "As I said, I was sent to…"

He seemed to notice for the first time what he was holding. Rin stared in puzzlement at the rectangular container. His wide glistening eyes came up to hers, as if hoping she might dispel the mystery surrounding this object.

"Juice-box," she supplied helpfully, still hiding behind the fan. "One of the rarest beverages my home has to offer. You will not find its like anywhere in Soul Society."

"I… I'm honored, my lady." The kid managed a sickly smile, and proceeded to inspect the inconspicuous container while continuing his report. "Umm, yes. Well, as it happens, I have…" Rin upended the box to inspect the bottom, then hastily set it back for fear of spilling all over the floor. When not so much as a drop came out, he seemed to grow even more puzzled. "…good news! Yes, good news. You see, in regards to the sample you provided us, we have isolated the precise nature of the compound and traced its origins. It is rice wine brewed one-hundred and fifty-seven years ago from the…"

He shook the carton slightly, now starting to sweat once more in the face of her intense examination of his efforts. For her part, Rukia was howling with laughter on the inside. "… 'Plum Creek Mountain' brewery in the Thirteenth ring of Northern Rukongai. The specific batch was traced to a sale made to a representative of the Eighth division at that time, one Lisa Yadomaru, a former lieutenant. Now, as you may know, there was evidence of magical tampering with the liquor…" Rin had located one of the thick cardboard folds that comprised the package's makeup and was attempting to peel it back, without success. "…which after finally locating we analyzed to determine its nature and purpose. There is no intrinsically harmful factor to its design…"

Ah! He had located and detached the straw. However, now there were two objects he could not seem to open. "In fact, the apparent effect of the spell is to act as a neural catalyst. If ingested, the serum will provoke a temporary malaise upon the victim. The actual purpose of this…" Twisting and bending the flimsy wrapped item. "…is to set up the body to be highly receptive to other specific spell structures that can be… administered at a later date. Like a vaccine in the mortal realm… only reversed. However, the strength of the compound was very… diluted, we believe to prevent non-intensive examinations from locating it in the wine. Only someone who was in a delicate physical… state, like recovering from wounds… to the… soul… would…"

At this point, Tsubokura fell silent and simply gazed blankly at the uncooperative juice box and its implement. While he was so deep in thought, Rukia at last decided she had enjoyed this situation enough. Reaching out, the informed observer deftly plucked both items from his grip.

"Have you been able to determine who cast the spell?" she inquired while removing the straw from its packaging.

"No, my lady." He was absorbed in watching her efforts, apparently too curious to be afraid. "It was made in such a way to avoid leaving any maker's mark. There is nothing more we can learn from it."

"I see." With that, Kuchiki poked the sharp tip into the small silver hole, completing the transformation from sealed treasure into tasty beverage.

"That's amazing, Kuchiki-sama!"

"Hmmm," she murmured, glancing up. Rin appeared to be much more relaxed now, as if the application of a solved puzzle had done wonders for his peace of mind. It was actually rather charming how his face lit up and become so innocent.

_I just had a very cruel idea._

What a coincidence. So did I.

With that, she raised the straw to her lips and took a sip.

Rin gave a start.

"It is quite good, actually," Rukia said contemplatively as she lowered the item. Then, without further ado…

She held it back out to him.

The lab-rat froze. His eyes went from the box, to her hand, to her face, then swiftly away, back to the box, towards the guards around the room…

Then, having clearly realized that he had no choice in the matter, he accepted the offering with trembling fingers.

"Th-thank you, my L-L-Lady."

"I am very grateful for the pains your organization has endured in shedding light upon this topic. You have my thanks, Rin-san." She spoke calmly and without inflection, as if there was nothing awkward that had just taken place. Certainly none of the servants reacted with any sign of discomfort by word or deed. "That was one part of the report I was expecting. Does Captain Kurotsuchi have any news of progress made on the second half of our arrangement?"

He had yet to try the juice himself, only held it somewhat gingerly between his fingers. "My Lady, the captain developed twenty-seven different theories as to how one might achieve the end result you wish. He has eliminated fifteen of them, however it is Mayuri-sama's opinion that the current hypothesis is the most plausible out of the prospective remainder. My master requests that you attend upon him at the earliest convenience to observe the results of these experiments, so that the lady may determine for herself if they meet her expectations."

Rukia gazed meaningfully at her courier. Another trip to the madhouse. Ah, well, I knew what I was getting into when I began this venture. The sooner I get it over with, the better. Now, when would be a good time to visit…?

Apparently while she was absorbed in pondering her schedule, Rin came under the impression that her unblinking focus on him was a silent remonstrance for his not having tasted the previously-sampled beverage. He then jammed the straw into his mouth and proceeded to suck the thing dry in two seconds flat.

"Your master has my wholehearted congratulations for his triumphs so far. If it does not inconvenience the good captain, I believe I may call upon him at midday tomorrow. Please relay the notice of my arrival, and give my regards to all those concerned in this project." The noblewoman stood up then, and Tsubokura leapt to follow suit. His face was red, and the box was still clutched tightly in his white-knuckled fists.

"I will do as you command, Lady Kuchiki!"

"A pleasure meeting you, Rin Tsubokura. If you will excuse me, the guards will show you out. Please feel free to take any of these delicacies back to your fellows, with my compliments."

With that, she turned and swept from the room.

_That was more fun than I expected. What an adorable little guy!_

Not the word I would have chosen, but yes, much more pleasant than I imagined anyone working for Mayuri Kurotsuchi could ever be.

_You think he'll tell anyone about what you did?_

I think he will perform a memory-wipe on himself the moment he leaves the manor, to keep from telling anyone.

_It won't be much longer now, I don't think. I can't wait to rejoin you!_

As do I.

After a while, Rukia made her way back to her brother's office, where she had been working diligently before being called away. The idea of her approaching manifestation of Sode no Shirayuki back into a blade had served to lift her heart somewhat. But upon stepping back into the chamber following the attendants opening the doors, the full weight of her duties come crashing down. Right now, she was attempting to puzzle out the family finances in terms of several other impending projects under her supervision. According to his physicians, Byakuya was no longer in any danger in terms of his health, and would be resuming his role as the Lord of the Kuchiki sometime in the next few days. Provided anyone could find him, he seemed to have a tendency of disappearing from his sickbed for reasons unexplained. At any rate, before then, she hoped at least to have managed to formulate her actions into a readily defendable form.

Seating herself at the desk piled high with notices of payment and contracts both fulfilled and noticeably delinquent, the earnest young woman began a more thorough accounting. Drawing upon her rapidly returning magical resources, she spoke a few mantras. Several dozen rows of glowing orange digits and characters appeared in front of her, to begin flitting rapidly through successive changes. All she had to do was think of a name and it was located for her. Items specified as being of interest to her current search were highlighted in green. This was a manner of information retrieval she had picked up from her kidō instructor, Momo Hinamori. The lieutenant had a fair share of paperwork as part of her daily responsibilities, and had developed this system to avoid having to go searching blindly through stacks and stacks of records. It was marvelously efficient, and not for the first time, Rukia regretted being unable to thank the merry soul responsible, seeing as how she remained confined to the Fourth under emergency observation.

Whenever a pertinent resource appeared, the death god reached up to touch those lines, and the corresponding article materialized at her seat. It was rather astonishing the sheer enormity of names and alliances that were flitting across her field of vision. The Kuchiki had dealings with so many different people, businesses, and entities, it would have been impossible to try and do this by herself.

It shall be a most welcome relief when it will no longer be my responsibility to handle this chore, she reflected. I haven't been able to even get in some basic hand-to-hand training with Yumichika since I returned, and considering I'm still without a sword, I should think that…

Rukia stopped.

Hold on. What was that?

Did I just see what I thought I saw, or was it my imagination?

She concentrated, and the panoramic display of information rewound. There, I was right. It is…

Rukia studied the information closely.

As she did, her jaw fell open slightly, eyes going wide with shock.

No. It couldn't be. It just… couldn't. I'm reading this wrong, I must be. That can't be what it says.

But it was.

She read it over four more times to be sure.

Rukia Kuchiki gaped in absolute disbelief at what she had just stumbled across. A cold so intense it actually hurt settled in her stomach.

This is… impossible. It has to be. I have to…

_Rukia, don't jump to conclusions._

I'm not.

And with that, she leapt up and strode from the room.

The servants dogged her steps immediately, but she took no notice of their presence. All her thoughts were focused on one thing, and one thing only.

I'm not jumping to conclusions. I am going to get to the bottom of this myself. And I am not going to be angry when I see him. No, I am going to speak to him reasonably and calmly, as befits a person of my station.

* * *

"…so he tries to join the Onmitsukidō to get the lieutenant's post at the Second. He insists on wearing those shades to the trial, and it's at night! Wound up almost assassinatin' the instructor by mistake! Then Iba goes and joins the Kidō Corps. For two months he's memorizing spells, chanting rhymes and dancin' round like a goof! He'd prob'ly still be there if the Seventh hadn't lost theirs, then he hot-footed it on over, enrolled, and in just three weeks he's…!"

Sitting among a mob of fighters from the Eleventh listening to a comrade reciting this tale, Yumichika Ayasegawa looked up from his drink as a shadow fell over him and smiled with genuine pleasure.

"Why, Rukia-chan! What brings you…?"

She hauled off and punched him in the mouth.

Ayasegawa's head jerked back, and then slowly came forward. All sound in the previously raucous room had ceased. The way he looked at her then…

It was like he had been expecting this.

That only served to make her more furious.

"You _lied to me!"_ she hissed.

Her trainer (_friend!_) reached up and touched his lips, inspecting his fingers for blood. Finding nothing, he set down his cup and came to his feet. Rukia actually took a step back, fearful. Sweet heaven, am I really… afraid? That Yumichika might _strike_ me? Just yesterday, I couldn't have thought of anyone less likely. But that was then. Today I know, he's…

Just then, a faint smile lifted one corner of his mouth. But there was no such response in his eyes.

"Rukia-chan," he spoke softly, "Please, come with me."

He turned and walked away from her then without bothering to look back. Standing there all alone now, the black-clad shinigami felt unbearably self-conscious at how many people were staring at her. They seemed quite shocked by what had just happened, which was unusual, considering that there had been several fights going on when she came in. These were the most prolific and vociferous war-mongers in all the afterlife. They routinely risked their lives in combat with Hollows on an almost daily basis and either came home laughing or dead.

Unbeknownst to her, however, even among these heroic warriors, there were three rules that were never, _ever _broken.

#1. _Never surrender_.

#2. _No sweets for the vice-captain after midnight._

#3. _Do NOT hit Yumichika Ayasegawa in the face._

Addendum to Rule #3: _He'll kill you._

She left that hall, and several men and women bowed their heads respectfully.

"Dead god walking," one of them muttered.

Coming out into a covered lane that ran along the side of this fourth-story establishment, Rukia spied her quarry strolling off to her left. She jogged to catch up with him, her short legs requiring two steps for each of his. When she did close the gap and slowed down, however, no words were spoken between them. This was unusual in and of itself. Normally he, at the very least, could be counted upon to fill the void with airy chatter and light-hearted exhortations on his favorite topic: himself.

It was this, more than anything, that made her feel immeasurably guilty.

But in the face of this there was also some intense anger. Rukia was sick of all the lies that seemed to hang off every tree limb and lurk in every shadow of the shinigami's stronghold. Was there absolutely no one in here with an honest face? Were they all covering up crimes and misdeeds of one form or another? Just what did she have to do to get someone to talk straight to her around here?

About ten minutes later, they had reached what she recognized as the quarters reserved for officers of this division. Hardly anyone was around. It would seem that even the seated members in the Eleventh preferred to bunk down with all the other soldiers in the common barracks. According to rumor (see _Kotetsu, Kiyone_), Captain Zaraki slept out in the open on a bed of nails by the sparring fields, with Lieutenant Kusajishi curled up in a cat-box beside him. It was crazy to think it. But then, so was Captain Zaraki.

At last the two of them stopped by a plain door with the kanji for '5' written on it. Ayasegawa gestured for her to enter, looking quite calm and disinterested. Like he was trying very hard not to feel anything. The suspicious look she gave him: did it hurt? No point in asking, he wouldn't admit to it anyway.

I came to get the answer straight from him. So resolved, Rukia entered the dwelling.

A glass bead curtain with a picture of a flamboyantly-displayed peacock cast onto its strands hung at the end of a short hallway. After removing her shoes and passing through the clacking strands, the wary warrior stepped into a room out of a Persian fairy tale. Silk curtains of various hues hung from the ceiling in arcs. Plump cushions with gold tassels and precious metal thread designs sewn in were arranged neatly around a small pool in the center of the room where flower petals and small glowing round candles floated. This gave enough light to see your surroundings but left much of the room in shadow. What looked like a wooden swing on two thick velvet ropes was hanging over this. A carved sandalwood cabinet dominated the center of the far wall, its scent faintly tickling the nostrils. Several large mahogany dressers with burnished copper fittings were arranged around the other empty spaces, their tops holding a few vials of perfume or bottles of strong drink. Halfway to the ceiling the walls were set with small alcoves that held more candles, next to which hung a few dozen ornamental swords and daggers of various make and origin, all with intricate designs on haft and sheathe. Mirrors topped the dressers or hung from any other available surface, allowing one to see your every movement reflected back at you.

Rukia had been in this boudoir twice before. It was rather enchanting, but always made her just a little uneasy, imagining Yumichika entertaining more intimate company in such a setting. She never asked him what went on in this room when she wasn't here, or with whom. Curiosity only went so far. And her dandified friend was actually a rather private person in some ways.

How much do I know about him, she asked herself?

After today, clearly not enough.

Turning back about, she found the pleasure garden's owner standing behind her. Candlelight reflected off his hair and danced in his purple eyes. That same expression of disinterest lingered. It actually reminded Rukia of her brother Byakuya. Not the new Nii-sama, the old one; the man who looked at everything as if it could all die and he would not care a whit. This comparison served to stoke the wrath she felt inside her, and she got right to the heart of the matter.

"My brother paid you!"

The feathers woven into his lashes rose a fraction, but nothing more. He did not speak.

"Don't try to deny it!" Although really, he hadn't. "I saw my family's account books! Your name was in it!"

Yumichika looked at her for a time, and she stared right back, waiting for him to make an excuse or offer some kind of explanation.

Instead what he did was turn about and move to a cabinet. Opening one of the drawers, he removed a tin of salve and proceeded to dab it onto his slightly swollen lower lip, keeping his eyes locked firmly on a mirror.

This was unlike him. Usually you could count on the most extravagant reaction possible when it came to this battle-loving beautician. The unnatural silence only served to strain his accuser's already jangled nerves even further. Glancing around, she took stock of her surroundings and the relative distance to the exit before continuing her invective. It certainly would have been nice to have a soul cutter to threaten him with right about now.

"You've been receiving monthly payments from our family for years. Ever since you started training me! You let me go on thinking that you were not a part of my brother's dealings, but you were just another one of his hired tutors and spies! Did you report my training progress to him? Did he tell you to handle me with care, so as not to damage the little noble? How long have you been in his payroll, really? Back at the swamp, was it then that he first approached you? When did this all begin? _Dammit, Yumichika!"_ she screamed when he continued to perform his ministrations. "Talk to me! Tell me what to believe, because I don't know what's true and false in my head anymore, I'm so mixed up, nothing I believed in is the truth! Everyone here has been wearing a mask, everybody lies to me, everybody…!"

"I never lied to you."

Rukia stopped to draw breath.

"What?"

Ayasegawa turned back around. Now he was smiling again, but it was a candle's flame compared to the brilliance of his regular beaming face.

"When I asked Renji Abarai who the prettiest girl in the entire Thirteenth division was, he said you. That was the first I ever heard of you, and the second thing you asked me about on our first mission together, if you'll recall. So I didn't lie."

Was his memory really that good? She certainly couldn't recall precisely what the second thing she might have asked him was, they had so many conversations since that day, and so much had happened, who could remember what was said or by whom?

_You called him a 'pretty idiot'. I remember that much._

Don't confuse me anymore than I already am! This is about him, not me!

_If you say so._

She was feeling a good deal calmer though, and proceeded to take a seat on the floor. Her thought process continued apace. All right, maybe it wasn't a secret conspiracy that brought them together that day. But if not, then what was it? Wait, maybe now would be a good time to get some things clear.

"Did Renji ask you to look out for me? Is he the one who arranged for you to tutor me? For that matter, did _anybody_ tell you to keep an eye on me? Tell the truth, now." For a heart-stopping moment, the image flashed through her mind of Gin Ichimaru pointing her out to Ayasegawa as they stood with arms draped over the others' shoulders in chummy fashion, laughing and smiling while she stood unawares.

_Mercy, who served you a fat slice of paranoia today?_

Can it! I have every right to be suspicious.

But even while asserting this truth to herself, the look her bob-haired confidante was giving her made Rukia feel equally ridiculous and unworthy.

"Oh, Rukia-chan," he chuckled, shaking his head. "This has been a rather trying couple of months for you, hasn't it? I suppose we should have gotten things out in the open long ago, if they were going to wind up causing you this much distress. So in the interest of minimizing your grief, let me make a few things perfectly clear."

He moved to squat before her, holding up one finger. "First off, no one told me to spy on you. Renji-kun talked about you almost non-stop, that is how I came to know so much. And I never told anyone anything about you that might have come back to hurt you. That is the truth."

She was about to question him, when Yumichika held up another finger. "Second, the one who offered to train you was me. Your brother did not seek me out, I sought _him_ out. After Kaien Shiba died, Renji informed me that you were quite despondent at the loss of your instructor and friend. I decided _entirely on my own_ to help you."

"Why?" the dumbfounded girl asked suddenly.

And this time when he smiled, it was just like old times.

"Because Rukia-chan needed me. I knew what you were capable of, and more, what you could become. I decided that I wanted to help you become as beautiful on the battlefield as you were in every other area of life. The idea of contributing to something so splendid and worthwhile filled my heart with joy, and so I went before the Kuchiki prince and offered my services as your fighting tutor. It took a great deal of effort to assure your overprotective sibling that my intentions were decent and in no way intended to soil the lady's virtue. I would have had an easier time convincing _my_ captain to let me style his hair!"

He winked at her then, and in spite of her resolve, Rukia found herself smiling.

Ayasegawa's eyes twinkled as he continued. "Once an agreement was reached, he insisted on paying me. I made it clear to him that I was very well off and did not do this for the money, but he insisted that a fee be rendered, so as not to have any whiff of indiscretion. And I suppose that's Byakuya Kuchiki's way of binding someone to his will. I can't speculate, I don't really know the man. On a side note, Rukia-chan, in regards to your earlier comment, I never once went easy on you in our lectures. In fact, after the first one, your brother sought me out and informed me that while our arrangement would stand, if ever he felt I had gone too far in terms of violence on your person again, he would kill me without fail. I responded that you were capable of taking anything I could dish out. You are, in fact, quite sturdy, my little dancing flower. A lieutenant-level fighter would have a hard time besting you, in my expert opinion."

_Well, he's back to flirting with you. Things can't be that bad._

"So while your brother-in-law did pay me, he did not, as you put it, 'buy' me. I never spent a penny of the funds he provided me with, they are all safely locked away in reserve for _you_, Rukia-chan. Not that you would ever need it, but I decided long ago that since it was money tendered for your improvement, then the best use it could be put to was one you decided upon. Is there anything at this moment you've been dying to buy but never felt it was worth it?"

Faced with this question, Rukia blinked and thought for a moment. After a while, she managed to come up with, "Well… I've never had a pet before."

"I don't count?" he responded quickly, and Rukia broke out laughing.

"Yumichika-san!" She hit him affectionately. With the sudden contact, though, the seriousness of their situation set in once more, and her features fell. "I'm sorry. I… shouldn't have hit you back there. It was childish and stupid."

"No, you shouldn't have. And yes, it was. But I understand the reason behind it."

Abashed, Rukia glanced up at him. "Can you forgive me?"

At this, Yumichika shook his head. "No." When her face fell, he quickly added, "But only because I never held it against you in the first place." Reaching out, he placed a warm hand over her own. "You've been through hell lately, Rukia-chan," the sad-eyed combatant spoke with sympathy. "I'm sorry to have been a burden to you, even for a while."

Her head dropped with a sigh.

"I spent nearly every day in that cell trying to resign myself to death," Rukia murmured. "Convince myself I deserved it, you know? To do this, I thought constantly about all the people I had hurt and failed. My friends from childhood. Kaien Shiba. Even Ichigo." A wan smile drifted over her face, and Ayasegawa did not fail to notice the subtle change in her overall demeanor. "When I realized that he had really come to save me, it was like… he was right there. Like he had just slapped me in the face and told me what an idiot I was. I tried to deny it, but even while I was wallowing in misery, that little bit of hope never went away. Right up to the end. It hurt more than anything, and I was ashamed of myself for clinging to life so desperately."

"What's to be ashamed of? There were lots of people fighting for your life, do you think they felt ashamed for it? Why, even Byakuya Kuchiki put his heart on the line for you at the end! A good thing, too," he added cheerfully.

She cast him a searching look. "Why's that?"

"I'd have had to kill him if he hadn't," Yumichika drawled.

She gave a snort, and Ayasegawa flashed a huge grin.

Then he said, "I would have slit his throat."

When she regarded him strangely, he just smiled, then turned and began teasing his hair in one of the mirror's reflections. "How is your dear brother, anyway? You looking forward to him running things again while you resume the role of the loveliest lady to never have to work a day in her life?"

He was just teasing her, as usual. But the joke had hit its mark. "Yes, actually. I will be glad to quit this 'Your Ladyship' business. I thought people were uncomfortable around me before! Even Ichigo was walking on eggshells for the first few days, can you believe it?"

Continuing with his stylings, Yumichika only offered, "I cannot."

"I only wish," Rukia continued forlornly, glancing down at her side where a scabbard no longer hung, "I actually did have a job waiting for me right away. After tomorrow, I needn't concern myself with paperwork and wedding invitations anymore. But I can't go straight back to being a shinigami. They won't allow me to stop by the mortal world to visit… my friends. The rules state that we need to have a soul cutter available to perform our duties. You can't even do a konsō without it, though perhaps killing Hollows would still be an option."

"Certainly is for my crew. Come to think of it, I don't believe any of our boys even know _how_ to do a soul burial! Why don't you ask to sign up with the Eleventh for a while, Rukia-chan?"

"No, thank you!" she shot back huffily. "I have no intention of participating in a round of 'You Chop Me, I Chop You', Renji told me all about how the Eleventh amuses itself. Besides," and Rukia Kuchiki closed her eyes then, taking a deep breath, "I will go back into battle with my zanpakutō beside me, or not at all. It's just a matter of waiting for my energy to return to the proper levels. I can bear with it a few more days."

I can. But that doesn't mean I won't still be miserable until then.

Then something strange happened.

Rukia felt someone's hands on her waist.

Surprised, she looked up to find Yumichika lifting her off the floor. Automatically her hands moved to grasp his forearms for security. He stood up fully, bringing her to eye level. For a moment they just stared at one another, her violet orbs round with astonishment and his gleaming brightly.

Then the brazen warrior stepped forward and settled his burden gently down on the swing at the center of the room.

Swaying faintly back and forth, Rukia grasped the velvet lines, her feet drifting just a few inches over the pool. He had stepped back and stood watching now with an intensity that caused color to rise to her cheeks as she sat open-mouthed like a songbird in a cage.

"Ah," Ayasegawa sighed whimsically, "What an absolutely breathtaking sight. And me without my camera for once!"

She was just about to make a retort to this, when he held up a manicured hand.

"Rukia-chan, do you still trust me?"

No hesitation now. "Of course."

"Can we trust you to keep a secret and never tell another living soul?"

We? Who's…? Never mind, it's not important. Not more secrets, she almost wanted to moan. But seeing the oddly serious look on his face, the dangling damsel responded back with, "If you want me to, I will."

"Good. Then please hold out your hands."

She obeyed, and once he judged her ready, Yumichika unsheathed his sword. She flinched slightly, but otherwise made no move.

_We really do trust him._

It's true.

Yumichika Ayasegawa held out his soul cutter to one side.

"_Split and Deviate…_" he whispered.

What?

"_Ruri'iro Kujaku!"_

The outstretched blade glowed, and then burst into luminous blue-green shoots that resembled a peacock's tail feathers. Before she could even cry out, those bonds wound around both her and the wielder.

_Nice to finally meet you, gorgeous._

Huh?

_Likewise, my beauty._

Who the heck is _that?_

As she thought this, a soft pulse of energy suddenly radiated out through her being. Surprised, Rukia looked over at Yumichika. His eyes were glowing with the same weird light as had his weapon. More strength flowed into her, alien, but almost immediately adapting to her body. She could feel the magical bonds feeding power into her in careful increments, and knew that Ruri'iro Kujaku was working to ensure there was no reaction to this transfer. Her eyes drifted closed. The sound of her heartbeat became audible, but louder than usual, and she realized this was because their souls were flowing at the same pace. It felt like she had slipped into a soothing bath, and unconsciously the awestruck maiden let out a soft moan.

A tingle of pleasure coursed through her, and it was impossible to say from which of them it originated.

Then the feeling of togetherness began to fade.

"Rukia-chan."

She didn't want to open her eyes, she had to hold onto this feeling, this closeness, this…

And she felt lips brush gently against her cheek.

"Look down, Rukia-chan."

She obeyed the command.

There, resting in her outstretched palms, was the unmistakable shape of her own zanpakutō, Sode no Shirayuki.

Dumbfounded past anything resembling disbelief, she could only gape.

_It's rude to stare, don't you know. You can give it a rest, it really is me._

But… how?

_Your soul energy is at normal levels. He gave it back to you._

She quickly realized that 'how' didn't matter. Rukia hugged the warm blade tightly to her chest. The tears that came now had nothing to do with sorrow.

_Remember your promise, little Rukia._

Looking up, she caught a glimpse of fading ley-lines of energy, and nothing more. The teary-eyed girl was alone in the room.

With a gasp she looked around, but there was no black-clad popinjay hiding in the shadows. Rukia leapt off the swing, landing in the pool up to her ankles. She splashed out and dashed to the door, tearing through the screen and running out into the daylight in her socks.

She looked all about. Nothing. Not even a tell-tale flicker of reiatsu to mark his passing.

A moment later her head felt unbelievably light and giddy, and Rukia found herself slumping down to rest with her back against a wall, the hilt of her saber nuzzling against her cheek. A high like she had never experienced coursed through her veins, and she wiggled and giggled uncontrollably.

_If anyone saw you like this, they'd think you're in love._

What?

Oh. Right.

_To be continued…_


	19. Aftermath: Cougars on the Prowl

"My captain can write while walking. Did you know that? Not that other people can't too, but when he does it, his penmanship is as steady as a rock! It's so beautiful, if you saw two examples he had written while standing up and sitting down, you couldn't tell them apart. He's just that amazing!"

Kiyone Kotetsu's eyes were blazing with adoration in a way that almost made Kūkaku Shiba feel guilty. Apparently the same could not be said for Yoruichi, who reached over to fill the little shinigami's cup once more.

"Bottoms up! To health!" the feline fugitive declared, and they all proceeded to toast.

"Shiba!" the scantily clad technician bellowed before chugging it down.

"Ukitake-shama!" the girl slurred just a tad, but got the booze to her lips all the same.

This is like clubbing a baby seal, Shiba thought. It's wrong no matter how good it feels.

"You certainly are in the know about your captain," Yoruichi purred then. Ah, here we go. She's finally getting down to business.

"Yep," Kiyone giggled. "I know him, I do. Not in the sense of sleeping with him of course, that… that would be just wrong! He's like my father! And I'm his daughter. He'd never do that to me. You two, maybe. You guys both have incredible boobs, do you know that?" She stopped. "Wait, I'm sorry, I got off on the topic of my captain again. What were we talking about before?"

"The daily report logs for shinigami," Kūkaku replied helpfully, settling back and adjusting the burnoose around her tangle of long black hair.

"YES!" their drinking buddy exclaimed gleefully. Then she sat bolt upright. "I mean NO! I don't read those! Every one of them! I know I'm not supposed to, they're made only for the eyes of lieutenants, captains, and the people who wrote them. But I'm kind of a lieutenant! Ever since Kaien-fukutaichou died, me and Donkey-Face have been…"

Of a sudden the girl trailed off. She turned horrified eyes on where Kūkaku was sprawled, head propped up on her one good arm. "Shiba-san, I'm so sorry, I'm an idiot, mentioning your brother like that, we all loved him here, he was so nice to me, everybody really, when he was killed I thought the whole place might fall apart!"

The disgraced noblewoman leveraged herself up and bonked the girl right on the forehead.

"No apologies!" she snapped. "We didn't come over here to cry in our beer, we came to drink it! And didn't my brother tell me that you were the most prolific drinker in the Thirteenth?"

That wasn't all he had said about the then-Fifth seat, but that could be left for later.

"And the most well-informed," Shihoin chimed in again. "I don't think anything gets by our little Kiyone-chan here."

"Nope!" A violent shake of the head caused the person in question to sway dizzily for a moment. "I know EVERYTHING! Anybody finds stuff out, they come to me! Then I tell everybody else, the captains, the floor-sweepers, the gate guardians, Everybody! It's a beautiful system," she mused, and then reached forward and dipped her cup into the brew, sending some of it sloshing out the sides. "I'm called the Mistress…!"

As she did, Yoruichi leaned in and whispered in her ear.

The girl froze.

Her eyes came unfocused, then slowly closed.

Sitting in the seated officer's room, both women waited patiently. After about a minute, the ex-captain spoke.

"Kiyone. Are you listening to me?"

Nothing at first. Then a slow nod of the head. "Yes."

Yoruichi glanced at Kūkaku, who raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'What? I did my part, it's all up to you now'. With that, the golden-eyed shapeshifter settled in and assumed a serious visage.

"Did you read Kuchiki Rukia's journal entries while she was on patrol in Karakura Town?"

"Yes," the answer came sleepily.

"Did she ever mention finding people there she had met before on a previous mission?"

"Yes. The very last entry. She said she recognized the shop's name."

Shiba settled back and sipped her drink, glancing out the open window at the stars gleaming against a velvet-black sky. It would be a beautiful night to light off some fireworks.

Yoruichi stirred. "One question answered." She pitched her voice a little lower. "Kiyone, did anyone else other than you know about this?"

"Captain did," the entranced midget whispered. "When she went missing, he went through her daily reports with a fine-toothed comb. More than usual. He reads them all. All of them. We have to…" And she smiled lazily. "We have to keep ourselves informed 'bout what's going on. That's what Captain says."

"Anyone else?"

"Guy from the Kuchiki. He asked for them. I gave them to him, got some choice gossip about Captain Ice-Sculpture and gave it to my sister. She's hot for him, she wants to make him melt, she's all like…!"

"Enough about that." Yoruichi looked just a bit annoyed, her eyes narrowed slightly. Oh-ho, Kūkaku thought to herself. I do believe the cat's cream just went a little sour. But she didn't dare speak it out loud, partly because her voice would disrupt the spell, and mainly because this was too good an opportunity to squander recklessly.

There was a measure of gentleness in the way the next question was phrased.

"Now, I want you to think about your captain, Jūshirō Ukitake."

Well, this is unexpected. Thought for sure she'd ask about Aizen right off the bat.

Her lids came up a fraction. Kiyone's face positively glowed. "No problem."

"I want you to think about everything; his habits, his friends, his routines, and tell me: is there anything that seems off about him?"

The light in her eyes dimmed quite abruptly. "He's… sick."

Her interrogator looked ready to brush that obvious comment aside, then stopped, considering.

"Sick how, Kiyone? What exactly is Ukitake's illness?"

"I don't know." Kiyone looked as if she might cry. "He never tells me, we're not supposed to talk about it with anyone. The others know. Unohana. Yamamoto. Shunsui. Something wrong with his chest, he has… difficulty breathing, and he coughs up blood. There's so much sometimes, I really think he's going to die, and I get so scared I could scream. But he never does. He always manages to pull through. He's a true fighter, a legendary warrior, the best! He'll… he'll never die!" That last came in a rapturous whisper.

There was silence for a while, as Yoruichi pondered her next question carefully.

"Have you ever… seen Ukitake without a shirt?"

Cheeks flamed like roses then. "Yes."

"Did you notice anything peculiar?"

Shiba's eyes flicked over the top of her cup, curious in spite of herself.

"No. He's perfect. My perfect hero captain, I hope he knows how much he means to all of us."

This information apparently fostered no reaction, whether disappointment or relief. But with that ninja-jōnin, who could tell for sure? Not I, she laughed to herself.

"Have you ever noticed a recognizable pattern to his episodes?"

A shudder went up the spell-bound child's frame. "Like the meetings?"

"What meetings? The general captain meetings?"

A nod yes, and then quite quickly no. "Not all of them. Only the ones where he has to stay afterwards."

"Why? What happens then?"

"I don't know! Nobody can tell me!" There were tears in Kotetsu's eyes now. "I've asked, and old Lieutenant White-Coat said we shouldn't inquire! But sometimes all the captains come out after the meetings, and I'm always waiting there to be of help to mine, he says I don't have to, but I really, _really_ do! And Lieutenant Sasakibe says Captain Yamamoto has to speak with Captain Ukitake privately, but you know something strange? Whenever he does that, I've noticed, every time, every _single_ time, you know who else doesn't come out of the chamber? Captain Unohana! She always stays with them, and when I asked Sasakibe about it, he said it was not my concern and I _shouldn't inquire _about the captains' affairs!"

"Why do _you _think they get together like that, without Captain Kyōraku, even?"

"Cap'n Shunsui's never been as good as my captain at spells. I think… they're trying things! Experiments!" Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "They're trying different ways to _heal_! When he comes out, sometimes, I can smell the magic on him. Spells for healing! I recognize them. And he always seems shaken. But maybe it isn't for him they're trying, I thought that to myself one day when I was feeling really worried for him, it made me feel smart to realize it! Maybe they're actually trying to heal _Yamamoto!_ Like he's more frail than we know, or whatever! Maybe the Commander-General's _dying_, have you ever thought about that? Oh! Oh! And one more thing…!"

Before they could learn what it was, Yoruichi snapped her fingers suddenly, and Kiyone's eyes glazed over for a moment. When they cleared again, she picked up right where she left off.

"… of Whispers! I know everything there is to know, I'm kind of like a library. Not the stuffy kind Nanao-chan's always in, more like…"

"NANAO-CHAN!"

Yoruichi sprang to her feet so fast she almost bowled the smaller girl over. "Ah, that's right! I just remembered, she told me I have a library book that's one-hundred years overdue! Wow, that's going to be some fine, I'll bet! Well, this has been fun, Kiyone-chan, but I seriously need to get going. No rest for the wicked, you know. Come on, Boom-Stick, let's hop to it!"

The next thing she knew, Kūkaku was being hoisted unceremoniously to her feet and flash-dragged out of the room, barely having enough time to grab her traveling cloak. She caught only a fleeting glimpse of Kotetsu's bleary-eyed features before she found herself outdoors and stumbling to keep upright.

"Yoruichi, you crazy bitch, slow it down!"

Of a sudden they slammed to a halt in one of the dark lanes of the Seireitei, so fast she almost toppled over. The cat goddess skipped forward and cast a cool look at her glowering companion, who was attempting to untangle the mess of her headdress. "Ah, quit complaining. You're missing an arm, not a leg."

In response, the Lady of Shiba stuck out her stump and sneered. "Sit on it and rotate, you ungrateful hag. I like you better when you're on all fours and coughing up hairballs." After a bit she managed to get her tangled locks back in some semblance of order, and dropping to the stone, lit her pipe and took a long drag before glancing up at her companion. "Why'd you cut it short, anyway? Looked like you were getting all the answers you wanted."

Her fellow aristocrat shook her head. "The spell was wearing off, she might have remembered anything said after that. No chance casting it again, either. But you're right about one thing, I did find something useful."

"And that would be?"

Yoruichi stared up at the moonless heavens above them before giving a shrug. "Nyah, I'll tell you later."

"Pah!" Just like Yoruichi, always looking to act cool and mysterious. Well, I guess for some folks it really isn't an act. All the more reason to keep my wits about me.

This precaution was borne out a moment later.

"Why didn't you tell me about the wolf?"

Kūkaku inhaled deeply without bothering to look up, then exhaled with a sigh. Grasping the pipe between her teeth, she reached up and massaged her right deltoid muscle, wrapped in bandages. "Wasn't your place to know. It's my family's responsibility. Always has been. And it's not exactly the sort of thing we wanted getting around."

The other woman continued to study the stars. "You didn't trust me?"

"Yoruichi, I'd tell you my most secret fireworks mixtures, I trust you that much. But I'd never have told you about that. We don't trust _anybody_ that much."

A murmur of something that might have been understanding then. The crouching spell-mistress chose not to inquire. Apparently the Shihoin heir had chosen this time to test the waters with her. Well, fine. Ask anything, I'll decide whether or not you need to know the answer.

"You never mentioned how you lost your arm, Kūkaku."

She chose to answer that with a grunt.

"My spies told me it was an accident with fireworks when you were a child. Something always smelled fishy, though. Someone whose soul was as strong as yours, the arm would have had to be incinerated before it couldn't be repaired, even if your father couldn't afford the best medical care anymore."

The mention of her deceased parent irked Kūkaku more than she cared to admit, and so she responded with, "I never told you how I lost it, because I didn't _lose_ it. I sacrificed it."

Those golden eyes, when they turned on her now, held sympathy that was too deep to feign. "To what?"

"Ah, you already know what!" Shiba came to her feet, knocking the bowl of her pipe loose against her stump. "Something that gave me nightmares for my childhood and beyond, 'til my brother died, and I gave up on them."

"Did you take Kaien's place, then? Was he supposed to be the one to lose an arm?"

"That's a stupid question, Yoruichi." She turned a glare on her old drinking buddy. "Even a moron would start to ask questions if every supreme head of the Shiba were missing an arm. I'll tell you this because it doesn't matter anymore: it was always a distant relative of the clan, someone who could fade into the background and not be noticed. That way no undue suspicions got raised, and we kept the secret from all, including the other five clans after they forgot. The seal was restored, and everybody lived happily ever after. Losing our title didn't change our duties."

That purple hair flew in a rueful shake. "So it's a matter of honor, then?"

"More like survival." With that, she flicked out the last of the ashes and regarded the slender titan with a frank stare. "We done now, Yoruichi? You satisfied that I'm not the person you're looking for? Cuz if there's nothing else pressing to discuss, I'm going to go home, whip Ganju's ass around the track a few times, and call it a night."

When no answer was forthcoming, she sniffed and turned around. "See ya later, then. Tell those kids I said 'Hi'."

"He set it free, you know."

She stopped.

"Yeah. I know. And before you ask, to sate your suspicions, nobody told me. I felt it. Right here." And the one-armed woman indicated her missing limb. "Hurts like a bitch, that phantom pain. At least, it used to. Then all of a sudden it just didn't anymore. Like someone else had made the sacrifice willingly. Damned if I know how, since last I checked Ganju still had all his limbs, and we don't have any other family that I know of. Alive, at any rate."

"There was a copy of the binding incantation kept in the Great Spirit Library," Yoruichi explained softly. "My family stole it about three thousand years ago, and the bureaucrats picked it up after the Seireitei was formed."

"Sneaky bastards. Just couldn't leave well enough alone, eh?" The master fireworks engineer paused thoughtfully. "Still doesn't explain how they knew where to look. The wolf was sealed away so long ago, and only one person in every generation was told where. The clan head got the spell, but even they didn't know the location. They just relayed the information whenever the time rolled around to strengthen the binding, and the chosen one did all the rest. For just that, you didn't need six other people. That was only to break the chain."

"It would have been nice to know this when it happened, Kūkaku," the shinigami spoke in a voice devoid of humor. There was a challenge in those words.

"You just don't get it, Yoruichi." And the fiery head of her diminished clan turned around. "Aizen can't control that monster. Nobody can. It's totally insane. If he thinks he can bully it, he's got another thought coming. It'll just eat him. I don't care how strong he really is, _nobody's_ more powerful than Fenris Wolf. Or whatever its real name is, that's just the codename we gave it. Like Grand Fisher, or Bas Celik. It's the whole reason we've got royal families, so that nobody forgets the names of those who risked everything to defeat the original _vasto lorde_. Hey, no worries, right? If it does show up outside of Hueco Mundo, Yamamoto'll just use the Key to bring in Squad Zero and finish the job from long ago. That'll scare Aizen shitless, eh?"

"What about the chain?" Shihoin pressed then. "Can it be reforged?"

This earned an angry shake of the head. "Only the King's family knew the actual ingredients. We just knew how to _use_ it! Kuchiki clan forged it, yours managed to get it on him, and the other three fought with everything they had to keep him from figuring out what was going on. Even after Fenris was bound, they still couldn't kill him." Kūkaku frowned and scratched her head. "Or maybe they wouldn't, is all. Gave people something to point to and say, 'You don't want that _thing_ running around again, do you? All right then, praise to the King, everybody'! Why lead when you can rule, right?"

It was such a bother to think about this, much less talk about it. Cripes, I'm tired. If I haven't convinced her by now, I'm not going to.

"Listen, I'm outta here. Good luck sniffing out your mystery person. Give 'em hell when you do." With that, she draped the white cloak over her shoulders, hiding the sign of her family's ancient determination.

"Kūkaku."

Yoruichi's hand touched her arm.

"I believe you."

She looked down at those elegant brown fingers, and then back up at their owner.

"Still doesn't mean you completely trust me, though, right?"

"No."

And she suddenly hugged Kūkaku.

"But I still love you like a sister, you know?"

Without hesitation, her single strong arm came up and returned the embrace.

"Yeah, I know. I love you too, crazy lady. Let's do things right this time around."

They parted, and went on their separate missions.

* * *

'_How's it going?'_

'_I've received intel from trustworthy people. Soifon was kind of batty after trailing Unohana, but that was just from being exposed to Orihime. She was going on about 'murder notebooks' and 'justifiable homicide'. I had to talk her out of it. We still got close to everybody, including the Big Four.'_

'_Even Yamamoto?'_

'_Especially him. I didn't want us to be blindsided just because we thought there were some people above suspicion.'_

'_And? Who's the best candidate?'_

'_Right now, it's Jūshirō.'_

'_WHAT? You're kidding!'_

'_I kid you not.'_

'_Goodness, you really are suspicious. Have you by any chance forgotten that they tried to kill him a while back?'_

'_Yes, they did. Him and several other captains. HE'S the only one they failed at.'_

'_Which could be due to the fact that Ukitake's one of the most powerful captains in history.'_

'_Exactly. He's powerful, he's old, and he's miserable. We both know all the crap Yamamoto insisted he do throughout the ages. Every man has his breaking point.'_

'_It seems unlikely all the same. Why would Aizen try so hard to kill him that one time if they're working together?'_

'_Maybe they're not anymore. They might have had a falling out somewhere along the way. Or as a cover. How better than an assassination attempt to make it seem as though two people were enemies? My family's certainly used that trick before.'_

'_Or here's another idea: What if Aizen doesn't even remember who it was that saved him?'_

'_Pardon?'_

'_Cloud Over Moon, remember? As soon as they got the ball rolling, they might have both sealed their memories of each other, so as not to give anything away throughout the centuries. That way nothing would have looked suspicious.'_

'_Unbelievable. You really think they'd go that far to pull this off?'_

'_We would.'_

'_Good point.'_

'_But even so, Ukitake did almost die. Had it not been for Renji…'_

'_One of the people we are also suspicious of, with good reason.'_

'_Which reminds me. What's your count up to on that score?'_

'_So far, I'm thinking five.'_

'_Wow. That many?'_

'_At least.'_

'_They could certainly do a lot of damage when the fighting starts.'_

'_One more thing before I go. Do you happen to know if Jūshirō or any of the others came to Soul Society by way of konsō?'_

'_Not a clue. They're all nobles, you know. Well, except for the Old Man. Why?'_

'_Something Kiyone Kotetsu said. This whole business started with them trying to find a way to bring about a safe balance between Hollow and shinigami, remember? We assumed it was just for gaining the power that would result from it. But it could be worse than that. Maybe it's more a matter of life and death for the person behind all this.'_

'_I see what you're getting at. Well, it would certainly explain their interest in me and my research. Tessai and I will look into things on our end, and you do the same.'_

'_Got it.'_

'_Sure would be nice to hear what they're talking about in Hueco Mundo right about now.'_

'_Amen to that.'_

_

* * *

_

Aizen brought the cup of steaming tea to his lips, pausing to inhale the aroma leisurely before taking his first sip. The blend, which had fallen out of favor in Soul Society nearly five hundred years ago, was one that always conjured a strange sense of nostalgia in his heart. It was both soothing and vaguely disturbing.

Setting the fine bone porcelain down, he leaned back in the enormous settee and closed his eyes.

"Who are we up to now?"

"Grimmjow," Tosen responded from his place by the door.

"He'll be _Sexta _then, I take it."

"Of course," the sightless guardian regarded his master curiously. "What else?"

"Just wondering." Aizen quirked a smile, setting his fingers to his temples and lounging back gracefully. "I thought perhaps you were about to tell me that Barragan's condition had taken a turn for the worse."

"The new _Segunda_ is recovering in the hospital ward. His survival has been confirmed." Kaname removed the pad from beneath his arm and called up the information on it. "Our medics were able to save his eye, but the scar is permanent. By all accounts he was none too pleased with the result of his attempt to remove the new top _Espada._"

"I do hope it doesn't upset him unduly that he must now be considered second even among Hollows," the revolutionary leader mused, his posture and tone in no way supporting the statement of implied concern.

"It will serve as a reminder for him, Aizen-sama. We do not assign rank arbitrarily. He is fortunate that Stark's mood shifted before completing the kill."

"Wait five minutes, and the fenris will experience five different mood shifts," their master noted, and chuckled. "Still, even if he hadn't stopped in time, it would have served as a worthwhile display to the rest. I imagine even the _Quinta_ will not be making any foolhardy attempts to test Stark's mettle now."

"Aizen-sama," Tosen spoke courteously. By the way he sounded, it was clear to his master what would follow. And he was correct. "I find myself surprised that you are not more concerned by this display. The new one is even more potentially dangerous to you than Luisenbarn. Even with the apparent settling of his sanity that the hōgyoku's transformation bestowed, he is still violently unpredictable and a threat to all around him." There was no hesitation in the knight's words when he spoke next. "Perhaps too great a threat, Aizen-sama."

And to think, I once yearned to be loved and respected, Sōsuke thought. Now here I find it makes for such tedious conversations. I rather miss having Gin around.

"In my current state, I will agree with you that Coyote is my superior, Kaname" he spoke calmly.

Tosen gave a start. "Aizen-sama, I was not implying that…!"

"Please." His lord waved a hand. "Anyone can feel it. Fortunately, I remain convinced that will no longer be the case once I have achieved the state of being we have desired for so long." Dark chocolate eyes drifted over to the plinth rising out of the center of the room. "In the meantime, Stark's madness is both nuisance and insurance. While there is a slight chance he could overcome all the current Espada along with the three of us combined, he remains solely disinterested in anything resembling rule or leadership. For the time being, we shall let him roam free. Attempting to chain this particular dog would only alienate him at this point. Ulquiorra is with him now, and…"

He paused as a signal came by the door.

"Well, speak of the devil."

At a nod from his superior, Tosen opened the portal. Standing outside was the newly-christened _Quarta Espada_, Ulquiorra Schiffer. The dead-eyed duelist stepped into the room and crossed to stand before his master's seat, appearing to have no interest in the blind guard who had taken up position right behind him. Aizen made a note to chastise the former captain later for his newfound overprotective streak. Regardless of the uproar Stark's appearance had caused in the _Espada_, it would not do to imply that one of their commanders no longer trusted them. He didn't, but it wasn't necessary to announce it so.

Although it was not lost upon him that Schiffer was clearly alone at this time.

How interesting.

"He is gone, Aizen-sama," the killer clown spoke in a flat voice devoid of sentiment.

No reason to ask whom he meant. Tosen, however, was clearly not in the mood for subtleties. "To whom are you referring?" As if it wasn't obvious.

"Coyote Stark," Ulquiorra replied without turning around.

"Kindly explain, my dear _Cuarta_," Aizen spoke to deflect Tosen's rudeness. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Thank you, I will stand." He proceeded to do so, hands still in his pockets. His leader used this time to unobtrusively study the _vasto lorde's_ recently revealed face a little further. It was still something of a curiosity to at last see what had lurked beneath that partially-removed helm after all this time. "The _Primera_ was with me for an hour after showing him his quarters, in which time I introduced him to potential _fracción, _as per your orders."

"Did any of them strike his fancy?" Sōsuke interrupted.

"One of those who came to his aid against Barragan's men during the failed assassination attempt. Her name was Lilynette Gingerback. He seemed to be interested in her, and they spoke together for several minutes. They appeared quite taken with each other. Stark declared that he would take her as his _fracción_, and then proceeded to eat her."

Kaname Tosen jumped at this last statement. "_What?"_

"He ate her," Ulquiorra repeated without so much as a blink of his green serpent eyes. "Apparently he misunderstood my explanation of 'choosing someone to serve his needs' as permission to consume them. I was not expecting this, as _vasto lorde_ do not require food. I tender my regrets on that score, Aizen-sama." He bowed his head.

"Understandable. Please do not give it another thought." I won't. Aizen covered his mouth to hide a brief smile, and then dropped it to lean forward. "You say Coyote is gone? Gone where?"

A shrug of the shoulders. "I cannot say. He did not specify, only stated that he was feeling 'cooped up'. He is not in Hueco Mundo, that is all I know. The method of dimensional travel he utilized was unfamiliar to me, which is why I could not follow him. However, as he was leaving, I was able to cast a _Wyrm Sombra_ around him. Wherever he went, his Hollow signature will be completely masked. Of that, at least, I am certain."

Aizen considered this, gazing at them both. True to character, Schiffer was unfazed by all this, black lips perennially frowning, something he had always suspected. His chalky white face was in marked contrast to Tosen's, whose rich brown features were noticeably sweating and shaken.

As for their master, he looked perfectly calm, due entirely to the fact that he was.

"So the wolf has taken a day out," he mused, standing up. "Well, let us see if anything interesting happens as a result."

* * *

Coyote Stark looked around him at the hustle and bustle of humanity. He remembered human beings as rather filthy creatures prone to killing each other at any given opportunity. It had surprised him to find them so clean now, and possessed of the habit of clothing, much like his newfound companions. There might have been some measure of dissimilarity between their style of dress and his, but so far no one had remarked upon it.

Actually, to be honest, there hadn't been a single person to even look at him since he arrived in this thriving community. Being ignored had only served to deepen his depression, which had lingered following the magnificent high of slaughtering all those arrancar and waging a pitched battle with that little skeleton toy king. Eating the girl afterwards had brought a remonstrance from his guide, which had served to plunge him into the depths of despair. No longer finding the place to be of comfort, Stark had then decided to see how life on Earth had fared during his millennia of incarceration.

As he said, the changes were startling. Not a single person had been killed in his vicinity for the last hour. That was certainly new. Their huts were larger as well, and far more colorful. Hardly any of them were malnourished, and the scents of their world, ranging from flowering fragrances to rotting trash, were varied and unusual. It was bright. It was beautiful. It was heavenly.

It stank.

Not so much in terms of the air. This was more in reference to the quality of souls. Apparently, all the dirt they had managed to remove from their skins and furs had gone on the inside, making for a remarkably nasty, underdeveloped, paltry excuse for spirits. Back in his day, there were robust and healthy morsels to be found everywhere, possessed of wonderfully tasty souls that could fill a Hollow's gullet and leave one panting for more. Nowadays, it was slim pickings. Fear and confusion seemed to have settled in where once there was courage and daring. It was disappointing to see how far humanity had fallen. Apparently the gods no longer manifested themselves here, and the resulting cutoff of spiritual guidance had left mankind gasping and withering on the vine.

Coyote sniffed as several people in this crowd passed right through him. They shuddered and reacted poorly to his touch. Timid, weak, possessed of no creativity or even concern for anything around them. These creatures shuffled through their lives without bothering to notice much, closed off from their comrades and filled with unexplainable misery. Hardly any of them smiled or even looked one another in the eye. The stench of their spiritual rot caused him to wrinkle his nose in distaste.

So this is what I was looking forward to all this time? It was better in my imagination.

The melancholia was back full force. Briefly he considered killing everyone in this giant village to see if it would lift their spirits and his. The idea of their panicked screams and the enrichening terror serving to lift them all out of their doldrums did hold a certain degree of sense. However, even as his mouth began to water, the sight of so many of them passing by a female whose strange transportation seemed to have stopped functioning without so much as looking at her caused his brief excitement to die. Why, back in his day (although really, isn't this my day, too?), there would have been any number of males stopping to help, console, comfort, rape, torture, and murder that woman. What was humanity coming to, that they would overlook such an obvious opportunity?

That Aizen fellow had it right. These people needed to be improved upon.

Despondent, the arrancar moved over to an outdoor area in front of a hut where food and refreshments seemed to be served. He slumped down in a chair already occupied by a youngster, not bothering to notice when the kid jerked upright and dashed off, swiping vainly at himself to remove the sense of bugs crawling over his skin.

This was such a huge disappointment. Maybe I should just go to Soul Society and let them kill me?

"Are you an idol star?"

That question seemed to be directed at him. For the first time today, somebody noticed him. Feeling a mild interest at the occurrence, Coyote glanced up to verify this.

She was indeed looking at him. Age was hard to determine, but she didn't smell more than a few decades old. Fairly young for a human, he guessed. Slender and healthy-looking. She was wearing those odd eye-decorations that some mortals preferred nowadays, similar to the kind that pink-haired little worm back in Hueco Mundo had sported. Her hair was black and fell in a ponytail down her back. Rather pretty, as humans went. But what captured his interest, other than the fact that she seemed aware of him, was the quality of her soul. It was sharp and rich, headily resonant in the midst of all the dross. This person had life brimming over in their heart, mixed with something that seemed to call to him on a basic level.

Stark found himself aroused, and that made him grin.

"I don't know what you just called me, but feel free to do it again," he growled.

In response, she smiled back in a way that was totally different than those around them. Without bothering to ask, the woman sat down at the table beside him, settling her bags by her feet in those spike-heeled coverings.

"You must be American by the look of you," she continued. "We get a few of those around here, but I've never seen an actual supermodel before." He had no idea what either of those things she mentioned were, but the way her appealing aroma tugged at his senses was well worth any confusion. "Are you here on a shoot?"

"I'm here because I was released from the moon," Coyote responded.

"The Moon? That new dance spot? Never been there. I'm here because Daimaru Peacock had a 50% off shoe sale, school is still out, and I had to mace the guy I went on a date with last night." She reached up to adjust her eyewear. "I was feeling depressed and decided to do something about it."

"I was too. Thought about killing people, but that's what got me in this mess in the first place. I decided to wait for when I'm in a better mood."

The brunette cocked her head and grinned mischievously. "You're a little crazy, aren't you?"

This just got better and better! "So are you!"

She leaned forward. "What makes you say that?"

He reciprocated the movement. "You saw me, and stopped to talk to me. Nobody else did. You're a fabulous soul in the midst of a lot of walking garbage piles."

She jumped a little in her seat and laughed, zipping her head around to glance at the others in the vicinity. Funny, that alone should have caused him to want to eat her. But for whatever reason, he was enjoying himself simply talking to this fine specimen.

And what the hell was up with that, anyway? He never talked before eating. Maybe Aizen's magic show screwed me up more than I thought. I should ask some of the other _vasto lorde _if the same thing happened to them. Maybe that Barragan guy was a sweet-tempered granny before they took the mask off. Damn, that's a pretty lucid connection I made, come to think of it!

Ah, the hell with this thinking. It's making me anxious, and I feel too lively right now for any of that crap.

"Normally I wouldn't talk to a weirdo who wears a jawbone around his neck, because I'm a vegetarian. Not because I love animals, but because it's more fun to chase down and eat something that can't possibly get away from you."

"I love the chase!" Yes, he really, really did. She's very active, and certainly talks a lot more than me.

"What's your name, Skirt Chaser?"

No woman had ever bothered to ask. It made his mouth water.

"Coyote Stark."

"I'm Misato Ochi. My job is to take peoples' children and educate them, but sometimes when I'm teaching and they're not paying any attention, I imagine the roof caving in and crushing them all. Or I see their heads all on pikes and just their mouths moving to answer questions. You know what I mean?"

"I know exactly how many people can be impaled down the trunk of a five-hundred year old elm tree."

"Why haven't you been arrested for carrying a sword around? That was banned back in the Meiji Restoration, I'm pretty sure the law was never rescinded. I know, I'm a teacher."

"I haven't been arrested because I don't know what that means. And I'll remain that way for as long as I live."

Misato looked him up and down. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"You mean besides you?"

"Yeah. Is there a ring on your finger beneath those gloves? Do you have a girl on the side? You're not a harem type of guy, are you?" she asked with a slightly worried expression that served to whet his appetite.

In response to the first question, he grasped the tip of one white glove in his teeth and slid it off, then the other, holding his hands up to demonstrate the lack of any rings. "There was a girl in my _fracción_, but I already ate her. And Barragan's the one with a harem, not me."

"Good enough. But no eating me on the first date. Shake on it?"

She held out her hand. Stark gazed at that lovely appendage, already savoring the taste of it.

Just then, someone moved to stand beside them.

The _Espada_ glanced up. Looming over them was a tall skinny young human who bore a slight resemblance to Ochi, at least in terms of hair color and the eyewear. He wasn't looking at Stark, but not in the same way as the others. Rather like he was purposefully avoiding eye contact. There was no sense of spirit power, but this kid's soul had an unusual tang to it all the same.

"Ochi-sensei," the boy spoke, "You need to come with me."

She blinked at him in surprise. "Ishida-kun, what are you…?"

Just then the kid leaned in and whispered in her ear. Misato's eyes grew wide all of a sudden, and she jumped to her feet, grabbing the bags before giving him a quick bow.

"Bye!"

They then moved off together.

Stark remained where he was. For a moment he considered giving chase. But they weren't running. And even if he could get them to, there was too large a crowd for the pursuit to last more than a few seconds. It wouldn't be worth the effort.

And just like that, his good humor vanished. Sighing dismally, the dejected lunatic stood up and vanished from that scene.

"Whew!" Misato blew out her breath. "Thank heaven you showed up when you did, Ishida-kun."

"Glad to be of help," her student spoke quietly, glancing back over his shoulder.

"It's just my luck. I meet a cute guy, we get along well, and then something happens to turn him into a monster. I simply cannot win!" She slumped over with a sigh, then shot a glance at the teenager beside her. "So how did you know he had herpes, anyway?"

Still looking behind him, Uryū Ishida did not speak for a while. Then he finally said, "My father is the chief administrator at a hospital. I saw the man before."

"I thought he was just some kind of yakuza gangster," she moaned, swinging her shopping bags. "He had this tattoo on his hand. Come to think of it, it looked like a Western language symbol, but I couldn't tell if it was the kind for '1' or '7'. You know how it is, all those European writing systems look the same." The lovelorn teacher brightened promptly. "Hey, Ishida-kun! To thank you for getting me out of that jam, what do you say I treat you to lunch? Then you can introduce me to your hospital-owning father! He never comes to parent-teacher conferences. If he looks anything like you I know we'll hit it off! What are his hobbies?"

"Yes to lunch. No to my father. His hobbies are unspeakable."

"Okay. Whatever." And she began to hum merrily while skipping along.

The former Quincy finally turned his head forward. It didn't seem like they were being followed, but he kept his hand clenched around the silver tubes in his pocket just in case. Not that they would have done any good against whatever that thing had been, but all the same, he had his family name to uphold.

Every soul saved counted.

* * *

"He recognized him," Aizen said softly.

"They knew each other?" Tosen frowned.

His overlord tapped a finger against his cheek, the only sign of irritation on his part. "I mean the boy recognized that Stark was a Hollow. He sought him out deliberately."

Kaname seemed to consider this. "Perhaps it was merely his instincts and nothing more."

"No. The Quincy was not affected by the _Sombra_. It's as simple as that."

Standing close beside his lord, the studious guardian wondered who would pay for this failure. He had a pretty good idea. "Shall I have the _Octava_ demoted out of the _Espada_ again? Dordonii hasn't been officially removed as _Decima_ yet, we could simply keep him on and have Rialgo be the _Novena_."

"Tosen."

"Yes, Aizen-sama."

The King closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. "I have already decided that Dordonii Alessandro del Socacchio is no longer fit to be one of our death dealers. His place is with the Privaron now. But don't bother changing the _Octava's _number. He's not worth the effort. Simply skip over him and have Aaroniero be the _Novena_ now. Make sure they understand this is no reflection on their worth, it is merely a matter of aesthetics. Nothing more. There should be some form of discipline meted out for this flaw in the _Sombra's_ design."

"I understand."

Aizen tuned the settings on their view-screen, then settled back in to continue observing. "It isn't that great a burden. One or two Quincy cannot affect the outcome of this war overmuch. Soul Society would never accept their warnings anyway. The Sōkyoku halberd has been destroyed, relieving us of that threat. And our garden is flourishing nicely. Take this time to appreciate everything that has gone right, rather than what has not."

* * *

The sun was setting. Walking by a river bordered with identically-shaped stones, Coyote watched his old companion as it sank below the horizon. He had been dreaming of seeing that sight again for so long, but it seemed that everything in this world had lost its luster. Souls, nature, the whole thing. There hadn't even been a single god to seek him out for battle. He would have thought they might have tried swarming him by now. Maybe they were all afraid? He had killed quite a few of them back in the days of war. Apparently the malaise that had settled upon the humans affected their spiritual counterparts as well.

I am so damn bored I could cough up blood.

Just as he thought this, someone came running around a curve in the road right in front of him.

They were moving at a pretty fast pace, whoever they were. But instead of tearing through him as he had expected, the person gave a leap and passed high over the malingering werewolf's head.

Both of them turned at the same time to stare curiously at each other, one standing still, the other running backwards now. The _Primera Espada_ looked into the eyes of an orange-haired boy who regarded him with a very peculiar look of incomprehension. The distance between them was growing, but before Stark could consider what to do in this situation, the kid's face transformed into a look of panic, and spinning back around he took off.

"THERE HE GOES! GET HIM!" someone shouted.

"Sunnavabitch! How did… Kurosaki learn to… run so fast?"

Just then, a mob of other humans went tearing through were he was standing. They shouted and slavered in bloodlust, so intent upon their quarry they didn't even notice the effect of Stark's presence. The pack continued their chase, and as he watched them, the immortal felt infected by their primordial pursuit. Hunters on the trail of the weak! Death! Murder! Intoxication! Now, this was something he could appreciate! With that, he drew his sword and prepared to join in the hunt.

"Hey!" a voice behind him shouted. "Who the hell are you?"

Stark snarled in irritation and spun about. Behind him there stood panting a hideously ugly young human with chains around his neck. The sight of those bands reminded the Hollow of his own incarceration, which only served to stoke his fury.

"I asked youz a question, butthead!" the brute huffed, trying to catch his breath. "I'm Oushima Reichi, the strongest man at Karakura High! You friends with Kurosaki or somethin'? Cuz if so, I…"

Just then, his accuser caught sight of the sword bared in Coyote's fist, and fear crept into his sweaty face.

That settled it.

"Run!" the Hollow whispered.

His prey just stood there staring stupidly.

"RUN!" he repeated, and took a step forward.

That got through. With a terrified bleat like a frightened sheep, the human turned and raced back the way he came.

Stark threw back his head and howled, causing the river to churn violently in its bed, stone to crack and trees to swing wildly as though in a gale. All clouds in the sky were swept off into the distance. Then he sprang in hot pursuit.

Terror, blood, the chase! It was all coming back to him now! At first he kept his distance, letting the clumsy thing stumble and stagger, shrieking out for help. Coyote savored its pitiful attempts at flight. How magnificent to be doing this again! There had been a time when entire herds of humans swept before him in mindless panic, trampling everything in their path, crushing their old, young, and weak underfoot in their desperation to get away. The unrestrained chaos of it all was like a heartbeat that spurred him on to even greater acts of savagery. That feeling still existed in this world! Oh, what a revelation, what a thoughtful gift!

At this point his euphoria had caused him to close the gap so that he was directly behind his intended target. The fleeing beast looked back and squealed invitingly, soiling itself and bulling ahead even faster, although he could already sense how its muscles were protesting this treatment. Waving the sword about, shouting and laughing, the joy-maddened hunter couldn't help himself anymore! He brought his weapon up, and when the pig turned around again, drove the weapon screaming down right towards its face!

There was a flash of light off to the side, and something knocked into his sword, deflecting its angle slightly to send it shearing through the concrete.

Stark drew up short, staring in disbelief. What just happened? He glanced over to where the attack had come from. Trees rising up on the hills, stone walls off to either side, poles of wood and metal. Nothing more. Turning to look in the opposite direction, the _Espada's_ attention was caught by the sight of a smoking hole about the size of one's finger burned into the rock. He approached and sniffed the area experimentally. Not demon magic. It wasn't the gods, then. Something more… human? Whatever it was, it seemed pretty strong. But there was still no sign of its presence anywhere near here. Was this some kind of long-range attack?

Just then it finally dawned upon Coyote that his prey had disappeared.

What a load of shit.

All of a sudden, the day's disappointments seemed to come crashing down together, leaving him crestfallen, completely unwilling to continue the pursuit or try to learn the identity of his attacker.

Stark kicked at a broken rock. Without even bothering to look around, he muttered, "Screw this. I'm going back to _Las Noches."_

A second later, the street was empty.

Elsewhere, Ryūken Ishida lowered his bow, stepping away from the window in his office. He sat back down and once more busied himself trying to determine how to swing this person receiving the necessary treatment without any health insurance.

Every life saved counted.

* * *

It was night. All about her, the land was peaceful. Not a single slip of impending doom or imminent peril to distract from her goal.

Funny, Rukia thought. I almost wish there was.

The high she had been working under since having her energy restored was starting to wind down. With it, the sudden impulse to come here was seeming more and more like a serious impropriety. But that was her head talking. Her body still craved something much less debatable. Coming here Rukia had been tempted to pounce on several people, regardless of the social taboos. Fortunately, whatever she had experienced was apparently only serving to amplify preexisting conditions. At least, that was what she hoped.

Dismissing this thought, the shinigami stepped through the wall into the boy's bedroom, just as she had in what seemed like an eternity ago.

Her eyes drifted about. The darkened room was empty save for the two of them. Kon's presence was elsewhere in the house, clearly agitated but not going anywhere it seemed. That meant heaven had smiled upon her venture. Or hell, depending on your viewpoint.

With that, she stole over to where he slept.

Ichigo Kurosaki somehow managed to look hostile even while sleeping. His brow was knit, jaw clenched firmly. A faint sheen of sweat brightened his skin, and he shuddered faintly. For a while she only watched him, feeling torn by a host of insecurities and honest convictions. The sight of this headstrong youth was having a greater effect on her than she had realized. Therefore the errant shinigami took a moment to collect herself before proceeding.

Rukia's previous heart-fluttering indecision was quickly replaced by concern when there came a faint moan from his lips. Come to think of it, he did seem to be in distress. Could he be having a nightmare? Crossing to stand by his bed, she bent over and whispered urgently, "Ichigo."

A gasp, and his head snapped violently one way, then another. Kurosaki's legs kicked out, thrusting the sheets away from him, and his hands twitched faintly. He really didn't look well. A little louder this time. "Ichigo!"

The reaction became more violent, and now she was certain that something was wrong. Her hand reached out to touch his face…

And he caught it.

One sharp yank later, and he had pulled her atop him. This hideous presence, it was unmistakable! The death god's body broke out in a cold sweat, and on instinct her free hand dropped to Sode no Shirayuki's hilt.

Before it could clear an inch from the scabbard, though, he had wrapped his free hand around hers.

For a while Rukia just lay there trembling.

A voice hissed over her head.

"**Heh. Caught you."**

It was loathsome, but familiar. Like Ichigo's voice had been recorded and then distorted into something resembling a metal saw vibrating. Forcing her eyes up, she looked into his own. Or rather, those belonging to something else entirely. They were black, and yellow. No whites to be found, and they seeped into her in a way that only those of demons and one smiling killer whose gaze she never really saw before could.

"**So where am I now?"** the thing mused faintly. **"Last I recall, I was looking to pull the limbs off that shinigami nancy-boy. Come to think of it, you smell like him."** And Rukia felt it let go of her right arm to draw her closer into its embrace. There was a smile on its face now, and it leered in sickening fashion. **"Though you're a lot cuter. What brings you to our home, pretty kitty? Are you lost and looking for a warm place to spend the night?"**

Impulsively her hand jerked once more on the sword, to no effect. Its own iron grip tightened on her fingers, to the point of causing pain. A chuckle came from the beast's throat. She kept the fear she was feeling from reaching her face.

"**Oh, I see. You came to play with me. Finish what big brother couldn't. That's perfect. Exactly what I wanted too. In that case…"**

And just like that, it let go of her, raising its arms high over its head in a submissive gesture.

"**Go ahead. Show me how strong you really are. I want to know!"**

Rukia stared impassively into the monster's blazing eyes.

She did not speak.

She thought.

Once before a person I cared for approached me with a Hollow's evil swarming in his eyes. She had raised her blade and killed him then. As a result of that, Rukia had nightmares for decades. All until the human who now watched her with a monster's expression came into her life. So then. With that experience to teach me, what have I learned?

Upon reaching a decision, the tiny guardian let go of her sword.

There was a growl of surprise deep in the thing's chest. Before it could do anything, though, she reached up and laid her fingers against that area of the body.

Her touch was gentle, seeming to catch her opponent off guard with that more than anything else. For one selfish moment, Rukia Kuchiki allowed herself to feel the heart beating beneath the thin fabric, and tried to convince herself it belonged to the person she thought.

Then her other hand stole down and slipped beneath the boy's shirt.

"**What are you…?"**

She stroked gently up his skin, feeling the difference between smooth unblemished flesh and a heartbreaking amount of scar tissue that almost made her resolve falter. But Rukia kept right on going, stroking the warm muscular body, gliding slowly over his abdominals, ribs, and up to his pectorals.

"**Dammit!"**

Its hands snaked down to grip her shoulders, as if to thrust her away. But then they jerked back with a violent hiss, like touching her had burned it somehow. The patient paramour did not stop to consider the implications. Instead she took the opportunity to grasp behind its neck with her free hand and draw herself up, sliding her fingers through the short orange hair. Her focus remained upon his eyes, but her mouth was coming closer.

"**Stop it! Cut it out, you little witch! Don't you…!"**

Its face was twitching and angry now. The creature scooted backwards until its skull knocked against the headboard, but she held on tight, letting it drag her along with it.

Their faces were just an inch apart, and its breath came in quick, panting gasps. The yellow eyes were swarming with rage and frustration now. And perhaps, even the tiniest trace of fear. Of course. That's what they all are, really. From the greatest on down. No matter how strong, they're all afraid of something.

With that, Rukia bent in until her lips hovered on the verge of meeting his. Their gazes held each other like locked swords.

"**Don't you…!"**

This is how strong I am, she thought. And leaned in.

"...**TOUCH ME!"**

In that instant, hate-filled black and yellow dissolved away, fading with a cry back into the soul. In their place was white and brown. And confusion.

Rukia drew back a bit. Ichigo gasped and looked wildly around, trying to figure out just what might be happening. After a few seconds while his chest heaved beneath her, he finally looked at what lay directly before him.

"Rukia," the teen breathed, gaping in that innocent way he had. What an absolute child he could be sometimes. "Rukia, what are you…?"

Before he could finish, her arm came up. There was a slight 'pop', followed by a puff of colored smoke. The next instant, Kurosaki Ichigo was slumping forward, eyes closing, falling into deep sleep as his memories were rewritten.

She crawled off him then. Taking hold of his shoulder and reaching beneath his back, the petite warrior moved the teenager's body without effort back into a more comfortable position. A quick healing spell repaired the bump to his noggin. Drawing the sheets up around his slumbering form, Kuchiki took one last look, telling herself it was to ensure everything was all right. Then she leapt straight up, passing through the ceiling, the roof, and into the night air.

"Kuchiki-san!"

Turning about, her gaze picked out the unwelcome sight of Kisuke Urahara standing on top of a house close by. A surge of anger she no longer sought to restrain came out, and with a single bound, she dropped before the sandal-wearing scientist and glared up at him.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Why, I came to see you!" he replied with a flippant grin. Even hidden in the shadow of his floppy hat, she noticed when he glanced down to the scabbard at her side. "You finally got permission to return, I see."

"Not that it's any concern of yours," she shot back coldly. "Had it been up to you, I would have lost her forever."

A pained look crossed his face. "Actually, that's precisely the reason I wanted to call upon you tonight."

And without further ado, Urahara dropped to his knees, removed his hat and, placing both fists firmly on the tiles, bowed his head to her.

"I humbly apologize, Rukia Kuchiki. I am truly sorry for what I did without your permission."

This show of contrition was met with narrowed eyes and the curl of her lip.

"For what you did to me?" And she nodded back behind her. "Or to him?"

"I have already apologized to Kurosaki-san."

"Not nearly enough." And with that, she unsheathed her zanpakutō and laid its edge against his bowed neck. His was noticeably absent, or she might have lacked the resolve to threaten him like this. Or perhaps not, she thought angrily. We may just have to find out one day. "You are responsible for a great deal of suffering, whether intentionally or not. I find that any hardships you have had to endure for the last century are insufficient to atone for these crimes."

He did not respond.

The sword came up over his ear.

"Tell me why, Urahara. Why did you do that to me? Did you not even think of what it would feel like…" A trickle of blood flowed, "…to lose something like this? A part of my soul that I have always had and missed terribly with its absence?"

"Always?" Shrewd gray eyes gleamed up suddenly. "Are you sure about that?"

"What?"

He didn't elaborate on that, but there was nothing except utter seriousness to be found in the penitent's demeanor now. "I chose to do what I did for what I felt were good reasons. I had developed that gigai long ago, but never had the opportunity to use it. A full-powered shinigami would not have been able to interface with it. The whole purpose was to quietly drain a death god's spirit power over time."

Her weapon lowered a fraction. "Why?"

His hat was pressed to his breast now like a shield. "It was the sole means at my disposal by which the hōgyoku could be terminated. Only a shinigami's soul could withstand having the gem placed within it, but then, as I said, a full-fledged death god soul would overwhelm the gigai's disruptions. The tool defeated its own purpose. Quite the quandary for me, as you can imagine."

For just a second, Rukia detected a resemblance between the behavior of this man and Mayuri Kurotsuchi. But she swiftly discarded this epiphany to continue listening.

Kisuke continued. "What I needed was a death god who had been drained of power, but not permanently. This is harder than it sounds. After all, even if a shinigami did give their powers away, like to a human, the most they could normally give was half. No amount of effort on their or anyone else's part could change that. But in your case, when you drove your soul cutter through Ichigo's chest, he took everything you had. Don't ask me how, I still don't understand the basic reasoning myself. Only know that your soul is special among shinigami, Rukia-chan. Unique. It was a stroke of luck that you came to be in such a condition when you did. That's why I chose to help you, in order to help myself."

"WHY?" The same question, but angrier. It felt like nothing had been answered in spite of his long-winded explanation. "Why now? If things were growing so desperate, why didn't you arrange for something like this the first time we met?"

"I wasn't desperate the first time we met," Kisuke murmured laconically, steely orbs resting on her without emotion. "Back then I was safely hidden. The day you and Ichigo met was the day Aizen learned where I was hiding."

She blinked. "How?"

And the fallen captain settled back on his palms, returning the hat atop his blonde locks. "You told him."

Her jaw dropped. "Me?"

"Yes." Urahara raised a hand in conciliatory fashion. "Unintentionally, of course. You wrote it down in your daily shinigami report log that you had located someone you met before in the real world, and Aizen learned of it. He knew about our past encounter, so he knew whom you meant. I could sense him preparing to come and take the hōgyoku, and in desperation, I jumped at the first opportunity that presented itself. It just happened to be you."

Then he straightened forward, bringing up his legs, crossing his ankles and resting his arms on his knees.

"But however much I felt it was necessary at the time, I still regret my actions. So once again I tell you I am very sorry for hurting you, Rukia-chan. I myself was once sentenced to be turned into a human, by the very same body that condemned you to death. However, after having lived among these mortal folk for so long, I felt there were worse penalties than being granted a new life. After all, I knew you weren't happy living as a shinigami and a member of the Kuchiki. I told myself you might even be grateful for the opportunity to escape all that. It was how I got to sleep for those two months while you were here."

It was eerie, how closely his thinking paralleled her own so long ago. She had indeed thought about abandoning all she had come to accept as her future and hiding out among the humans with this zany soul and his accomplices. But then, as now, that was nothing more than a dream. I am a shinigami, Rukia thought, a member of the House of Kuchiki. And for the first time in my life, there is nothing to be ashamed or afraid of in that. I am a death god. Not a mortal.

Her thoughts went to the boy sleeping in the house behind her.

Not like him.

Would it have been so awful, living together for the rest of our lives, facing whatever fate had in store for us?

No. It would have been… amazing.

It just didn't turn out that way.

We have different paths to walk, but for now at least, they are running side by side. I can hold his hand for a little while longer; guide, encourage, and protect the person who changed my life so dramatically. Anything else is…

She checked herself from saying 'unnecessary'.

Instead, Rukia finished that thought with, '…going to have to wait'.

Sode no Shirayuki came up and plunged through the air. She turned her wrist, and behind Urahara, there suddenly appeared a pair of round shoji doors. The screens slid open, and immediately a hell butterfly fluttered out and landed on her arm.

Sheathing the weapon, Rukia spoke to the man crouched before that glowing plane of light.

"Forget about apologies, Urahara-san. Express remorse with your actions, not words. Find a way to make amends, not excuses. When all of this is over, then we'll have time to hear you say 'I'm sorry'." She paused. "Oh, and Captain Kurotsuchi hopes you die soon. I hope it offends you that I actually trusted him more than you. That is all."

So saying, the regal death god stepped past him, returning to the land of the dead.

The portal closed, and Kisuke remained sunk before it. For just a moment, he allowed himself to tremble at the feel of that light, that energy. The kind that was still barred to him, in spite of being proven no longer a traitor. No response to that was forthcoming. All Soul Society did was demand his efforts on their behalf.

"I am sorry, Kuchiki-san," the outcast whispered. "Sorry for everything I did to you…"

He rose to his feet.

"And for everything I'm going to do."

The hour was growing late, and he had an appointment to keep. With that, the genius scientist faded away.

_To be continued..._


	20. Fox's Prey: Presaging War

"Farewell…"

And the white blade plunged down.

"…_ESPADA_!"

* * *

All conflict had long since ceased, and in its place was the stillness of death.

The throne room had become an ice cavern. Frost glinted off every available surface, limning the area in a thin blanket. Ice crystals glittered like diamonds in the air, becoming a sparkling rainbow when they passed through the artificial sunlight pouring out of a hole in the wall. Their dance lent a quiet, timeless beauty to this previously menacing chamber.

Towards the center of that spent battlefield, a soul cutter struggled to save its wielder's life.

At first Sode no Shirayuki had been half-wild with fear and pain. The sensation of being broken like this was no less agonizing a second time around. Only that long-ago experience, combined with Rukia's determination to still use her regardless, had allowed them to come out on top against this seemingly overwhelming and ultimately overconfident opponent.

Farther off from where the stricken shinigami lay, Aaroniero Arrurueri remained where it had fallen in three different pieces. At first Shirayuki had kept a close watch on that ruined form, afraid the thing would rise and come back to life somehow. Wasn't the experience of fighting against a reborn Kaien Shiba enough to prove this to be a possibility? After ten minutes, however, it was clear to her that the monstrosity really was dead. Its body had disintegrated to an extent, and then frozen from her released power, along with both of its separated heads, which now resembled nothing so much as ugly chunks of ice. So assured of their enemy's demise, the zanpakutō had then devoted herself entirely to her lady's survival.

_Don't die, please don't die. I won't give up on you. I'll never leave your side again. Please, please! Hang on! Help is on the way, I know it!_

The wound to Rukia's stomach was still trickling blood. After she had passed out, Sode no Shirayuki had sought desperately to help her in the only way she could think of. Cold had the power to preserve, after all. By encasing her wielder in a mist of freezing reiatsu, she had hoped to slow the deterioration of her spirit. It had been a desperate, dangerous strategy, but in her current crippled condition, nothing else had been feasible. The thought of Rukia dying here, all alone, left like a dog in the street…

_I'm not going to let it happen! You won't die! You WON'T DIE! You're going to live and eat and drink and love and be happy, because you deserve to and I…_

Rukia's heartbeat was now at a sluggish pace, and Shirayuki could not tell if it was stabilizing or simply about to stop completely at any second.

_I love you! I don't want you to die! Please stay here!_

No response. Her wielder's soul was flickering on the cusp of dispersal.

NO!

_Someone help her! Please, anyone, can you hear me? She's dying! Ichigo, Renji, Orihime…ANYBODY!_

_SAVE HER!_

She wrapped her power over and around the tiny body, fighting tooth and nail. At least don't let it get any worse! This has to be doing some good, right? But there was no way to know. Death was hovering over her death god now, she could almost feel it, a shadow of fear that leached into the sword-spirit's heart, humbling and debasing her, sending her trembling and frightened back into the darkest corners of her mind. Recrimination, failure, self-reproach; she was feeling all this and more, almost like…

No.

Not almost.

It was exactly like that.

It dawned upon her then.

Sode no Shirayuki could hear footsteps.

They were slow, but distinct. Like someone was taking a casual stroll through this icy hall.

Looking up, the snow spirit saw another white specter coming towards them.

He moved amidst the falling snowflakes, sending tiny puffs of frost up with each swish of his long bleached-bone robe. For a moment she imagined she could discern every single crystalline fragment grinding under his feet, shattering against the floor.

She saw his head turn, and the straight course he had been taking towards them deviated slightly, 'til he stood over the remains of the _Espada._ Shirayuki watched as he nudged one arm with a toe experimentally, then a little more insistently. The frozen appendage broke at the shoulder. A slight 'tsk' was heard. Then he walked around it. As he went past Aaroniero's intact head, one foot lashed out casually, like a child aimlessly kicking at a dandelion. The frozen pool ball went skittering and rolling over this ice rink, to tumble off the edge of the platform. A few seconds later, she heard it shatter far below.

After this, Gin Ichimaru stood over Rukia Kuchiki.

He was still the same. No change in his reiatsu. His time living in Hueco Mundo had caused no outward alteration other than the manner of his dress. Still smiling, still peering out from between his lashes.

Chilling.

The exiled captain squatted down beside them, and Sode no Shirayuki cringed.

_Wait._

Gin didn't respond. He tilted his head to one side, seemingly examining Rukia.

Then one spidery hand reached out.

_Please._

His fingers brushed against her frost-stiff hair. Taking one black lock between thumb and forefinger, he twisted it suddenly. There was a soft crunch.

Ichimaru let go. He bent over, placing his hands on the floor and craning his neck until he was peering into Rukia's vacant, half-open eyes.

He spoke not a word.

But his presence… it seemed to affect the little shinigami. Like she knew he was there somehow, even though clearly she wasn't even conscious. Her reiatsu pulse quickened, almost on instinct. It was sharpening in response to that feeling.

After a while…

A small puff of misty breath came from the girl's mouth.

And Sode no Shirayuki knew that she would live.

With a grateful sob, the crippled spirit slumped to the moonlit field of snow that was her home. That previous heart-clutching dread was dispersed with absolute relief.

Rukia was going to live.

An instant later, Ichimaru stood up, and Shirayuki quailed before him once more, thinking that he was about to shatter her frozen mistress just as he had the dead Hollow. Break the girl as surely as she herself was right now. She knew how he liked to torture people.

But Gin only stared down at the battered victim. His lips were still parted in a grin, but…

Did he really look happy?

In spite of what she felt for him, Sode no Shirayuki almost dared to ask why.

She lost her chance, when the towering figure disappeared in a blur of shunpō, leaving them alone together.

Seconds ticked by, then minutes, marked to her immense relief by Rukia's slow, hibernating breaths. Someone would come for them, she thought. It wasn't over yet.

Briefly the zanpakutō had to wonder…

Who would find them first? Shinigami, or Hollow?

The zanpakutō thought about the man who had just been there, and she shivered.

What's the difference?

* * *

Envoys raced up and down the halls as Byakuya Kuchiki strode to the front gate. There was no stress, no unnecessary or unseemly haste in his movements. This selfsame attitude was reflected in the bearing of his servants. Water flows from high to low, and so does grace, the young lord thought.

Upon reaching the gateway into Seireitei proper, he paused to glance back at the seneschals who had accompanied him. These in particular needed to be told what to do. Not owing to any fault on their part, but only because something this monumental needed to be specifically dealt upon.

One hand on the hilt of his zanpakutō, the shinigami lord leveled a look heavy with command upon his underlings.

"Once the captains have left to do battle, you are to initiate Lady Kuchiki's design. After the transfer has been established you are to join the rest of the staff in our western estate. See to it my grandfather comes to no harm."

"As you wish, Kuchiki-sama." The honored retainers knelt in formal obeisance to their prince.

"If both my sister and I are slain, you are to break the mooring pins. Set them adrift. It would be a mercy, considering the alternative."

Byakuya turned to join several members of his division waiting upon their captain. As he did, though, the sight that lay behind him gave the nobleman pause.

Kuchiki Manor. It was truly a work of art. A lovely, impeccably maintained paradise that had been the seat of their clan for generations before his birth. Hundreds of his family members had found sanctuary inside these walls, in which were housed the most sublime treasures they had been able to craft or otherwise acquire. It was as much a part of their history as the scarf at his throat, or the kenseikan in his hair. That garden off to the left had been designed by his great-great-grandfather, maintained exactly as he had specified to this very day. The colossal gold-trimmed portico through which he was about to pass had been a wedding gift from his mother's family. This castle meant a great deal to him personally. It was his home, and the place where he had imagined living with his loved ones 'til he was as old as his grandfather.

It would be a crime to let it go to waste.

And so he gave what could very well be his final command.

"Should the Hollows enter the Seireitei," Byakuya spoke in a cold, precise manor as he stepped across the threshold, "Detonate the manor. Then resist for as long as you are alive, no matter how brief or lengthy it may be."

This time he did not bother to hear their acknowledgements. The Kenpachi was no doubt already waiting at the Senkaimon.

Peace time was over.

They were going to war.

* * *

"If even one of you guys ain't drunk or dead by the time I get back," Zaraki Kenpachi rumbled balefully, "I will build a temple out of all your skulls."

To every soldier of the Eleventh division arrayed before the forbidding giant, that single amber eye seeming to be looking straight at them. Whether this was a hallucination created by his killing intent or some dark murderous kidō magic only their captain could lay claim to was not certain. But they all bit back the wholly natural fear his promise engendered in them, and hit back with a chorus of, "YES, ZARAKI-TAICHOU!"

For a while, the killer from the streets just stared at them, letting all get a feel for how completely serious he was about that last statement.

Then he grinned, and brandishing his sword, the maniac captain let loose a laugh that they all recognized as a prelude to bloodshed. Caught up in his fervor, the shinigami horde howled eagerly in response.

Kenpachi then spun about and stalked off, his ragged cloak fluttering like a banner of war. His pace took him towards the gates leading off of his division grounds, where two figures could be seen leaning against the wall, waiting patiently for their general to approach.

Coming upon them at last, Zaraki eyed both fighters in a way that gave them the impression he was imagining their heads on spikes. But that was nothing new. Besides, Yumichika reflected, it would be the most beautiful decapitation ever seen. At least in his case.

For his part, Ikkaku Madarame simply draped his arms over the sheathed sword slung over his shoulders and watched his leader's approach.

The bell-capped behemoth swept by them, and his adjutants took up pace behind.

"You certainly left them foaming at the mouth, Taichou," Ayasegawa trilled pleasantly.

This earned him a grunt. He noticed how their warlord had yet to return his nameless sword to its scabbard. According to the vice-captain, 'Kenny' was resolved not to sheathe his blade again unless it was in the stomach of one of the rebel captains. The image of all three of those men skewered on the Kenpachi's weapon like so much shish-kabob caused a slight smile to play upon his lips, and he chuckled ruefully.

As if on cue, Ikkaku took this moment to speak his mind.

"This has gotta be the most shit-assed strategy I have ever seen. What kind of brain-dead idiot cooked it up, anyway?"

Striding on ahead, Zaraki either hadn't heard this statement or more likely didn't care to respond one way or another, being wholly preoccupied now with thoughts of the coming carnage. So Madarame's lifelong companion took up the conversational slack.

"It's called 'divide and conquer', Ikkaku. And the infant happens to be Yamamoto-sotaichou himself. We're just here for the party, so what's the use in questioning our host's tastes?"

"Peh! More like 'united we stand, divided we fall'," the bald berserker spit, slouching along in his bow-legged manner. "If it was me on the other side of this mess, there wouldn't be any doubt of the best strategy. I'd be storming the walls of Seireitei by myself if need be. And I sure wouldn't be traipsing through the mortal world like some kid on vacation from the academy! Why the hell is everybody so convinced Aizen's gonna show up there, when the folks he's gotta kill are all right here?"

His colorful associate was busily dabbing a light amount of scent from a bottle onto his throat. The unmistakable whiff of sandalwood caused Yumichika to close his eyes with a sigh, then reopen them and gaze blissfully up at the wide blue sky.

"Oh, it's something to do with him trying to open up a door to the King by slaughtering all the humans living in Karakura with his magic rock." Slipping the vial back into his robes, he gave a graceful flip of his hair with one hand, rubbing his fingers back through the silky black tresses luxuriously. "Hmmm," the Fifth seat mused reflectively. "You know, even when I say it, it sounds ridiculous. The man really must be a few roses short of a dozen if he thinks that's going to work. Pure moonshine, really."

"If this turns out to be a wild goose chase, it's going to seriously piss me off," the other fighter groused. "Guarding a bunch of dimensional pillars? All I can say is, they'd better have somebody worth fighting when I get there. I want at least one of those Espada under my belt by the time this war is over."

"Assuming Kurosaki Ichigo and Abarai-san have left any for you. They've been at it over in Hueco Mundo for at least a day now. For all we know the place is a smoking ruin."

"Ichigo?"

It was their captain who spoke, and the two men clammed up to listen.

Plowing on to their destination, the walking war machine bared his teeth like a dog scenting a hare.

"By now, that boy has probably run face-first into a wall of _vasto lorde_. That's the only reason I let him go off without me, so's he could rile up that hornet's nest to get the big guns' attention! Soon as he bites off more than he can chew, I'll be ready to pick up the slack." There was a fey glint in his eye that betokened something even madmen would have cause to fear. "Can't waste an opportunity like this. Folks in need of killing over there, and I'm just happy to oblige!"

The trio kept walking for a while in silence.

Then the Third seat spoke. "A month's salary says the Three Bastards pop up here while we're off chasing butterflies through the clouds."

"I'll take those odds." Yumichika grinned and skipped in anticipation of the coming hostilities. "This is a time for wonders, you know? I never thought I would find something that Mayuri Kurotsuchi and I could agree upon. It really would have been a good idea, mining the streets of the Rukongai in case the captains' strategy turned out to be misinformed. Showed a certain heedless disregard for casualties on either side. Pity they shouted him down." He blew out his breath in desultory fashion, then seemed to grow thoughtful. "Although, truth be told, he didn't seem all that miffed by it. Makes me wonder if he had something even more devious up his sleeve."

"That one? Count on it," Ikkaku grunted.

* * *

"No doubt the Kuchiki family will be implementing their design within minutes of the captains abandoning this plane for the earthly one." In a dimly-lit chamber designed to prevent eavesdropping, Captain Kurotsuchi wagged one blue-nailed finger at the assembled scientists in his employ. "When they do, I want you to monitor the proceedings. Get me a good idea of just how well or poorly they've really done their homework. Something like this doesn't come along every day, you know."

His chief assistant, Akon, cocked his head inquisitively. "If the procedure starts to go wrong, shall we try and rectify it on our end?"

"And miss a chance to see it all go bad? Oh my, no," the scientific horror chortled. "I do enjoy a good amateur performance, after all."

"Ah… Mayuri-sama?"

The crowd of white-robed academics parted slightly, revealing the fidgeting form of Rin Tsubokura. Beneath his superior's direct gaze, the normally anxious little death god looked even more like a mouse crouching before a rabid bear. But all the same, he continued speaking.

"Sir, I don't… mean to intrude, but… shouldn't we be prepared to be… of assistance in such an event? I mean…" the bug-eyed gopher swallowed what felt like a cantaloupe in his dry throat as Mayuri continued to regard him closely. "It _is_ a venture instituted by the Patroness, so perhaps it would be in our interest to…"

Captain Kurotsuchi covered his mouth with the back of one hand and yawned extravagantly. At this point, Rin's survival instincts took over, and he clapped his jaws shut before another word could be uttered. Past experience told him he had been one syllable away from spending the rest of his days floating in a glass jar.

"We weren't asked for help, and so they will get none. Our arrangement was very clear." A snap of the captain's fingers prevented any further intrusions on his command. "You all have your assignments. I want sufficient storage capabilities for whatever I bring back from Hueco Mundo. Bulldoze the squad barracks if you have to. Now, off with you all. Shoo, shoo!"

He flicked one hand dismissively. However, as they all began to disperse, Mayuri called out, "Oh, Rin-san!"

Attempting to vanish into the press of his colleagues, the little lab rat shivered with the presentiment that he was about to be brought to task for his prior indiscretion. Miserably, Tsubokura trotted over to stand trembling before his unpredictable and distinctly psychotic boss.

The head of the R&D Bureau clapped his hands behind his back and gazed down at his junior assistant for a good thirty seconds before finally deciding to speak. By this point, they were quite alone in the room, and one of them was feeling the implications of that situation for all that it was worth.

"Well, now," the captain drawled. "I was wondering which of you lot I would pick to handle this particular venture, and here one up and volunteers herself."

Any opportunity to correct the captain on his gender disappeared when Mayuri took hold of the pony-tail on Rin's forehead and jerked up, bringing the sweating scientist's eyes in line with his own. "Tsubokura-san, since you seem so delicately attuned to the topic of our obligations in that regard, you'll be pleased to handle this for me."

There was nothing friendly in the grin that Mayuri was wearing now. His eyes sparkled in a way that those familiar with him could tell was a prelude to something absolutely awful and definitely illegal.

"In the interests of paying off our debts, while I'm occupied collecting specimens, I want you to busy yourself preparing Subject 16 of Project: Deathly Debutante."

Defying all logic, Rin's eyes managed to grow even bigger then.

"But sir, that's…!"

He shut up immediately, but Mayuri cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, you were about to say?"

No way to avoid it now. Managing to work up enough saliva to speak but not choke on, Tsubokura answered tremulously, "Mayuri-sama, the Patroness specifically forbade you to use that particular method. She was… pretty vehement on the subject. Wouldn't you risk alienating her by employing such a tactic? Subject 21 was what you both agreed upon. Right?"

The Egyptian-motif features fell, no more even attempting to look pleasant. Kurotsuchi's golden eyes rolled off to one corner of the room, and he began slowly wagging Rin's head from side to side. For his part, the captive made no effort to halt this treatment.

After a while, the captain sucked air through his teeth and let it out in a slow hiss.

"I predict…" he spoke in a voice that trembled with a blend of passion and fury, "…that once the Patroness has come to…appreciate… the full force of what we are up against, she will reconsider her prior objections and be all too eager to see things brought to a more or less favorable conclusion. The costs will be negligible, in my opinion. And 16 remains the option with the greatest chance of success, in spite of its limitations, as I attempted to explain to her. Without a doubt, our Patroness will have no reason to complain after my work has proven its worth." He glanced down sharply then. "You don't have any doubts, do you, little one?"

A quick shake of the head confirmed Rin did not.

"Splendid!" And so Kurotsuchi released him. "Scamper away, now. I have things I must do."

The miserable henchmen obeyed, scurrying off to leave the master mage to his own company.

"I will meet dear Rukia's needs," Mayuri chuckled, rubbing his hands together. "It's the mark of a truly superior intellect that can fulfill others' objectives while achieving their own at the same time. A most civilized undertaking, in my opinion. Now, to work. Nemu!" he barked. "Nemu, you dolt, where are you?"

Casting his gaze about, the parthenogenic parent was momentarily stymied by the conspicuous absence of his personal pet. Then a memory came of her saying something unbidden a while ago.

"Ah, that's right," he ruminated disinterestedly. "She's off keeping traditions with the others. Well, no matter."

And with that, he lit his new solid gold diamond-studded pipe and made his way into the depths of his lair to prepare.

* * *

Once the cups of fragrant tea had been placed before each of the assembled lieutenants, Chojirō Sasakibe led them in a formal toast.

"Before battle, we raise a cup to those who are among us. Afterwards, for those who are no more."

He then took a drink, and the rest followed suit.

"Whew!" Rangiku Matsumoto declared. "That's intense! Isane-san, are you sure you didn't slip a little something extra in there to soup it up?"

The silver-haired healer lowered her own drink. "It's not that, Rangiku-san. This is the _Tenkanmuri_ tea leaf."

"_Heavenly Crown_," Nanao Ise mused, absently noticing how steam from the beverage was fogging up her glasses. "You don't see that every day."

"BLECH!" the pink-haired imp beside her stuck out her tongue and made a face. "This tastes like spit-up!" She then glanced eagerly around. "Who brought me a treat?"

"Here, Yachiru-fukutaichou," Hisagi Shuhei said as he swiftly held out a small lollipop. "I came prepared."

Kusajishi squealed in delight and went for the offered confection head-first, prompting the steely-eyed combatant to snatch his fingers back or risk losing them. He wouldn't have been the first, after all, and Hisagi believed in learning from others' mistakes.

As the youngest member of their group was preoccupied with her candy, sad-eyed Momo Hinamori stood up. Several people noticed how pale and wan she seemed, but refused to comment on it. Her determination to attend this ceremony was proof to them at least that her spirit remained undiminished, regardless of the state of her body. It would have to be enough.

"I'd like to take this opportunity to say that I'm glad to have been able to know you all," the slight maiden confessed, and bowed humbly to the whole party. "Working with so many extraordinary people has been a great blessing for me. If we never meet again, please understand that I hold you all in the highest regard."

She retook her seat, and they stared at her for a time. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly become somber. Into that charged silence, then, a loud voice brayed.

"NAAH!" the Second seat of Squad Two exhaled from his prodigious lungs. "Listen to you, sounding off like a mourning bell! I thought for sure if anybody was going to bring this party down, it would be Izuru over there!" He hooked a thumb in the direction of the downcast blonde lieutenant, who bristled immediately.

"Why don't you stuff a rice cracker in your mouth for the rest of this meeting? Actually, make that for the rest of this war!"

"Wha'd you say?" the rotund assassin's piggy eyes flashed in offended pride.

"Simmer down."

Slumped quietly with his hooded gaze cast to the floor, Tetsuzaemon Iba still commanded instant respect with his deep, rumbling voice. The bare-chested veteran rolled his broad shoulders before lifting his cup and downing the contents with one gulp. "We're all comrades here, right? If there's anything someone wants to address before we go our separate ways, now's the time to do it. While we're all still alive to listen."

None of them spoke. Each seemed to be pondering what they might have kept hidden in their secret hearts, weighing what they felt and debating whether or not to risk letting it be known.

Then Matsumoto reclined back on her side and rested her chin in one hand, golden hair spilling over the floor, eyes closed and generally affecting an aura of extreme indolence.

"Well, I'm not naming any names, but apparently a while back some of the folks in this room tried to convince a kid from my division to provide them with my personal daily report logs."

There were gasps and shocked exclamations from everyone else present. All, that is, except for Nemu Kurotsuchi, whose deadpan face and unblinking eyes gave her the impression of being mesmerized by a point on the wall. Unbeknownst to her fellow lieutenants, however, she was quite capable of seeing everything around her for a good 335 degree radius.

As such, her careful scrutiny was able to detect the frantic looks that flashed briefly between two men.

"Nothing came of it," Rangiku continued, running a hand slowly through her forest of rich auburn hair, "but just to clear things up, you don't have to resort to such tactics. I'm willing to entertain anyone who's got the nerve to approach me, for varying lengths of time. And furthermore…"

Startling blue eyes opened then, and the teensiest smirk caused her luscious lips to gleam.

"I find tattoos to be excruciatingly sexy."

The reaction to this statement proved to be shocked silence, which Nemu also recorded.

When no one else spoke, the bouncy lieutenant sighed and slid upright 'til she towered over the seated assembly in all her womanly glory.

"If there are no more secrets to spill, I'd better be getting back to my captain. He gets lonely when I'm gone, you know. Practically reduced to tears sometimes."

She glanced at the stupefied crowd, but when no further revelations were forthcoming, Rangiku shrugged lightly before trotting to the door. Right on the frame, though, she turned back about, and with an uncharacteristically solemn air, whispered, "Take care of yourselves. And come share a drink with me when the fighting's done. You're all invited, no exceptions or excuses." The beautiful lady clapped her arms to her sides and bowed low.

Struck by this display, not a one of them even thought to look down her shirt.

She righted herself, and before anyone could see the tears that were gathering in her eyes, she was gone in a blur of flash steps.

At the head of the rows of kneeling fighters, the First division lieutenant rose and inclined his head to them all. Taking this as a sign that the ceremony was complete, the rest followed suit, acknowledging their fellows as equals with nods and silent looks. They then proceeded to file out.

"Hisagi-san."

Having just stepped out onto the covered walkway, the tattooed all-star turned to find himself confronted by the black-masked gaze of Tetsuzaemon. The mustachioed Yakuza had his coat flung over one shoulder. Without speaking, he held out a callused hand.

Understanding instantly, the other man reached out, and they clasped forearms in a firm shake. At that point, Iba's head dropped, and he murmured something in a low voice. Shuhei watched this with surprise, and when his friend came back up, the older man answered his unspoken question by saying, "A prayer. To the goddess of fortune."

A grin crossed his features, and he gave a nod of his spiky head. "For whomever she favors."

Tetsuzaemon returned the smile, before turning and strolling away.

Clearly on display across his muscular back was the tattoo of a Manekineko cat.

"Lucky," Hisagi breathed, and shook his head ruefully.

* * *

The white wizard blew out his breath and stood up.

"Leaving already?"

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he found Kyōraku Shunsui looking at him from his place on the floor with friendly, slightly glazed eyes.

"We need to be going, you know," Jūshirō spoke, a spritely gleam in his own gaze belying his age. "Our comrades depart for Hueco Mundo within the hour, and we have to make our own travel arrangements."

"Not even one final drink before you go? This could be the last time we ever share a cup with each other." His ancient playmate picked up a bottle and waved it enticingly.

Ukitake couldn't keep a smile off his face as he responded back, "I appreciate the offer, but I believe you've had enough 'last drinks' for one day. And unless I'm mistaken, that flask is empty."

"Ah, me," and he let the jug drop from his fingers to roll across the room. "I believe you're right."

Captain Ukitake sighed and moved over to where his zanpakutō rested against a wall.

"Unohana and Ukitake…"

He paused in the midst of slipping the sword into his belt.

"…and Kyōraku," the sprawled figure continued in wistful tones. "The Old Guard, they call us. These youngsters try so hard to get close to us, but we can never really let them. Because we know that they aren't like us. They're not strong in the way we are. We three have seen it all. We're the only ones we can count on to be there when the day ends, the only ones we can truly let in. We know everything there is to know about one another."

Sōgyo no Kotowari's comfortable weight settled against his body, as it had for thousands of years. Close to him, in a way that many young people would have liked to be. Some had actually been brave enough to proposition him.

He remembered all their faces.

"Are you a melancholy drunk today, Shunsui? I can never tell with you."

"Come on," the big man rose to a sitting position. "You know me better than that. I'm not drunk. Not by a long shot. What kind of fighter gets loaded right before he heads out to war?"

And Jūshirō turned to face him.

"The kind who thinks he will never die."

They stared at one another, with the soft golden rays of the sun passing through flimsy paper screens all around them.

Warm brown eyes flashed with mirth. "Are you worried for me, my friend?"

He cocked his head to one side, snow-white hair falling all around his head.

"I have been watching you try to drink yourself to death for nigh on two thousand years. Don't you know what it costs you? Why do you treat yourself this way? Is it because you think the drink is the only enemy strong enough to kill you?"

"No."

Shunsui watched him now with dull, weary eyes.

"It's because I don't know, either."

The ancient nobleman crossed over and knelt before him then.

"What are you saying?"

Dressed only in a brown sleeping yukata and hakama trousers, the god of wine studied the other captain's face intently.

"Unohana… and Ukitake," he mused. "Both of you together. But not me. We could die today, you know. So I think I'm going to ask you now, at last, what I was never strong enough to before."

A shiver stole over the other man, and he made to stand, but before he could, a strong hand reached up and grasped his sleeve.

"What…?" Ukitake whispered.

"Why don't you tell me something?" the husky master swordsman replied in a voice just as soft. "How come I'm never allowed there, when you and Unohana meet with Yamamoto? What do you three talk about when I'm not there?" When Ukitake only dropped his gaze to one side, his friendly inquisitor craned his face around to keep the other's in view. "What? Don't you guys trust me?"

"It is not an issue of trust," Jūshirō managed after a few seconds of silence. "It is more that we know you, and how you would respond to what we discuss."

"Don't tell me you think I'd find it boring, now. I wouldn't believe it, and neither would you."

The captain of Squad Thirteen did not speak for a while.

"Something being held against me? C'mon, what did I do to make you…?"

"Do?"

And their eyes met.

"You know exactly what you did, Shunsui. You destroyed the Shiba."

Kyōraku's brows lifted in surprise, and his mouth came open slightly. "Beg pardon?"

"Don't coddle me." Jūshirō's temper had flared at the attempt to be disingenuous. He had something of his own he had been restraining from saying. "You employed your resources and authority to crush them. It was subtle, I'll grant you, but I still know it was you. I even covered up all the evidence of it I could find."

"Really." The expression was flat, with a somewhat disparaging edge. "And why would you go and do a thing like that? Just because we're friends?"

Ukitake chose to take no offense from that tone. "No. Because I understood why you did it."

The Eighth division captain cocked his head to one side. "You should. You saw what that prick did to her. Hell, you were right there when he did it. Nothing you could do, right? Orders are orders, after all." His words were sharp and no longer slurred. "Chopped the lady's head off right in front of her son, then he did the same for the boy. Doesn't matter what her husband did, or who told him to do it. Shiba shouldn't have done that."

Something low and dangerous came out of the back of Shunsui's throat then.

"So I made him pay for it."

The frost-haired captain stared down at his associate.

Then, suddenly, he gave a brief laugh.

"Ah, I see."

Kyōraku raised an eyebrow. Ukitake then reached out and removed his hand, gently disengaging it from his robe.

"So this is your way of answering the question. Oh, Shunsui," and he smiled at him with a trace of melancholia. "You truly had all of us fooled for so very long, now. You performed splendidly. But you've known what we three have been doing together all along, haven't you?" The saintly sorcerer stood and looked down at his oldest friend. "That was why it was necessary to drink and laugh and make a clown of yourself. That is what you are telling me. I only wish…" and now his smile was truly sad, "…that you might have told me sooner."

Kyōraku lay back and draped an arm over his brow, peering up at the ceiling.

"Didn't I tell you that I didn't know? That was why I couldn't do anything before."

Ukitake let his head dip. "Oh. I see. So that is why."

They remained in those positions without moving, without speaking. These were two people who had been in each others' lives long enough to dispense with unnecessary things.

Then the man in the white haori turned and moved away. Reaching the exit, he slid open the door, turning to take in what could be his final peaceful glimpse of this strange, mysterious man.

"Don't die, Shunsui."

And he closed the door.

"I won't," the tipsy tease called out from within.

Kyōraku listened to the soft sounds of his departure. Jūshirō moved like a ghost, but he could always tell it was him by his movements.

Fond wishes, from an old friend.

"After all this time…" he whispered to himself, "I don't believe I will ever die."

* * *

Gin was on the way back to his quarters when something called out to him.

With that he changed his mind and decided to instead return to the castle's topographic control center.

Upon opening the portal, he was greeted by the sight of Kaname Tosen bending over a bank of relays. Gin grinned in amusement and leaned against the doorframe.

"Like what ya see there, Kaname-san?"

The blind swordsman stood up without bothering to turn his head or acknowledge the quip. His carefully modulated voice echoed in the otherwise empty room. "Gin. I was about to seek you out."

"S'up? Aizen-taichou been lookin' for me?"

"I have spoken to Ulquiorra. You interfered with the progress of the intruders."

There was an unmistakable note of accusation in those words. As anyone who knew him could tell you, whenever Tosen spoke to someone in that manner, it was usually followed by a swift and violent explanation of the offending party's poor choice of actions. A wise man would be preparing himself to fight to keep his body intact by that point.

Ichimaru only shrugged.

"That was not part of Aizen-sama's strategy." Black braids swung as the sightless overseer turned to regard his partner head on. "His intention was to keep them active long enough for Soul Society to consider it worthwhile to send help. That is the entire purpose of bringing the girl to Hueco Mundo. If they die too soon, Yamamoto will surely be chary of our power and behave in a less bellicose manner. Our strategy would need to be altered as such."

"Yer awful anxious today, aren'tcha. Maybe Aizen-taichou could brew you up some tea. Settle those nerves down."

Kaname did not appear amused by the other renegade's behavior. His hand slipped down to the soul cutter securely fastened to his side. A deep tolling bell could be discerned as that black-gloved grip touched the blade.

"All of our efforts have culminated in this day. It is an epic moment, one that deserves to be treated with care and consideration. Your recklessness is no longer something I can excuse. If you insist on acting like a free radical in our ventures, I will be forced to teach you the error of your ways."

A sneer graced the silver-haired fighter's lips. "Without consultin' with Aizen-taichou first? That's awful brave o' you, Tosen-san."

Quietly, the zanpakutō Suzumushi withdrew from its sheathe.

"I am not playing games with you, Gin."

"I sure hope not, cuz it's a pretty boring one if you are. Byakuya Kuchiki couldn'ta thought up a worse one."

The former captain of the Gotei 13's Ninth division raised his weapon and leveled it straight between Ichimaru's eyes.

"Before you speak any further, it is only fair that I remind you of the shift in power between us recently. Whereas before you held a marginally superior hand, now the advantage is assuredly mine. Do not forget that."

Slender arms crossed over the floor-length white robe. "I ain't in danger of becoming forgetful anytime soon. Enjoy the rest of the show, why don'tcha." With that, Gin turned his back on that threatening figure without a qualm.

As he took the first step, though, a razor-sharp length of spiritual steel slid before his throat. The shinigami exile paused.

"I am stronger than you."

Kaname's breath whispered directly into his ear.

And the smile grew even wider.

"Then I wonder how come…" Gin turned his head ever so slightly, letting a semi-closed eye meet a permanently blind one, "…you're still afraid of me?"

This close, he could feel Kaname's heart-rate quicken, and it made him smirk all the wider.

"That must be especially tough fer you, Tosen-san. I mean, considerin' that you're as strong now as you're ever gonna be. S'like that one last hope just got taken away."

That seemed enough, judging by the way the bared blade trembled, so he decided to leave the rest unsaid.

A moment later, Suzumushi was withdrawn from his jugular.

Ichimaru then walked on without bothering to look back. He heard his ally once more return the sword to its resting place, and only then did he bother to speak.

"You oughta have some more faith in the guys you chose to desert with. We both know how good Aizen-taichou is. And power aside, some of us got experience with revolutions."

He raised a hand in parting. "Watch yer step 'til the party's over. Lotta ways for a blind man to get tripped up. Don't lose sight o' that, now!"

* * *

The uprising has failed.

It will be another century before foreign ships from the barbaric nation to the east arrive to force their brute presence on the denizens of this magnificent island, who are favored by heaven. Now matters closer to home have taken center stage. What began as another protest against rising taxes in the farming communities has snowballed into full-scale revolt. Those who have received the calling of the strange Western religion that began to take root here a few decades back assure their neighbors that were they to take up arms against the government, the angels would smile on their endeavors.

This time, however, the eyes of heaven would seem to be closed.

The warrior class has been brought in. Their response to any perceived rebellion is swift and brutal. Homes are burned, livestock slaughtered or confiscated, fields put to the torch. As for the common folk themselves, they are put to the sword, regardless of age or gender.

Now penniless soot-stained vagabonds roam the hills and forests. Some of them seek shelter in other hamlets, only to be turned away for fear of bringing the wrath of the Shogunate down upon them as well. Their only recourse is to wander through the countryside, fearful that at any given moment, the alarm will be sounded. Or worse, that there will be no warning, and the men wearing swords and topknots will descend upon them all unknowing and slaughter them while they sleep. Any sound at night serves to wake half a hundred people, all of them scanning the shadowy woods in search of attackers. No fires are permitted after dark, as the blessed light and heat might serve to give away their position. Food is scarce, and water hard to come by. Nevertheless, this particular group travels on.

Most of them came from a single village that was burned over a week ago. But in that time, their ranks have grown as more terrified villagers drift in to join them. Safety in numbers, some argue. Others voice shrill complaints that they are becoming too large and must split up in order to escape detection. In the end, nothing is done, and they press on. Not a single soul could be deemed the leader of this party, whether wise old ancient or strapping young man. The cries of children and women intermingle with the shouts, screams, and curses of men. There is little order to this unwieldy party.

However, on one topic they are all in agreement.

The boy is not permitted to share their company. He is an ill omen, if ever they saw one. He came wandering into their midst two days past, dirty and bedraggled, crying for someone to help him. The child could not be more than two years old. A pair of coarse trousers are his only concession to dress, and his feet are bare. Even under conditions such as these, surely some frail woman's heart should have reached out to such a clear picture of woe, yes?

But they do not approach him. If he comes too close to their rear when they march, all throw stones and shake sticks to chase him off until he returns. The children in particular are keen on pursuing the boy when he vanishes, determined to violently express their own feelings of hunger and fear on the outcast. Their parents will not permit it, though. Not out of any concern for that solitary toddler, but more for the lives of their own offspring.

Because they know that is what the _kitsune_ wants; to lure their precious lambs away from whatever meager protection their parents have to offer. But they are too clever for it.

The fox demon is tricky, but also clearly immature. Were it older, it would surely have found some way to disguise itself better. After all, hair like that on anyone so young is a sure sign of malevolent intent.

That silver hair is all the reason they need to fear the boy.

* * *

He is two years old.

That is all he remembers.

He knows that there were once many things in his head. Times he enjoyed, games he played, friends and family. But none of that seems to come clear when he searches for it in his mind. These last few days, all he remembers is…

"_**RUN!"**_

The last command someone who cared for him had screamed. He believes she might have been his mother, but when she said it she had been staggering down the street with her face covered in blood, so he cannot truly relate that terrified visage with the person who must have loved him. There had been smoke and flame everywhere, movement and voices raised in panic. It is a confusing blend of images, and he cannot even begin to understand it.

The boy with the silver hair does not remember his own name. He is hungry, and cold. He wants very much to go home, wherever that may be. He has no idea in which direction to go. Weariness in his limbs has long since passed away to the simple, urgent need to keep moving. Wandering lost in this endless forest, cries and howls seem to assail him from all sides. At times he has seen men in strange, frightening dress prowling amongst the trees, and avoided them with a well-honed sense of danger. Adults like this are to be shunned, that much he knows. So when he came upon the crowd of folks dressed in a way that seemed familiar to him, the child ran eagerly to them, calling out for a mother whose face swims and melts before his eyes.

The rocks they threw mostly went wide. When he froze in stupefied incomprehension, though, it made for a much easier target, and one stone clipped the side of his head. Panicked, he had turned and fled. Not far from there, though, the strength seemed to desert him, and he sprawled face-down in the dirt, weeping and moaning softly, curling up and eventually falling asleep from exhaustion.

A tantalizing scent awakens him. The rumbling in his belly lets him know that it is food which calls so plainly, and without thinking of the consequences he rises, driven by the most primitive need, to stumble in pursuit. That tempting aroma takes him back to the camp of the lost, where someone has managed to cook a few squirrels and birds over a low bank of coals. The desire for human company is like another kind of hunger in him, and the rich aroma seems to command he forget what happened before. It is daylight now, less to be afraid of, he will be quiet and smile to show he means no harm. Surely things will be different this time.

Stones and curses fly once more, and he flees.

Now the outcast simply follows along. There is no other option. He is growing weaker by the day. He cannot bring himself to go off alone into the woods again in search of friendlier faces, nor can he survive on his own. The leaves and berries he eats taste foul, but he cannot think of anything else to do. He needs to get with these people. Yet they will not have him.

It makes him so sad, but the tears do not seem to want to come anymore, no matter how hard he sobs in the night.

* * *

The sound of running water drew the bowman, soot-stained and sweaty in his armor, in the direction of what turned out to be a small stream.

Cursed peasants, he thought while dropping down to one knee by the brook. Was the promise of those Western priests so tempting that they would forsake their duties like this? And now his orders stated that he must travel with the main force from the castle until their captain received word that the uprising was over. One village burning started to blend in his mind with the next. The taste of ash seemed to coat his tongue. Feathering the screaming figures from a distance did not keep smoke from stinging his eyes, leaving them weeping and red to such an extent that one might think he actually felt remorse for taking their lives.

It was a false impression. This was simply how he made his living.

Removing his helm, the soldier splashed cool refreshing water onto his face, feeling it remove what seemed like months of hot unhealthiness but was really just a few days. He then proceeded to dunk his head completely into the icy rush, whipping back up and shaking his long black hair that had come undone from its topknot.

When his vision cleared, it was to see a ragged child crouched on the either side of the stream, wearing nothing but a breach-cloth. They watched one another. He must have been there the whole time, the soldier mused.

With that thought in mind, he picked up his bow from beside him, notched an arrow and aimed down its length.

The boy stared, transfixed.

What unusual hair, he thought, and let fly.

The shaft punched through the urchin's collarbone, spinning him around with the force of the attack. The slight body hit the ground, but instead of lying there, it rose instantly and dashed back into the woods.

"Demon child," the dutiful warrior wondered out loud, impressed in spite of himself.

That head would surely be worth presenting to their lord.

So decided, he went and informed the rest of his squad.

Returning to the site of the incident, they simply followed the trail of blood.

* * *

When the _kitsune_ came upon them at dusk with an arrow in its shoulder, screaming that they should run, the homeless children drove it away again. They raced back to tell their parents, who showered them with praise at seeing through the demon's clever scheme. It made them feel very proud.

Ten minutes later, the sound of noises from the trees had the children immediately rushing forth eagerly to once again punish the silver spirit.

They did not heed their elder's cries this time, so intent were they on forgetting their miserable lot for a few glorious moments.

One or two rocks rattled off the samurai armor, and by then it finally dawned upon the hunters that they were nothing of the sort.

After that, the soldiers answered with a volley of their own missiles.

The ghost fox had taken its revenge upon them.

* * *

For the first time in days, he was not hungry. Nothing so meager could compare to the all-consuming pain that made that previous dull ache seem like heaven by comparison. Blood streamed down his chest, and with every move he made, the cruel steel arrowhead seemed to tear further at his insides. He hadn't even realized what the man was doing until after the projectile hit, and by then it was too late.

His body moved from shock more than anything. When wounded like this, most beasts experienced a surge of strength that was drawn directly from their own souls, enabling them to try and escape, to perhaps live and see another day. It had nothing to do with sense or the condition of their bodies. Depending on the power of one's spirit, you could actually get very far, in spite of the damage that had been done to you.

In his case, the silver-haired boy ran for the rest of the day and on through the night, stumbling and falling only to rise again. Long after the stitch in his side had disappeared and his feet were torn and bloody, he continued on, running into trees, hitting his head on branches. All remaining rational thought had fled from his mind.

At midmorning the next day, long after the soldiers behind him had finished with their sport on that sorry lot of refugees and moved on to fresh pickings, his foot caught in a root, and his ankle snapped with a wet crunching sound.

The child ran on for another hour.

Between one step and the next, he collapsed, to find he was no longer capable of rising. Try though he might, his body would not respond with even the slightest movement of a finger. Wheezing in great lungfuls of air was the best he could manage, face buried to one side in dry leaves that clung to his sweat-stained skin. The arrow had snapped from the impact of a fall some while back, but even like this, he could no longer feel the sickening agony of it. His head was warm and swimming, and he recognized it as a prelude to sleep. A relief, he thought to himself as darkness claimed his vision.

I am so very tired.

With that, he finally permitted himself to rest.

When he opened his eyes sometime later, the child found that he was standing upright. All his weariness had vanished as well. The weight that had settled on his limbs and inside the pit of his stomach was finally gone after what seemed like forever. It was so utterly unexpected and magnificent that the boy actually laughed with glee, raising his head and stretching his arms skyward.

He looked up to heaven, watching the fingers move and thinking how good it was to be alive.

He looked down at the ground, to find that he was dead.

A body lay stretched in the dirt. There was virtually nothing about it that he recognized as belonging to himself, so pitiable and dirty did it seem. The disparity with how he knew he looked was so great he might have been convinced that it was not him lying there.

Silver hair let him know that it was all a lie, though.

Dark brown eyes stared lifelessly off into the distance, and those selfsame orbs looked down, as the newly-liberated spirit contemplated his own mortal remains.

After a while, he shut his eyes.

The boy counted as high as he knew, and then slowly cracked his eyelids up.

A hurried glimpse confirmed the presence of the corpse was still there. Nothing had changed, and with a sob he swiftly closed his ghostly vision again, not bothering to wonder if a spirit did indeed have eyes to see with. Whatever he was doing, he did not question it. Comforting darkness surrounded him, and once again, he counted. This time he did it twice, to give his prayers more time to reach heaven.

When that didn't work, he did it three times.

Then four.

The dead soul beseeched anyone or anything to come and save him.

He was not sure how many times he had counted, when he looked down to find his cadaver being torn apart by wolves.

They were ripping and tearing at his unresponsive stringy frame, spattering the forest floor with his blood. Three mangy canines were feasting on all that he recognized as his own, and with a frantic scream he lunged at them.

"GET AWAY, GET AWAY FROM THERE, I'M NOT DEAD! DON'T EAT ME, I'M NOT DEAD YET!"

His cries went unnoticed. The beasts paid no heed to those wild flailing blows, which passed through them without any sign of disturbance. The predators had seen enough ghosts these last few weeks to make them immured to such events, registering as they did only dimly on their simple brains. The cries of a spirit made no matter to them, and so ten minutes later they finished their meal and departed in search of more.

Their spectral victim had shut off his sight once more. When the sounds of slaughter finally disappeared, he let his eyes open a crack. It was enough to see a lump of meat and bone, along with several hanks of blood-stained silver hair.

There was nothing else he recognized.

"I want to go home," he whispered.

A cold wind blew, but the lonely specter did not feel it. He remained where he was, waiting for someone to lay claim to him, be it heaven or hell. Unfortunately, the shinigami were kept very busy by the press of so many of the living being slaughtered in this vicinity, and no one took note of the single solitary soul that floated by itself in the woods. It was simply an oversight on their part.

The boy's ghost did not leave that spot for a week. His eyes remained somewhat shut at all times, as if by this small act of defiance he could overcome the truth of the world that had been laid bare to him. Being in this state, he had plenty of time to think.

What could I do now?

As he pondered this question, his hands reached up to brush the broken chain attached to his chest.

Then a howl of whose like he had never known came from somewhere around him, and with that sound, he realized that he was still not safe.

And so months passed as he learned to remain hidden.

In that time, he was deeply concerned when a hole in his chest began to appear.

* * *

Orihime Inoue was weeping and crying hysterically. Before her, Ichigo Kurosaki lay dead once again, the mask crumbling away and his body reverting back to its normal human state.

The boy's killer watched this with something akin to relief, he himself being on the verge of death.

Ulquiorra Schiffer, _Cuarta Espada_ and _vasto lorde_, contemplated his impending demise, along with everything else around him.

At this time, there were four captain-class shinigami loose in Las Noches. While he had initially considered their combined strength to be something he could reasonably handle, the preceding combat had served to render his prior calculations moot. Now all the signs pointed to him not even being able to handle the least of those invaders should they come upon him at this point. While his frustratingly unreasonable opponent was assuredly dead this time (third time's the charm, they say), his own condition told him that he was dangerously close to such a conclusion himself.

The arrancar's black and green eyes stared at that lifeless form. A small irrational part of his mind expected another absurd miracle to take place, allowing the callow youth to rise once more, but he quickly discounted that idea. There were no more surprises left in store for him, it seemed. All that remained was evaluating his best option at this time.

So, then, he thought to himself as his lost limbs slowly began to rejuvenate, what am I to do?

I have lost a tremendous quantity of reiatsu, Ulquiorra confirmed to his displeasure. On top of this, my body has received injuries that I doubt I am capable of recuperating in any acceptable time, if at all. He once more took in the sight of the three figures, two living and one quite dead, that remained before him. The Quincy had suffered enough damage that he need not be considered a threat (not that he ever had been). As for the woman, she warrants consideration, but I will leave that for later. I still have a small window of time to confirm my decision on how to proceed.

The eye of Schiffer now moved on to what was occurring below, in the palace proper. Apparently Rudobon and his Exequias had been dispatched. Of the _Espada_ left alive in Hueco Mundo other than himself, only the Tenth was fully functional, and that was about as useful as having a talking boulder for an ally. Not a single one of the shinigami and their cohorts whom Aizen had imprisoned in this dimension before departing for Earth had been slain (other than the Kurosaki boy, of course). And apparently, several of their number were actively healing any injuries their more martial brethren had earned while dispatching the rest of his comrades.

Ulquiorra absently wondered if his superiors were doing any better in the other world.

At this point the crescendo of pain he had been assiduously disregarding became too great to ignore, and once more he found himself assessing what needed to be done with full knowledge of how his life was slipping away by the moment.

Aizen-sama left me to protect Las Noches in addition to my other duties. Unfortunately, in my current state I am not fit to do so. I could perhaps kill the one up here and the three preoccupied with Yammy, but after that I would no doubt fall before one of the captains, especially the female one. My odds of survival if I remain in this state are not good. I must therefore conclude that, in order to fulfill at least some of the obligations entrusted to me, I must resign myself to letting Las Noches be taken by the enemy. Such a concession is by no means permanent, and once improvements have been made to my condition, a more acceptable outcome can be arranged. That would seem to be…

At that instant his previously reforming wing simply crumpled into ash.

With no small amount of surprise, Ulquiorra realized that he was now living on borrowed time, and so proceeded to accelerate his timetable for thinking.

The problem: my reserves are drained, I am injured past the hope of recovery, and I am fading fast.

The solution: I need a miracle.

And thanks to whatever mad god rules our fates, such a recourse is within my reach.

I know what I must do.

* * *

"Kurosaki-kun!"

Inoue reached out a trembling hand to the motionless form. She repeated his name over and over, in the hope that she could call him back from yet another state of oblivion. Hadn't Ichigo proven time and time again that he was able to survive what would have surely obliterated anybody else? Didn't that make it reasonable to assume that he could pull off such a feat again? It certainly made sense to her, and so the young beauty, whose previously unusual mental state was now in danger of spiraling into full-fledged mania without her knowledge, continued to call out to the only thing in the world that now made sense.

"Kurosaki-kun! KUROSAKI-KUN!"

She was therefore not altogether surprised when she heard her own name a moment later.

"INOUE-SAN!"

I knew it, I knew he was alive! Look, didn't I tell yo…!

Wait a second, Ichigo doesn't call me Inoue-s…

Ulquiorra then swooped in and seized her by the throat.

Choking, the struggling hostage was lifted off her feet to flail helplessly in the air before her attacker. From behind she could hear someone she now recognized as the wounded Ishida Uryū attempting to come to her aid.

Before the Quincy could even drag himself off the ground, though, her own personal nightmare reached behind him and tore open a hole in the air before falling back into it, dragging Orihime with him.

The two of them plummeted through a dizzying expanse, seeming to be caught in the flow of some intangible interdimensional current. Through her teary-eyed gaze, it looked as though the pair of them were descending towards a white light off in the distance, surrounded by a tunnel of swirling gray and black shadows. Before she could ponder the heavenly implications of such a vista, though, the prince of hell throttling her spoke.

"Heal me."

Now Orihime looked at him. The _Espada's _face looked as blank and unconcerned as she had come to associate with him. However, this was belied by the fact that his wispy half-formed arm and legs were now dissolving away faster than they had grown back, along with his wings. The grip on her throat was no less painful, but something let her know that if she just held out for a little bit more, even a few seconds maybe, then that too would be gone, along with this wicked demon responsible for having torn the heart out of her own world.

And so she managed to force out just enough sound through her constricted airways to make herself heard.

"No…"

He shook her then, like she was nothing more than a misbehaving child, and the terrified human couldn't help but be afraid in spite of her prior ice-cold evaluation of her situation.

"Heal me or die with me. Those are your only options."

"_This is no negotiation. You have been given a command."_

Those were the words he had spoken to her the last time the two of them had faced off on the path between worlds. Then, as now, she recognized that he was not trying to scare her. The Hollow was simply letting her know how her opinion had no value. Even though he had just admitted to being about to perish, he still didn't sound scared. Regardless of the clear evidence of his imminent demise, Orihime couldn't shake the feeling that just with those words, he had eliminated any other future for her other than the ones he had chosen, by the use of some mysterious power that was known only to him.

The light was growing brighter ahead of them, and Inoue closed her eyes against it. He would kill her. She knew that. She had always known that this creature in particular was perfectly willing to end her life. More than Grimmjow or Aizen or even that nasty Ichimaru, Ulquiorra Schiffer held her aspirations and continued existence with as little regard as he would were she already dead.

But so what?

Even if he doesn't care about me, I certainly do. And I don't want to heal him, not after what he just did. I won't heal you, the one I want to heal is…

"Kurosaki-kun."

The girl whispered the name, one that had come to mean everything magnificent and splendid to be found in her life. If she truly was going to die, then let it be knowing that her last thought was of him, wherever he might be. If Ichigo Kurosaki was no longer among the living, then she would join him in that state, and maybe then she could finally find the courage to open her heart to him and let him know that she…

Just then, the grip on her throat fell away.

"Orihime…"

That voice!

Could it be?

Immediately, her lids sprang open, and she looked ahead of her…

To see the battered, orange-haired champion of her heart staring right back.

"Orihime…" Ichigo whispered through lips that dripped red, the scraps of his coat doing nothing to hide the horrific injuries that wept crimson fluid all over his body. "Please … please, Orihime… I need you… you're the only one…"

She could have screamed with joy. It was real! He had come back to her, he truly had! No way to tell how or why, except perhaps that it was simply meant to be. Anyway, it didn't matter. It had all been a bad dream; the fight, the dying, Ulquiorra, all of it! There he was, his hazel eyes beseeching her so ardently, begging her to aid him in the way that she alone was capable of, no one else.

The pins on her temples glowed, and then fragmented into glowing arcs of light. These the hopeful priestess sent winging forth to wrap around her beloved's frame, enveloping him in her pure rejection of everything that might be wrong with his being. She poured all her heart into the casting, letting him feel her love in its unquestioning intensity. I'm not afraid to tell him anymore, she realized. I thought that I had lost him back there, and when I did, I realized how stupid it is to not tell the person you love how you feel for them.

These thoughts seemed to empower her fairy familiars, and the magical ellipsis they cast between them flared even brighter than usual. Within it she could just barely see peace and relief easing the pain from Kurosaki's face, those harried features settling now into blissful relief. He had never looked more handsome to her. Ichigo's body, so strong and noble, was eased back into its rightful state by her hands. Orihime then concentrated on restoring his reiatsu, transmitting all that she was capable of achieving into that almost completely depleted form 'til it was once more brimming with strength and energy.

As the light began to fade, she clasped her hands before her, tears streaming down her face. Thank you, dear God, she thought while gazing upon his unblemished countenance. Thank you for giving me this power, and for allowing me to use it here today. I will never take the life you have given us for granted again.

So decided, Inoue reached up and placed her hands against his face.

Never again. I'll never lose you again. This I swear.

And before she could allow her heart to grow faint, the tender-hearted healer leaned in and placed her soft, full lips gently against his own.

Closing her eyes, she gave of herself to him in the most intimate expression of love a young girl could dream of.

Her heart was pounding, her face was flushed, her mind was giddy. Orihime moved her mouth against its mate, rapturously seeking out everything this experience could offer.

"Kurosaki-kun," she murmured in between kisses.

For his part, he did not speak. Nor did he seem to be registering her bold act, by the way his mouth remained cold and unmoving.

Could it be… he didn't want it?

Feeling just a little unnerved by her presumption, her loving brown gaze fluttered open beseechingly.

The eyes of a snake stared unblinkingly back at her.

"U…"

A numbness spread from the points of their contact, through her fingers, her lips. Horrified, Orihime jerked back, gasping for air.

The sight in front of her was too horrible to be real.

As if to once more refute her version of reality, the completely restored Ulquiorra Schiffer regarded her dispassionately before simply turning his back on this display.

The realization of what had been done to her hit full force.

"No," she whispered, clutching her hands to her chest, where her heart felt like it was about to explode. And again, "No!" Shaking her head violently, face twisting, Orihime clawed at her face, tears streaming unnoticed down her cheeks. The world was spinning, her mind was going with it, and the distraught maiden dropped to her knees, drew breath and shrieked in utmost agony, "**NOOOOOOO!"**

Continuing to observe their progress, the _Espada_ allowed her to run out of breath and fall to weeping miserably behind him. Only then did he say, in a disinterested tone and without so much as a backward glance, "I told you to stop overreacting to every little thing. It's tiresome."

When they came out at their destination, she was still crying, and he still didn't care.

* * *

"What… the hell… is this?" Kurosaki breathed incredulously.

The crater in Ichigo's chest had simply closed on its own, and when he stood up whole and well, Ishida wondered just what the hell he was missing.

"Ichigo," the Quincy archer coughed. Only then did the bewildered lout seem to recognize he was impaled against the ground by a black katana. Stumbling forward, Ichigo grasped the sword's hilt, then paused, staring with horrified uncertainty down at his spitted classmate.

"Do it," Uryū coughed. "Just be quick about GURK!"

The sword slid out of him, and his insides clenched around the sudden hole in his stomach. Dammit, that HURT, you stupid sunnuva…!

Control, Quincy, control.

"Help me up, already."

Ichigo responded with a scowl, but proceeded to do so. He tried his best not to look at the stump where Ishida's hand had been, or to wonder how his sword had wound up in the other teen's stomach. But one question he simply had to know the answer to.

"Where's Orihime?"

One good arm draped over the shinigami substitute's shoulder, the sorcerer stumbled across the dome with him towards the opening back into the inner sanctum. "Schiffer took her through a Garganta." He tried very hard not to let the despair he was feeling color his next words. "We seem to have driven him off for the time being."

"How…?"

A venomous look from his comrade let Kurosaki know that perhaps now was not the best time to ply the injured man with unnecessary questions. He recognized that expression as being the one his father gave him whenever he tried unsuccessfully to help them out at the clinic. It meant that he was being a very big pest in a very serious situation, and he should refrain from interfering. It was perhaps the only time when his goofy parent seemed to be the less embarrassing of the two, so he got the message quick.

It was hard to say what he was feeling right now. Apparently his long-awaited duel with the deadly powerful Fourth Espada had resulted in neither of them being able to deliver a deathblow. But Inoue had once again been spirited away. He couldn't perceive what might be happening with the rest of their party, as his senses were not as keen as others. But as far as he could tell, there didn't seem to be anything major going on right now. That being the case, he should focus on the thing that took immediate priority, namely getting help for the wounded Ishida.

"I'll get you to Rukia," he finally came up with. "She's good at healing, she can take care of your stomach at least. As for your arm…"

"Don't trouble Kuchiki-san," the white-clad defender immediately countermanded him, which Ichigo was somewhat relieved to note still irritated the bejeezus out of him. "Captain Kurotsuchi is here, he is capable of restoring lost limbs. Find him, wherever he might be."

"Huh?" his assistant glanced over curiously. "I thought you hated that guy."

Sharp blue eyes stayed focused on their approaching egress from these heights. "You're not exactly on my list of favorite people either, but I'm in no condition to turn down help from any quarter." He breathed in deeply, and let it out. "I'll kill the vermin after this is all over, rest assured."

"Yeah. Whatever." His tone showed what he thought of that boast. At this stage, the Quincy didn't seem capable of killing a fly. Actually, the way he was sweating and hanging his head, he looked like he might pass out at any moment. Carrying the wounded man's total weight wasn't something he was looking forward to, so Ichigo did his best to try and keep the blood-stained bowman talking. "Let's just get you some help. At the very least, Neliel might be able to heal you."

"Who?" came weakly back. Good, that got his attention. Time for explanations.

"You remember Nel? Little brat with a big mouth? Well, turns out she's a former _Espada_. The Third, actually, and a total powerhouse. Not only that, she's a full-grown woman, can you believe it?" That comment seemed to get Uryū's attention, so he proceeded on that course. "She got her power back when I was in trouble and pulled the head off the creep who crippled her before."

"Are you being serious?"

"You think I'd lie? Why would I? The truth is stranger than anything I could come up with." He continued as they approached the hole's edge. "I'm telling you, she completely mutilated the guy. Took off all his arms and made him eat his own tongue before she sawed his ugly head off, then when his flunky tried to attack her, she used it to beat him to death." The memory of that white-clad bug howling and pleading as its master's severed skull was swung like a morning-star to bludgeon the life from it was something he was not going to forget anytime soon. At the time, all he could do was watch as the reborn _Tercera Espada _took out her understandable frustrations on the _fracción_. He wouldn't have interfered regardless of whether or not he had the excuse of being injured. Even before Neliel had explained the situation to him, he had the feeling that those two got what was coming to them. "Really made Kenpachi upset when he showed up late for it."

Plodding along beneath the night sky of Hueco Mundo, at last the pair came upon the hole in Aizen's palace roof to stare down uncertainly into a sunny expanse below them.

"So…" Ichigo drawled after a few moments. "Any idea how we get back down?"

"You're not going to throw me like you did with Rukia back at her execution, are you?"

"Don't tempt me," the lanky youth growled. "I'm serious, don't you have any Quincy items tucked away in that ridiculous cape of yours that could help us? Like a pair of wings or a rope even?"

"I'm not a survival kit, you idiot!" Ishida no longer seemed in danger of losing consciousness, although perhaps this was not as much of a relief as it had once been. "Just because I tend to come prepared doesn't mean there's one of everything stashed in my clothes."

"Sure seems that way sometimes," his surly human crutch offered. "Do you have any bandages, or some sewing thread? Maybe you could crochet a ladder for us."

"Why didn't you think to bring that flying cloak you had back in Soul Society?" Uryū shot back. "Seems it would have come in handy at a time like this."

A look of wonder slowly dawned on Kurosaki's face. "Dammit, why _didn't_ I think to bring the magic cape? I could have just flown to Las Noches with it and not bothered with all that running! What the hell was I thinking?"

"You weren't, as usual. This just goes to prove what a hopeless ignoramus you really are, I can't believe people keep mistaking you for the leader of our group, it's almost embarrassing how they…"

"Well, maybe if you manned up a little instead of spending all your time worrying about your clothes, people might actually mistake _you_ for something more than a tag-along who never…!"

"…complete lack of anything resembling sense or discretion…!"

"…total jerk without any regard for how to treat people, even I'm better at…!"

"Excuse me?"

The two of them stopped their arguing and looked ahead.

Floating before them on top of a giant green manta ray was a raven-haired woman in a white haori.

"Forgive my interruption," Unohana Retsu spoke with a smile, "but I believe I might be of some assistance to you two."

_To be continued…_


	21. Fox's Prey: Hunting the Wild Hollow

"What… the hell… is this?" Ishida breathed incredulously.

"_Stupid… ugly…dirty_…_!_"

Renji glanced up from his place on top of a broken pile of masonry and raised a hand in greeting. "Yoh. What took you guys so long?"

"Knowing the two of them, they were probably busy arguing about who should take the lead," Rukia spoke from her place on the sand beside him. Upon spying the loss of the Quincy's limb, though, her expression morphed into one of concern. "Ishida-san, your arm!"

"It's all right," he hurried to assure her as she rushed over to him, finally able to tear his sight away from the disturbing scene before them. "Unohana-sama healed the worst of it, I just need to… find Captain Kurotsuchi and…"

"_Dirty…stupid… ugly…stupid_…_!_"

Against his will, the bespectacled warrior found his gaze being drawn once again off to one side. Together with a dumbfounded Ichigo, he continued to stare.

Swallowing back his bile, Kurosaki managed to utter, "I'm sorry, could somebody please explain…?"

Captain Unohana trotted past him to join Byakuya and Zaraki where they stood eyeing one another warily. Nemu Kurotsuchi and Isane Kotetsu were standing between them, apparently to prevent any words from being exchanged that might be taken the wrong way. Yachiru Kusajishi was hopping excitedly next to a plainly distraught Hanatarō Yamada, who was having no luck preventing her from poking and prodding him in ways that could be considered friendly or just invasive. Mayuri Kurotsuchi was nowhere to be seen.

As for Chad Yasutora…

"_Ugly…dirty…dirty…stupid…!"_

Catching the looks the newcomers were directing to his left, Abarai cast a glance over to where the remaining member of their party was currently occupied.

"Oh, yeah," he responded carelessly. "About that, you see, this is what happened…"

* * *

_The dumbstruck expression on Yammy's face was replaced by irritation, and he swung a fist lazily into the wall beside him. The three of them turned their attention away from the sudden disappearance of gargantuan spirit power above their heads and back to the enemy at hand._

"_Damn!" the Espada grunted. "Here I've been doing nothing but napping and eating, building up some good reiatsu…" _

_His lips curled in a snarl, and before their eyes the remains of his shirt erupted from a sudden burst of muscle pressure._

"_AND YOU LITTLE SHITS ARE ALL I GET TO USE IT ON?"_

_Renji studied their opponent. He took notice of the '10' tattooed on the left shoulder. _

_And then he looked over towards the right._

_Hey, lookie there, just like Urahara said._

_With that, a plan came to mind. Because when you got right down to it, Renji was getting just a little bored with rushing into things and flailing around blind. Time for them to have the upper hand for a change. With that, he coughed quietly, the old signal to get Rukia's attention. _

_She made eye contact. Abarai shot a glance down at his right arm, then moved his hand and rested it lightly on his zanpakutō's sheathe. _

_His old accomplice looked appraisingly back at the fuming arrancar. _

_That unspoken connection that existed between the two of them kicked in, and she understood his plan. Rukia was always quick on the draw with this sort of venture. Time to get things started._

"_Either of you two fought one of these Espada before now?" the Sixth squad lieutenant asked casually._

_The brutish Hollow's eyes narrowed at his tone. _

"_Yes," came Rukia's reply. Between them, Chad did not respond. He was concentrating intently on the colossal figure standing before him, one he had challenged before and lost. Everybody knew that miserable story, and his other duel with a member of Aizen's death squad hadn't yielded anything worth mentioning, so he decided to keep quiet on the subject of battles fought._

"_Can't say I came out on top in my own tussle, but this guy's obviously the weakest of that crew," Abarai continued, withdrawing Zabimaru. "So that being said, let's be done with him quick and go help our friends, neh?"_

_Red eyebrows shot up on Yammy's forehead, giving him a slightly quizzical look. _

"_What's that?" he uttered from deep in his double-timpani-sized chest. "You think that I'm gonna lose…"_

_And the right arm flashed down to the soul cutter on his hip._

"…_TO MEASLY LITTLE FUCKS LIKE YOU?"_

"_PLEASE FORGIVE US, MIGHTY HOLLOW MASTER!"_

_The muscle-bound figure paused._

_Before him, the tiny shinigami woman had dropped to her knees, raising her hands in supplication. Tears glistened in her eyes, and she was trembling like a wind-blown leaf._

"_I BEG FOR YOUR MERCY, ON MY KNEES! IF YOU SEE FIT TO GRANT US OUR LIVES, MY WEALTHY BROTHER WILL REWARD YOU MOST HANDSOMELY! HE SHALL GRANT YOU AN ESTATE IN EACH OF THE QUARTERS OF RUKONGAI, FIVE HUNDRED SERVANTS TO WAIT UPON YOUR WISHES, TWENTY TUNS OF GOLD, FIFTY TUNS OF SILVER, A HERD OF A THOUSAND HORSES WITH MANES THAT SHINE LIKE COPPER, TWENTY BLACK BULLS WITH HORNS OF GILDED IVORY AND HOOVES SHOD IN PLATINUM, A RICH CLOAK STUDDED WITH LAPIZ LAZULI, AMBERGRIS, AND FINE NEPHRITE, A STATUE OF YOURSELF IN PUREST BRONZE, SILKS FROM THE ORIENT, SNOW FROM THE HIMALAYAS…!"_

_Both the human and the Hollow present gaped at this craven display in utter amazement. They were frozen like statues themselves._

_And Renji struck._

_Zabimaru extended, transforming into its shikai without his spoken command, as only one who has achieved bankai can do. It streaked across the way while their enemy stood agog at his victim's sudden whimpering fit._

_That enormous guillotine blade of a tip was aimed at a specific spot on Yammy's right arm. A place where a thin band of scar tissue stood out on the deep brown skin, running all around the watermelon-sized bicep and triceps. _

_This was the spot where Ichigo Kurosaki had cut the Espada's arm off in their first encounter._

_History repeated itself, as Zabimaru plowed into that exposed weak point, now braced across the giant's chest, and sliced straight through it._

_Yammy's arm came off, to swing back and forth from its firm grip on the handle of his undrawn zanpakutō before thudding to the ground. Its owner stared down at this turn of events in complete shock._

_As he did, Rukia flashed over the space between them. Her begging had ceased in an instant, and Sode no Shirayuki was now gleaming in her hand. Before the behemoth could respond to any of this, she was at his side. Her sword licked out, cutting the straps of her target which she then pulled free._

_The tiny valkyrie danced swiftly away, Yammy's spear-sized zanpakutō and sheathe now clutched to her chest._

"_HEY!" he bellowed and charged forth, forgetting about the pain of his mutilation in favor of the more immediate realization that he had been effectively emasculated by this little bitch. As he did, though, Sado Yasutora's armored fist crashed into the bony covering of his jaw._

_Yammy staggered a bit, then whipped around and back-handed him with his one remaining arm, sending him flying. The Mexican brawler rolled across the dunes several yards away, and the enraged gorilla continued his pursuit of the person responsible for denying him his full power._

* * *

"Holy… crap!" Ichigo whispered.

"I… guess it's true," Uryū blinked dazedly beside him. "The arrancar are just like shinigami in a way. If they lose their zanpakutō, they've pretty much lost the greatest chunk of their power. Preventing them from drawing is the simplest way to beat them." A tiny furrow of discomfort appeared between his eyes. "Now why didn't I think of that?"

"Wait," Renji grinned cheerfully. "There's more."

* * *

_It felt like he had broken his hand as soon as he connected with the ugly bastard's face. Apparently his strength had not increased to the point where he could take on even the weakest of the Espada yet. In addition, the brute had then proceeded to fling him away with as little effort as the first time they had faced off. The only noticeable improvement was that he had not been maimed by the attack like before._

_That didn't mean it hadn't hurt horribly._

_Not just the impact, although that in and of itself had felt like a cement truck and all of its family had collided with his warding Brazo Derecho del Gigante. Some bones might be broken there, along with the ones in his left hand covered by Brazo Izquierda del Diablo. But as previously stated, this was not the primary source of his distress._

_For the last fifteen years of his life, Sado 'Chad' Yasutora had lived with the unacknowledged but still secure impression that he could handle anything that people threw at him. His incredible size, strength, and durability had served him well in the face of virtually hundreds of unprovoked physical assaults from the most dangerous, unprincipled and malicious fighters that could be found among the youth of Mexico and Japan. In addition, once he applied himself, he had found that he was more than capable of achieving victory in the face of the exams and assignments that his teachers cared to present to him. He was not a weakling, and he wasn't stupid, no matter what people might think of him. He was a very strong and dependable person, in his opinion._

_But ever since his entry into Soul Society, Chad's image of himself had suffered some pretty serious blows. After wading without a scratch through the ranks of the regular shinigami, he had been confronted by Kyōraku Shunsui, First seat of the Eighth division. The laconic captain had proceeded to utterly humiliate Chad in combat, avoiding all his vaunted attacks and swiftly laying the young fighter low without any effort. He had nearly died that day, and it was only due to his opponent showing mercy that he did not._

_Things only got worse after this. Upon being released from prison, he had reached the top of Sokyōku Hill, where a mere glance from the silver-haired criminal captain at its peak had served to immobilize him, helpless as a child. A few months later, there had been the fight with Ulquiorra and Yammy, in which he was almost beaten to death and had to be saved by a girl he had tried to protect. Several days after that, he came close to being impaled by an attack from an arrancar that he hadn't even seen coming, rescued this time by Ichigo, who told him in not so many words that he could no longer be depended on in a fight. _

_Upon recognizing this fact, he had sought aid from Kisuke Urahara, who proceeded to enlist Renji Abarai's help in effortlessly pounding the living crap out of him every day for a few months. They had called it training, and it certainly helped, he had to admit. When they entered Hueco Mundo to rescue Orihime, the first fight Chad engaged in he won handily. The second actually involved him getting his ass handed to him once again, but a sudden revelation about the full nature of his power had allowed him to come out on top in the end. _

_And then of course, he had been thoroughly bitch-slapped by an Espada, and when the guy decided it wasn't much fun knocking around someone who couldn't put up a fight, he let his little toadie finish the job. So again, Sado Yasutora wound up kissing the pavement. Or sand, in that case._

_And what was the result of all this?_

_Simple. He was sick of being bullied._

_Chad had taken enough punishment from spiritual monsters of all different shapes, sizes, and temperaments now. And he was tired of it. So much so, he was willing to do pretty much anything to keep from being shown up as a loser again. He was not a bully, regardless of how he might appear. His grandfather had taught him to never raise his fists to intimidate or weaken others for his own gain. And Ichigo had helped him to find a way to still fight and remain true to that principle. His heart was good. Maybe he simply didn't want to be a burden in this mythic struggle between virtue and villainy. Or maybe, just maybe, what he really wanted was to once more have his friend Kurosaki consider Yasutora to be someone he could depend on to protect the people and things he held dear._

_Sado knew what was at stake here. Right now, his home of Karakura was under attack by bloodthirsty demons. A little closer, his friends Renji and Rukia were up against a deranged killer with no compunction about slaughtering them._

_And he was lying stretched out in the dirt._

_This had to end._

_So resolved, the determined pugilist rose to his feet._

_A little groggy, but he could at least stay upright. His arms were afire with pain, but Chad ignored this, and it seemed to work. With that, he began to move in the direction of the sounds of combat._

_Farther off, Renji had gone bankai. Yammy's iron skin had proven resistant to his shikai aside from that previously exploited vulnerable area. Hihiō Zabimaru now loomed large against the skyline, and swung down screaming at its enemy with tremendous speed and strength. Sado had vast experience in how powerful that thing really was. In spite of this, Yammy still connected with his fist. The snake skull cracked and flew back, shrieking its continued defiance. The Décima then kicked loose of the last remnants of the ice that clung to his legs and took off in pursuit of Rukia again. _

_The Espada was absurdly strong and durable, but in the end, his speed was nothing special. Even encumbered by the weight of his pilfered weapon, Rukia was able to stay out of his reach. The loss of his arm seemed to have affected his sense of balance as well, and when she dodged lightly away from another lunge, the roaring brute stumbled in the sand and went to one knee, bellowing in frustration._

_At this point, the lieutenant had completed his preparations, and fired off his Baboon-Bone Cannon._

_The blast lit the entire desert red, and without a doubt there was a remarkable amount of energy behind it. Certainly if Chad had been faced with such an attack, he would have been hard-pressed to survive it. But apparently in spite of being a dimwitted lout of a sentient being, Yammy still had some sense of how to fight. His own Cero managed to pour from his mouth moments before the blast would have hit, meeting the assault full in his face._

_An explosion of colliding powers sent sand and smoke up in a geyser, and the earth shook beneath them. Hihiō Zabimaru collapsed in pieces around its master, momentarily spent from the assault. Not five seconds later, though, the Hollow general came charging out of the wreckage. His face was blackened, and his eyebrows and sideburns were ablaze, but he appeared to be otherwise unharmed and even further enraged. _

"_YOU SCRAWNY LITTLE BITCH, I'M GONNA GET YOU! I'M GONNA GET YOU, AND WHEN I DO, MY SWORD ISN'T THE ONLY THING I'M GONNA STICK INSIDE YOU, YOU HEAR ME, YOU PUNY SLUT?"_

_Geez, did this guy have a limit on how angry he could get?_

_As for Chad, that last comment had served to stoke his own wrath._

_He wasn't dumb. He was certainly smarter than Yammy, because after all, who wasn't? So he understood what the half-mad Hollow was threatening the Kuchiki princess with. _

_His grandfather had also taught him that no one had the right to strike a lady, much less force themselves upon one._

_I will not let that happen. I will not be proven less than that monster. I swear it, Abuelo. I'm smarter than him, I'm better, I know it. And if it turns out that I'm not stronger, if for whatever reason my own strength isn't enough, then…_

_Marching towards battle, Sado almost tripped over something. _

_Looking down, he saw a severed arm, the massive fist clenched in rigor._

_I think I'll borrow somebody else's. _

_That's called fighting smart._

_Yammy Rialgo was firing off Balas from his remaining hand in pursuit of Rukia, frothing and cursing insanely, when someone spoke in a soft, determined voice behind him._

"_Hey. Ugly."_

_The inhuman beast swung about with a roar, raising his fist, right before its mate crashed into the side of his face. _

_The ogre's head snapped violently in the opposite direction of his spin, and the mandible mask remnant shattered. It almost felt like his neck was about to break. When he came back about, shock written large all over his face, it was to see a grim-eyed Sado raising Yammy's missing arm with both hands._

"_You looked."_

_And so saying, the human fighter swung down, bringing the solid hierro-tempered appendage smashing into his hated enemy's skull._

_The Espada's nose erupted, sending blood and bone pushing back into his head. For once he was simply too astonished to be angry. He was being beaten, by himself. His own punch. Dumbstruck by the implications, he could only watch in amazement as his weaker adversary hefted the horrific club once again. This time, he sent it plowing into the other side of Yammy's head, destroying the remaining pieces of both his jawbones._

_One massive knee hit the sand. His head was spinning, and he shook it violently to try and erase the confusion. Just how in the hell…?_

_A grunt from before him was his only warning, and the spirit of destruction looked up to see his fist coming straight down again. He tried to raise his arm, but found that he couldn't quite make it in time, and that jackhammer of bone and muscle bashed him right between the eyes._

"_Stupid," Sado whispered, sweating and trembling, his own muscles fired with a force that he had never previously experienced. "You're so…" And he connected again. "Stupid. And…" Another massive blow. "Ugly. You're…" Yet again. "Dirty. And stupid." Swing the arm. "Ugly." Crush his skull. "Stupid." Make him stop. "Dirty." Don't let him hurt anyone. "Ugly." Not Rukia. "Dirty." Not Ichigo. "Ugly." And especially not me. "Stupid."_

_Sado kept right on swinging, even after Yammy had fallen flat on his back and lay staring open-mouthed at the sky. Every curse now was punctuated with a strike to the thing's head. "Stupid… ugly…dirty…ugly…stupid…dirty…"_

_This went on for some time. For their parts, Rukia and Renji could only watch in morbid fascination._

* * *

"So that's that. Lucky for us the only part of that dope that _didn't_ grow bigger in the last month was his brain! We're talkin' dinosaur relativity, here."

Lieutenant Abarai leaned back and continued to watch thoughtfully as Sado pulped what was left of the _Decima's_ face into pudding within the bowl of its skull using only his bare hands, having discarded the meat hammer a while back. "No sense trying to stop it, really, might as well let him just work it all out of his system. I mean, this looks like it's been building for a while, we're talking _months_ of frustration here." He turned towards Ichigo once again. "What about you? You kill your guy this time?"

"No." The spiky-haired fighter seemed to have recovered his composure. "He got away, and he took Orihime with him. We have to get out of this world and go help the other shinigami against Aizen. Ulquiorra will be with his boss, I know it."

"That's what we're waiting on." Rukia trotted on over, with her brother Byakuya close behind. She had escorted Ishida to where Nemu waited, staying to observe the lieutenant of the Twelfth apply the limb-rejuvenation formula. Once his pain-filled curses at the procedure were spent, a brief conference with the captains had gotten everyone up to speed. "Right now those two have to come to an agreement of some kind to get us out of here."

"Who?" Kurosaki asked, glancing between the Kuchiki siblings.

Byakuya adjusted his glove officiously. "The Hollow woman and Kurotsuchi-taichou."

His jaw dropped.

"Huh?"

* * *

The former _Tercera _broke off from listening to her _fracción_ detailing their personal conflict and turned to regard the outlandish shinigami who accompanied them.

"You killed him?"

"Oh my, yes," Mayuri shot back over his shoulder while rummaging around in the cart. The memory of the deed made his smoky golden eyes twinkle with mischief.

Neliel regarded him intently. She drew in a deep breath, and let it out.

"You look like the type who would make his victims suffer. Was that the case here?"

"Assuredly. You can see the look on his face, if you are so inclined. I have it around here somewhere." He began to poke about for that specific specimen jar in preparation of the unveiling.

"Thank you, no. Knowing it happened is enough for me." Neliel tu Odelschvank picked absently at her white coat which she had stripped off of Nnoitra Jiruga's corpse. That made two down. There was no one left to really hate anymore.

So then, if hatred is out of the question, what is left to motivate me?

"I would like to be of assistance to your group, shinigami captain."

Mayuri looked up from his work. He seemed honestly surprised at the offer.

"My, my. Has no one explained the situation to you? We shinigami are not permitted to truck with Hollows, that's rather what this whole escapade seems to be about. If you would like to offer yourself and your cohorts up as specimens in my research, that I could happily accept." The two arrancar clowns sought protection behind Neliel's solid form, and he continued. "Anything else would only lead to trouble for me, I hate to say."

Apparently this would require some further explanation. "Whatever you ransacked from that little rat's lab, it won't be enough to form a _Garganta_."

Now Kurotsuchi paused. Without looking back, he simply said, "Are you casting aspersions on my ability to understand new technology? That wouldn't be something I could forgive so readily."

Prickly one. If he had been a Hollow, his theme would have been 'hedgehog'.

"The _Octava_ was a vainglorious pest. I doubt the intervening years did much to change that. Anything you have there might have been of interest to him, but in terms of truly productive work, he actually made only one, maybe two contributions to Aizen's efforts." She moved to stand by his side, and noted how Mayuri quickly pulled the tarp down over his purloined treasures before she could see what might lie within. Quite a suspicious character, in more ways than one. "I would be of more use to you than anything you have there."

"I must admit I'm curious." Those disturbing features, so similar to a Hollow's, revolved to regard her closely. "How would someone such as yourself think to be of service in this situation? You don't strike me as the scientific type."

The skull-capped head cocked to one side. "No, I'm not a scientist. I'm a Hollow. Who better to fashion a _Garganta?"_

"Ridiculous." And the white-scaled hand waved in dismissal. "I already attempted to force several of your brethren to perform such a feat. The results were unsuccessful. The system Aizen used to close off our efforts seems to extend to the Hollows as well. In short, Hueco Mundo is entirely encapsulated for the present time. No one can enter or leave until I determine how to correct that procedure."

Actions spoke louder than words. With that, Neliel gestured, and in the space between them, a small dimensional tear big enough for one person to stick their head through opened up.

Kurotsuchi slowly came about and studied this endeavor.

"The system you speak of," she explained quietly, "is one that was developed in my time. And it has a loophole. Specifically, the _Espada_ themselves are capable of circumventing it, by passing through a secondary dimension Aizen created for this purpose and then proceeding to their original destination. A two-step trip, instead of one. That's how the top three made their way into the human world when Aizen called them, and it's how Schiffer escaped a while back. Regardless of my misfortune, my status was apparently never officially revoked. Whether by oversight or intention, I'm still the fastest option for getting out of this mess that you have."

He was looking at her now in a way that could only be described as dissecting her with his eyes. Maybe this wasn't a smart move, Neliel thought.

Then the elite shinigami stuck his hand into the open portal, and withdrew it. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and when nothing seemed to register as off, murmured in a far-off tone, "Of course, I must insist on certain conditions being met before I am willing to allow any of my colleagues to undertake such a venture." His clearly mad gaze sought her out. "To ensure your cooperation is genuine, of course. I won't have it be said that I was cozened by a pretty face, now."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't." And she gave him a slight, sad smile.

In response, Mayuri grinned wickedly.

"I'm finding you more interesting, my dear. Let's make a date for experimentation when all this is over."

So now he's interested in me. Wonderful.

Why do I always attract the crazies?

Speaking of which, I wonder how Gin's doing?

* * *

It was only a slight sound that awoke him, but a soldier's instincts carried over even at home. In these uncertain times, it didn't pay to become complacent.

So resolved, he stole swiftly out of bed, making sure not to wake his wife. A knife under his futon was retrieved just in case. Outside, the rest of the town was quiet. Not even so much as a dog barking in the street. Officers of the law patrolled the lanes even at this time of night, ensuring the peace of the Tokugawa era. He himself was a part of that good fortune.

And when someone was fortunate, it tended to attract envy. Hence the caution.

The warrior crept down the halls of his home. The sound had come from his son's room, that much he was certain of. The infant boy had been put to bed hours ago, but still, he might have come awake again, although usually that involved him crying and making a fuss. Normally he would have told his spouse to go check on their child.

But something felt off.

Sliding open the door to the nursery, he could see nothing unusual. Moonlight fell through the slats of the window. Scanning the shadows, he could detect nothing out of the ordinary.

Taking a step forward, his foot came down in a puddle.

Startled, he glanced down. Water? Bending down to touch it, he found something sticky and warm. When he brought his fingers up into the moonlight, the smell was unmistakable.

Blood.

Horror touched him, and the anxious father dashed to his son's crib.

The awful mess within it caused him to scream like a mad thing.

Turning, he caught a glimpse of movement, and his deranged brain could have sworn there was a flash of red at the door. He tore out into the hall, whipping his head back and forth in search of his quarry, knife at the ready and breath gasping in and out of his lungs.

Nothing.

Looking up then, he found his wife standing at the open door to their bedroom, confusion and fear written large on her face.

She opened her mouth to speak, and blood gushed out.

Before his eyes, he saw her lifted into the air, choking on gore that erupted from her suddenly torn throat. With a cry he ran to her, striving to grasp hold and bring his beloved back to earth.

A blow knocked him down the hall. Tearing through the flimsy wooden screens, his head collided with a support column, and for a moment he lay dazed. Then sharp pain lanced through one of his hands, followed by the other. The same sensation blossomed in each leg. Blinking away the tears, he looked over to see that he had been pinned to the wooden floor.

By arrows.

His own arrows.

From this position, he was forced to watch as the woman he loved was dragged into the room and torn to shreds right in front of him.

He could smell the stink of his own loosened bowels, but it did not register. Unfortunately, his brain did recognize the sensation when sharp fangs tore into his belly. The soldier of the Shogunate died in misery and excruciating torment, but not for a good long while.

A report for this incident pertaining to that particular culprit was filed in a special government storage facility in Kyoto. It shed no greater light on their quarry than all the others.

A similar report was handed over to the Second division in Soul Society, and they knew exactly what they were dealing with.

And so, the Gotei 13 took measures to end the existence of the Hollow code-named Rip Tease.

* * *

"Excuse me," Daichi spoke softly to the Onmitsukidō member seated near him, "Can I ask you a question?"

The black-clad ninja peered out of his facemask with eyes like a shark. He gave no answer in return. Seated in a small blind on the edge of the glade, both men had been told by their respective heads to remain here unless a call for back-up was made. A joint collaboration between the Eleventh, Fourth, and Second squads, it had taken nearly a year of preparation for this operation to come about, culminating in one carefully orchestrated nighttime attack. As such, there could be no conceivable room for mistakes. The military workings of Soul Society must be respected.

But for all that, the member of the Sixth unit of Squad Four could not keep himself from chatting with his newly assigned partner. He might just be a healer, the lowest in terms of authority of the shinigami world, but Daichi appreciated the value of conversation. Even if this fellow clearly didn't.

"Why do they call this thing 'Rip Tease'?"

Again, an answer was not immediately forthcoming, and Daichi settled back into his spot on the covered branch of a tree.

"Because…"

The healer gave a start when the silence was broken by someone other than him.

"…it likes to torture the prey."

This was the most his silent partner had spoken that night. Perhaps it was time to finally perform introductions.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I'm Daichi…"

"I know."

A swift cut-off, followed by an awkward pause.

"So… what's your name?"

Silence.

Then, "Fon."

Apparently nothing more would be forthcoming by way of a first name. Still, you take what you can get.

"Nice to meet you, Fon. Have you been a Stealth Forces member long?"

"This is my first mission."

That could have explained his willingness to talk. He was a newbie. Maybe the stress of this venture was telling on him in the same way it was me. Not that you could tell by looking at him. The man hardly seemed to breathe, so quiet and unmoving was he.

"Are you nervous to be given such a big assignment your first time out?"

"No. Eager."

Daichi shifted slightly to get more comfortable, but froze when Fon cast him what could have been a warning glare. Message received. Don't get comfortable. The sight of those gimlet eyes left him feeling like anywhere might be safer than right here. To dispel that unwarranted feeling, he tried talking again.

"My wife is upset I got assigned to this case. She knows how many of us have fallen to this thing. It made for a lot of arguing these past few weeks. How did your family take it?"

Peering out of their enclosure at the dark mountain forest, Fon replied back in a murmur. "They knew it was my duty."

"Oh. Duty. Yes, I understand, as a shinigami you have to divorce yourself from your feelings and focus on…"

"I am not divorced from my feelings."

At this, the man in black turned and regarded his shorter and distinctly weaker colleague, and in his previously unreadable eyes there was now something very intense.

"This is not my duty as a shinigami, it is my duty as a Fon. This filthy creature killed my great-grandmother and my elder brother. We must eradicate it or the shame on our house will not be absolved. That is why I am here."

Daichi stared, surprised.

Off in the distance, the cry of a Hollow was heard.

"_Outer and middle ring, this is the inner ring."_ Daichi flinched as the Tenteikura spell made it sound as if one of their officers was speaking right in front of them. _"The target has been sighted in the 16th cordon. The campaign will commence on this spot."_

And just like that, the contact was broken.

Both men sat quietly.

"It's here," the medic spoke, surprise in his tone. "It's really here. How did they know where to find it?"

"A month ago we determined this to be its primary territory." Fon had removed his soul cutter along with a collection of knives and was proceeding to sharpen them. "It has a wide hunting range, but even if it goes to Hueco Mundo, it always comes back to the forest region within this prefecture."

His throat had gone dry, and Daichi coughed, feeling more anxious than he could ever remember. "Why?"

"Unknown. Maybe it's searching for someone. Or something. It doesn't seem to have a nesting ground that we can pinpoint. That's why the scope of this operation is so wide."

Daichi shivered, and his thoughts went back to his home in Soul Society, where his wife and newborn son were waiting for him. The image of them sitting together, not knowing whether or not he would return alive, caused cold sadness to settle through his bones. Now more than ever in his life he wished he could see them once again, he wished he could go home.

"I hope I'll be able to help."

The look Fon turned on him was filled with scorn. "And how do you plan to do that, since you have neglected to bring your zanpakutō?"

Daichi flushed. "Well, actually, to tell you the truth…"

"_We have lost sight of the target! All units, prepare to be engaged at a moment's notice!"_

… Oh, dear.

Life-giver and life-taker stayed where they were. Daichi noticed that his knees were shaking, and hugged them together. Shivers went up his spine. Fon returned his weapons to their hiding places before going back to sitting perfectly still.

"_8th unit reporting in, we have found the target and are now engaging! Report to the fifth cordon to…"_

"_This is the 2nd unit, the target is now in the eleventh cordon, requesting back-up…"_

"_Ninth, it's in the ninth cordon, all units converge on this spot at once…!"_

Both men exchanged looks of similar apprehension.

"What's happening?" Daichi whispered.

"What always happens," Fon murmured back. "It's tricking us."

"_T-this is the…3rd unit! We've found the remains of… I think it's the 4th unit, I can't tell…they're dead, all of them…how did it get them all…?"_

"We're… losing."

Astonished, the shinigami doctor looked down at his trembling hands. How? How could the splendid tacticians of the Soul Society be outwitted by a mere Hollow? They were trained, disciplined, experienced warriors. It made no sense. What could one fallen soul do against all that?

It was then that he realized he was sitting in the tree alone.

"F…Fon?"

No one there. Darting his gaze about, Daichi could see no sign of his accomplice anywhere in the vicinity.

Where is he? Did it get him? Am I going to die next? I don't want to, I don't want to be here, I want to go home and be with my family, why did I have to be a shinigami anyway?

But I am. And so is he. He's one of us. So I suppose… I had better go help him.

Without giving any thought to their orders about staying put, the death god moved out from behind the cover of his hiding spot and went in pursuit of his accomplice.

* * *

Fon squatted on a game trail. The signs of animals using this route were old and worn. Apparently the beasts living in this region had come to recognize that they were straying into a predator's vicinity, and had moved on to safer pastures. It was instinct that told them to do so. The same thing screaming at him that he was in danger now.

But shinigami are not ruled by instincts. So with iron control, the scion of his house remained where he was.

"_All units, regroup beyond the second line! Perimeter, report any activity, whether confirmed or not! The enemy is somehow confounding our perceptions and…!"_

Thank you very much for that notice. Idiots. He couldn't believe that all their preparations had culminated in something like this. They had almost let the bastard go.

Almost.

Fortunately, he was here.

He let such thoughts fade away, and focused everything on his senses. Not just the soul perceptions. That was where he was certain everyone else had made their mistake. Instead he worked through sound, sight, touch and smell. Sifting the textures of the mortal world through his ghostly perceptions. He could tell, through them, what many would have missed. It was coming.

A presence. Drawing closer, announcing itself for him, hidden as he was in the shadows of the forest. Fon drew his weapon. It was approaching from the east, and he moved swiftly to intercept it. Patience. Breathe in. Still yourself.

The sound of movement.

Let it come.

The feel of the trees shifting.

Almost there.

The smell of…

Oh, come on.

Daichi materialized down the way, looking anxiously all about. His needy gaze was filled with panic, and sweat glistened on his skin. Passing through the trees, he searched one way, then the other, apparently quite lost.

Fon exhaled slowly, and stepped out of hiding.

The medic spotted him, and came running over, relief exuding off of him in waves. "Hey there! Why did you leave your post, weren't we supposed to stay in our positions?"

The assassin smiled behind his mask, and said calmly, "I had to take a leak."

His associate paused. "What?"

"You heard me."

Right then one of Fon's hands whipped out and sent a knife burrowing into Daichi's chest.

He screamed.

And exploded in blue fire.

Fon watched this display. At the conflagration's core, there appeared a shadow. The blaze died down, revealing something that was neither beast, shinigami nor human.

Hollow.

It stalked toward him, a perverse assemblage of twisted parts. Sprouting directly beneath the head was a pair of small black arms whose clutching six-fingered talons reached over and yanked the knife out of its shoulder. A silver pelt covered the rest of the body, which had four legs in a configuration that was almost reptilian. Its tail was segmented and ended in a black stinger that practically announced itself to be venomous. The bone mask bore a certain resemblance to a fox, and from within those empty sockets there gleamed red slits of eyes so thin they might not have been there at all. But looking into them, Fon was certain it could see very well.

"You obviously like to hide your true nature," the eager avenger spoke. "I won't ask what became of my colleague, clearly you encountered him after I left. Your magic is clever, _kitsune_. It even made you smell like him. But you don't seem to recognize that you carry another scent on you. The scent of my family's blood. That is why only I could find you. There is just one thing that can wash that taint away: your own!"

The creature didn't respond, only began to prowl around him. Fon did the same, so that they were circling each other.

"Don't worry," he whispered, a savage grin spreading over his face. "I won't call for any of the others. This is my kill. If Daichi had bothered to respect that, he might have remained alive. I, Dao Fon, will make an offering at his grave, after I'm done with…!"

His brother's killer made no noise when it attacked, but he was ready for it.

Kidō flared, a zanpakutō keened, and the fight began.

* * *

Daichi was lying on his side, a terrible cold seeping into his body.

While searching for Fon, he had been approached by a wounded man whose bearing marked him as one of the Eleventh. Rushing over to aid his fellow, the devoted doctor had been shocked when something sliced through his jugular, and he collapsed spurting blood all over the forest floor. The medical training he had spent years learning seemed to desert him at this point, and he could do nothing but press his fingers to the wound in a vain attempt to halt the escape of his life. How could this have happened?

Blue flame burned close by, and then Rip Tease was crouching beside him, its feral eyes hungrily feeding on his obvious confusion and fear.

As he struggled to comprehend this situation, one idea alone seemed to take precedence in his mind. When Daichi saw the Hollow reach out with its sharp claws to finish him, he found himself speaking that thought aloud.

"I want to go home."

The black hands paused.

They watched one another for a while, there in that tranquil forest turned deadly perilous.

After a time, Rip Tease remembered how to speak, something it had not bothered to do in what seemed like a very long time.

"Me too."

Then he bent down and licked some of the blood off Daichi's face. By the time he stood up, he had already taken on the appearance of his latest victim. There was no need to deal the final blow with this one, he would be dead soon enough. All that mattered was his escape.

With that, the doppelganger had disappeared into the trees.

Daichi couldn't bother to be surprised by this. He was still thinking about his loved ones off in the land of the dead, anxiously looking forward to his return. A terrible feeling settled over him as he realized that this would never happen. His life had come to an end.

No.

Not yet.

I'm not dead yet. I haven't failed them. There's no need for them to give up hope. Not quite.

Healing energy then sparkled around his palm. More blood gushed out, and he could feel his life-force fading with it. He recognized that were he actually attempting this on anybody else, it would have been obvious to those in his profession that it was a wasted effort. Give up, inform the family, and let friends and drink console you in your grief. However, in this case, the family was his own. And he couldn't bear the shame of thinking how they would react when learning the manner of his death, getting his throat slit and bleeding out like a pig in the woods.

Everyone always laughs at us men of the Fourth. Unohana-taichou says we mustn't take it personally. And I didn't. Because I knew the things they said about us weren't true. Weak. Cowards. Useless. I've heard it all. They even say that about us when we die right beside them out in the field.

Well, not me. My son will not grow up thinking that his father died a coward. I'm not afraid of anything anymore, except that.

And I'm going to prove it.

The wound had closed by this point. But the damage had been done. There was hardly a flicker of spirit power left inside him. There was no way to undo the loss. That alone would be enough to kill him now. But something more was driving Daichi, staving off the end for as long as possible. Until then, he had other things to worry about. And so, without bothering to acknowledge that he was already dead, the death god stood and tottered off into the woods.

* * *

Less than a minute after the fight began, Dao Fon lay as dead as his brother.

Soldiers, Rip Tease thought to himself disdainfully. They're all the same, thinking everybody's weaker than they are. Even shinigami. Haven't I proved to these idiots by now that I'm not to be taken lightly? To deal with me, they'd better send one of their captains if they want to stand a chance. Maybe I'll beat him too.

Although who knows?

Maybe it'll be a girl.

The thought made him chuckle.

He then swallowed the blood off his claws and departed, leaving the horribly mangled body behind.

* * *

Daichi was close enough to feel when the battle began, and also when it ended a short while later. His slow, stumbling steps turned in that direction. In what felt like hours to his fogged brain but was actually no more than a few minutes, he came upon the site of the Fon family's duel for honor.

The corpse's skin was cherry-red under the pall of blood, and its lips were pulled back from its teeth in an expression of agony. Poison, the healer recognized. He recalled the information they had collected, and that certainly seemed to fit with the reconnaissance team's findings up to this point. There was no doubt that Rip Tease had been here.

So much for avenging your brother's death. Guess this means I'll have to do some avenging myself.

Looking down, he saw Fon's zanpakutō still held loosely in his grip.

Daichi didn't bother to think that there was nothing special to this blade now, no guardian spirit of any sort since its master was dead. All he saw was a weapon, and the recognition that he himself was without one.

With that, the vengeance seeker picked up the inanimate object, spying a trail of blood leading out of that scene as he did. Heart slowing, life fleeting, he followed it.

* * *

On his way out of the trap, Rip Tease found himself confronted by a pack of shinigami. Stumbling slightly, making an effort to appear pained and pitiable, he approached them.

"Hey!" A girl noticed him first. Wearing that green band across her chest that signified something he did not know, she gamboled through their group. "What happened? Are you all right?"

Before she could come a few steps, though, one of the others garbed and masked as he now was grabbed her by the arm.

"Who's there?" the man demanded in a tone that dripped caution.

"Fon," the Hollow coughed, secretly delighting in how that last fool had chosen to proclaim himself. "Dao Fon."

"It's Fon!" someone else cried.

"Your shoulder!" the girl gasped as more of their party turned to look. "Did it get you?"

"It came out of nowhere." The actor slumped against a tree, giving an impression of intense weariness. He let a deep and abiding regret sink into his words. "The other man. Daichi. It killed him. Cut me. Then it ran." He noticed how the female covered her mouth in horror at the mention of the name.

"Which way?" One of the other masked fighters, apparently the leader here, spoke out to him.

"East." An auspicious direction. Everybody knew that. Maybe if any of them survived the next few seconds, they might get the joke. Not that he intended to leave one of them alive if he could. Staggering forward, Rip Tease drew closer to his prey.

"Inform the other units!" the leader spoke quietly to his cohorts. "Try and coordinate the sightings to get an accurate reading of its location." Over half of the assembled hunting party then sped away or began performing those ridiculous little chants. Their quarry watched these efforts with mingled amusement and disappointment at losing the chance to kill more of them.

"Daichi…" The girl, a slight, snub-nosed little thing, looked to be on the verge of tears. "Oh, no. I… I knew him. I know his wife and his little baby, I can't…"

She swayed slightly in disbelief, then shook her head, apparently remembering their predicament. Dislodging the hand of her compatriot, she headed over to Rip Tease, who exulted at the sight of his target drawing closer. Removing her green chest strap, she prattled on once more. "Please forgive me, I shouldn't be getting emotional out in the field. Heaven knows we of the Fourth have a bad enough reputation as it stands. Here, let's get you taken care of."

No, he exulted as she approached him, all sweetness and innocence. Let's get _you_ taken care of.

"Do you feel light-headed from any poison? Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Kiyone…" The shinigami looked up from her bag, and her mouth fell open, dark eyes growing wide.

"Yamada-san!" she blurted out.

What?

Rip Tease turned around, just as Daichi Yamada swung his sword and decapitated him.

The disguised body burst into blue flames. An instant later, the torso crumpled, followed immediately after by a spent Daichi. The impact didn't hurt, but before anyone could make a move…

A hideous scream erupted in the night.

Rip Tease's head hit the ground while the rest of it burned away to ash. Coming to a rest, the front of the mask suddenly burst, and a column of turquoise fire shot out, causing all nearby to turn their faces, shielding their eyes. The ghastly shrieking continued without pause.

Daichi did not look away. It was only a few feet from him, so he could see clearly. He alone perceived that inside that burning mask, stretched in agony and terror, was the face of a silver-haired child.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered to it softly, pityingly. "You're going home now. You'll be safe. There's nothing more to fear."

The wailing died out, the mask and its wearer dissolving from this world.

Daichi closed his eyes then.

My wife. Forgive my selfishness. I have to go now. Take care of our child. Tell him that his father did not die in vain.

My boy. Live strong. Find someone to love and have children of your own. Your father will always be proud of you.

I lived as a shinigami, and so I died.

And so, with regret but no fear, Daichi's heart stilled forever.

* * *

Well away from the others, Ichigo was sitting propped against a boulder, carefully rewrapping the cloth covering around Zangetsu, when Rukia came over and sat down beside him.

"How are you taking it?" she asked.

There was no need to ask what that referred to. The question could have covered a broad range of topics at this time, but he had a feeling he knew what she meant. And right now, he didn't really feel like being snippy with her about it. If he couldn't sum up his current condition, that would just be one more thing to worry over. And so the rebellious teen continued with his ministrations, before stating quietly, "I'm dealing with it."

"Ishida told me everything. I know what happened up there."

"That makes one of us." Some of the bindings looked a little crooked to him, and so he unwound them and started over. No sense in doing a half-assed job, right?

_**If you can't do it right, you shouldn't do it at all, you WEAKLING!**_

Ichigo flinched at the thought, then with slow deliberation he shoved the monster down before proceeding with his work. Hopefully Rukia hadn't noticed.

"Do you remember anything, Ichigo?"

Why is she wanting to talk about this now? Jeez, for once, Rukia, can't you just leave things alone? I'm so damn tired.

He didn't say that, though. Instead, Kurosaki replied, "Ulquiorra went bankai on me and put a hole through my chest you could have crawled through without any difficulty. The next think I knew, the hole was gone and so was he."

They remained in silence for a few moments. Her amethyst eyes moved to the idyllic painting that served as a horizon within this coliseum, studying that mirage, perhaps in search of any flaw in its design that would reveal it to be fake. For his part, the substitute shinigami continued what he had been doing before.

_Ichigo._

For a moment he was set to smash the Hollow once more, before recognizing that voice. It served to give him the first feeling of peace and relief he had experienced in quite a while.

Hey, old man. I'm glad to hear it's you.

_I thought you might benefit from some time alone. Would you like to come inside?_

He hesitated, considering what this might mean.

_He isn't here now. I could stay quiet and you could think by yourself. Only a few seconds would pass outside. Would you like that?_

Ichigo understood what Zangetsu was offering; an opportunity to collect his thoughts, without anyone to trouble him, before heading out into what would no doubt be the greatest battle of his life. And that idea certainly had its appeal. He was feeling rather shaken by everything that had just occurred, more so than he was comfortable letting on even to himself. Ignoring it could prove more damaging and potentially fatal if that experience should arise again.

Yeah. Makes sense.

Thanks for the offer, old man. But I think I really need to focus on what's happening now.

_I understand._

You wanna stick around? Contribute to my end of the conversation?

_No. That would only distract you. And you need to keep your wits sharp around her._

That's a fact.

…

Hey, wait a minute. Are you implying I'm dull compared to Rukia?

_Yes._

WHAT? Are you kidding me? She couldn't even figure out a flippin' juice-box! She's totally naïve, that old grocery-store guy would have conned her into buying his rotten vegetables if I hadn't been there, she brought a _window_ to decorate a _closet_, she…!

"Are you two done talking?"

Ichigo made an inadvertent squeak, and he stared at the calm composed figure seated at his side.

"How did you…?"

"I have a zanpakutō too, remember? She wouldn't stoop to invading on whatever you were speaking about, but apparently when my name came into the conversation, she couldn't help sneaking a peak. According to her, the serious part of your discussion is over. I thought maybe we could return to ours."

The teen scowled irritably and blew the hair up off his forehead. "Can't I get a little privacy even in my own mind?"

"Your mind is rather crowded," she pointed out, and turned to regard him. The look on her face was not quite condemning, not quite compassionate. Good facial control. Maybe her acting worked on so many people for a reason…

"Ichigo?"

He started. "Yes?"

"Do you know what happened to you on the roof of Las Noches?"

The boy stared at her, trying to find an answer to that question, but nothing seemed to be coming. He didn't feel like pointing out the obvious, so then all that left him with was…

Nothing.

"No," he whispered. "I don't."

"You became a Hollow."

A shiver went up his spine, and immediately he felt the need to refute that statement. "No, no, I didn't! What must have happened was…"

"You were put to death," Rukia continued, cold relentless inflection in every word. "The _Espada_ dealt you a mortal blow, and in the moment before the end you experienced what every living being does. Sorrow, anger, desperation, longing, and terror. You felt these emotions so strongly that they crowded out all the remaining vestiges of humanity from your heart. Between one heartbeat and the one that would have been your last, you gave up on being human, Ichigo."

Suddenly he didn't want to talk about this anymore. What was she saying? No, that couldn't be right, it… it just _couldn't! _

But apparently there was no stopping her. Like it had to be said. "Just like every one of them you've ever faced. You now know exactly what they felt like at the moment they went from plus to Hollow."

"No, I _don't! _I told you, I don't remember!" He looked angrily away from her then, feeling as though he might start weeping like a little kid. Why was she doing this? They had to go fight Aizen, didn't they? Why was she telling him this now, it couldn't possibly help. Did she not understand that? Did she not understand _me?_

"I think it's good that this happened, Ichigo."

Okay. Clearly she didn't.

He turned a befuddled, angry look on her. Rukia was sitting on the sand, hands folded in her lap, face set and stoic. But her eyes held that sad, perceptive look that came over her whenever she was speaking to him on something personal. It made him pay close attention to what she said next, in spite of how irritated he still felt towards her at that moment.

"Up until now, I don't think you've really bothered to stop and think about what separates a shinigami from the rest of earth's spirits."

"I have a feeling I'm about to find out," he spit acidly, regretting it shortly after but being entirely too pissed to take it back.

"It's something my zanpakutō and I have discussed. The quality that we all share, from captains on down, is forgiveness."

"Huh?" Now he knew she was losing it. "Are you serious? You think your brother feels forgiveness when he kills folks? You think _Zaraki_ feels _forgiveness_?"

"I do." She said it so assuredly, too. "Even Zaraki. You might even say, especially him. When he slays his opponent, do you think that he hates them afterwards?"

"What? I mean… no, I don't." Hard to say if he really hated them before, but still…

"Neither do I. It's hard not to hate your enemies, Ichigo. I certainly can't do it. A lot of the shinigami I know are like that. I think maybe that's where Zaraki has us beat. I don't think he really considers the ones he fights as his enemies. He kills Hollows, and he bears their souls no grudge. That's harder than one might think. You could say that Kenpachi Zaraki is the most basic example of a shinigami that exists. No kidō spells, no need for robes or any of that. Nothing else thrown in. I doubt he's ever performed a konsō for a regular soul in his life, but that doesn't alter the fact that he appreciates what we do differently than anyone else. He fights, his opponent is purified, and he moves on to the next. That's all there is to him. I think he does it because he understands some of what they must be feeling. There are things we don't know about Zaraki that allow him to disregard the normal hate and fear that we feel for the Hollows. And the average shinigami nowadays does hate them. Very much. Because they are the primary threat to our lives, we want to view them as simple, basic monsters that must be beaten. The same way you did before your fight with Inoue's brother showed you that wasn't the case. So that our job becomes that much easier."

Listening to her wasn't helping him understand her point. Was she accusing him of lacking something that Zaraki didn't? Feeling more and more like this was a pointless exercise, Kurosaki settled his chin on his upraised knees and wished she would be done talking, or at least change the subject.

"But now, you have experienced to the utmost what our foes felt at the moment their souls collapsed. You've been there, right along with them. And I think, since you have, you are better equipped to face Sōsuke Aizen and his men. Because you understand now why they were able to take these lost ghosts and turn them into slaves, and why it was so basically wrong a thing for a shinigami to do."

"Rukia," he grimaced, feeling a headache coming on. "What the hell are you talking about?"

In response, she took a deep breath and said, "You've faced the worst that can happen to you personally. You may have become a Hollow, Ichigo, and by doing so come to realize that it is nothing a sane person would willingly choose. But I'll never, _ever_ believe that you'd permit yourself to become what those three are now."

"And what is that?" This had better be good.

"Unforgivable."

Staring straight ahead, Ichigo tried not to think about this answer. Unfortunately, that proved as productive as telling himself to not think about elephants. See? There you go. Elephants.

And along those same lines, just what the hell is she trying to tell me, huh? That I need to be forgiven for something? That I shouldn't forgive them? Granted, there's a hell of a lot that those guys need to answer for in my book, all of them, Ulquiorra, Aizen, everybody. But now that I actually think about it, something tells me they've done a lot more crap than I'm aware of, even if raising a Hollow army and using it to try and wipe out my town and my family is right at the top of the list. And they did it all while they were still respected and praised captains of Soul Society!

So really, what exactly has changed about them? They were bastards then, and they're bastards now. Don't expect me to believe none of you picked up on it. Hell, I took one look at Gin Ichimaru, and I knew there was a guy who should be behind bars where he couldn't hurt anybody! If they needed to have vengeance or justice or whatever done to them, it should have been centuries ago, or however long they've been around. It should never have been allowed to come this far! They ought to have been cut off long before I was ever born. How come nobody did that? Why did you all ignore what a bunch of psychos they were and let them lead you into battle against those Hollows you claim to forgive so much? Hell, if anybody needs to be forgiven, it's all of Soul Society for letting this mess grow to the point where it got dumped in my lap!

Ichigo's nails were digging into his arms, and he recognized that he was getting very worked up about this. He knew she was trying to help him here, she wasn't looking to confuse him or belittle his pain. But dammit, after what he had been through today, didn't he deserve some consideration? Moments before he had been willing to have somebody just point him in the direction of the three traitors and let him fly. Now he was being forced to think about what separated them from him, and what it might mean, and whose fault it was, and whether or not they deserved to be forgiven, or…

His jaw was clenched, and absurdly there seemed to be tears gathering inside his eyes. He didn't want to think about any of this! It was so damn frustrating!

What did _she _know, anyway, come to think of it? Little Miss Rukia Know-it-all Shinigami, sitting there and going on as if I asked you to teach me something about souls and Hollows! Things have changed! I'm not an ignorant punk anymore, I don't need you to whip out your stupid sketchbook and paint me a picture! When are you going to figure out that you don't _know everything?_ Who are you to tell me about giving up, anyway, huh? You sat around in a jail cell waiting to be murdered by a bunch of stuck-up pricks without even trying to fight for your life! Don't tell me about losing heart, don't tell me about not being human, or I'll _**kill her!**_

Ichigo froze.

_**You heard me, king, do it! Kill the little bitch, don't let her talk to you that way! Put me through her throat, see how smart she sounds choking on steel! **_

No. You shut up. You hear me?

_**Don't wanna kill her? Fine! Hit her! Break her nose, crack her jaw, just make her SHUT UP! Look at her sitting there, all proper and clean. Mess her up, why don't you? I can't stand listening to her going off like she knows anything about you and me, what we are, what we HAD, what we would STILL HAVE if that pasty-faced clown hadn't sucker-punched me at the wrong moment!**_

Be quiet! I don't want to think about that!

_**But you remember, don't you? After all, it WAS you! You finally saw how things are going to end between us, with there being no more DIFFERENCE BETWEEN US! We were so alive, so complete. We didn't need a reason or a quest, we had everything we needed right there in the palm of our hand, it should have gone on FOREVER! **_

Dammit, get down! Back in your cage, you bastard, where you belong!

_**There's no more cage, you dumb shit! There's no more separation! I'm your future, you can't get rid of me! There's no more hope for you! It's over!**_

No. No, I won't let it. I'll die before I let you take me down.

_**You can't die, king. I won't LET YOU! Haven't you seen that by now? Where's that hole in your chest, hmmm? Oh, wait, I mean MY chest!**_

He was crying now. There was a pain in his sternum, and he was scared that if he looked down, he would see the Hollow hole there, bleeding out, letting him know that he had lost once again, that it had all been for nothing. He was weak. He was beaten. His family was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. I'm sorry. Dad, Karin, Yuzu, please forgive me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I…!

Hunched up with his head in his hands, Ichigo felt it when Rukia's arms came around him.

It was instinct that compelled him to grab hold and pull her close. He knew that here was a warm, comforting presence, and he wanted to hold onto that as long as it took for all the bad things that had been done to him today to just go away. It was a parent, a sister, a friend. Whatever you want to call it, it was what he needed right now.

Kurosaki clutched the tiny girl in his embrace, tears running down his cheeks as he whimpered and mewled, drawing in shuddering breaths only to have them come out as sobs.

I wish I was home. I want to go home!

_**You are such a little baby.**_

"Ichigo."

She said my name.

"Ichigo… I have known you for less than a turn of the seasons. In the last one hundred and fifty years I have met great men, powerful men, admirable men. People who left me awed and appreciative of their qualities, who made me glad to have just been recognized by them, if only for a moment. I have felt privileged to be in their company, and have fought to defend them when need be."

Her hands were stroking through his hair and over his back, and somewhere in his soul, the Hollow growled at this intimacy.

"And now, I have met you. And I have come to know you."

_**Not as well as I have, Ichigo. You realize that, don't you?**_

The ache in his chest had transferred to his stomach, where it seemed to settle.

"We both almost died today, Ichigo. That gives a person a great deal to think about. I thought about our hearts. What they are, what they let us believe in. And watching you learn what you could do these last few months… made me see what we all do in a different way. Did you know that we behave differently for everybody around us? When I was sitting in that cell in Soul Society, after I learned you were alive, I thought about myself when I was with you. And after you saved me, I thought about it some more."

Her robe was wet with his tears, but she didn't seem to mind. That was Rukia for you. She knew not to sweat the little things. Like private property, or lying your way out of a jam. It was Rukia at her best, in his opinion.

_**You're the one lying here. She infuriates you no end. Sometimes it's all you can do not to grab her and slap her and…**_

"You fought so hard, and gave me a home in two worlds. I had never really known what that was like. Part of it was my own fault, for not realizing it was something I only needed to open my eyes to see. And when that finally dawned upon me, I thought about what I could do to thank you for it. It didn't take long to find the answer."

And Rukia dropped her head so that she might whisper in his ear.

"I realized that I could love you, Ichigo."

In an instant, the body in her arms went stiff. All crying ceased. Rukia held on all the more.

A moment later, his grip slackened. He drew away, and stared at her in open, honest amazement. The teen held on to this presence, this moment. He didn't think about who might see them like this, or anything besides. Nobody and nothing else mattered.

Rukia wasn't smiling. She looked completely and totally serious. "Understand that what I'm saying to you has nothing to do with the war we're about to fight, or my anticipation about whether or not I expect to survive it. Know only that if I live, I will do everything in my power to make your life one that you can live in happiness and without fear."

Fierce luminous eyes, pale skin, that black lock of hair that fell over her nose.

He remembered how she looked right then with utmost clarity. The words she spoke next made sure he would never forget.

"I love you, Ichigo Kurosaki."

There was a moment's pause.

Then she simply stood up and walked away.

The boy she loved sat and watched her go.

Did you hear that?

…_**shut up.**_

Yeah. You did. And you know what it means, right?

_**No.**_

Don't lie. I can feel how scared you are right now.

_**Idiot! That's not me, it's YOU!**_

No. For once, it really isn't me. It's all coming from _you. _Because you just saw it, didn't you?

_**Be quiet, king. Shut your sappy little piehole right NOW, do you HEAR ME?**_

_That_ was my future. Right there, you sorry piece of shit. The same kind of love that brought me into this world in the first place…

_**NO!**_

…_will be what takes YOU out of it._

_**YOU! You sorry old bastard, help me stop it! Help me KILL HER! Don't you see? Don't you understand what it means? Without me, he'll die! We'll all of us die! Do you really want that?**_

_Fear of death? Is that what you think can motivate me to your side? How pitiable._

_**It's the truth! Don't try to deny it! Forget about the damn future, think about right now! That last one wasn't even the strongest of them, there's three more, and that talking asshole Aizen to boot! You think Ichigo can do anything against them without giving me what I want? We've already seen this Vaizard crap isn't going to cut it anymore! We're the same, aren't we? Help me NOW!**_

_And therein lies the difference between the king and you. _

_**WHAT?**_

_Hope. You don't have it. But he does. Even in the face of certain death, Ichigo will look forward to something that will enable him to prevail._

_**Yeah! ME!**_

_And if you were to lose, what then?_

_**Me? LOSE? Impossible!**_

_Since you cannot answer, I will tell you. Ichigo would fight on regardless. He would fight, because that is what motivates him, his very basest instinct. Have you forgotten even that elementary lesson, the first one he used to bring you to your knees?_

_**IMPOSSIBLE!**_

_That's what they all say. Hopeless creatures like you. Remember Ulquiorra, how he reacted when Ichigo wouldn't give up even in the face of his full strength? He recognized that all his power would not be enough to get him what he wants. When next we meet, that realization may just prove to be his undoing. But we will endure._

_**Words. It's just words, you know. If you keep following this holy hero crap, it'll only wind up getting us all killed.**_

_As long as we still win, that is acceptable._

_**You fool. You stupid, heedless fool. Death means you LOST!**_

_Not if you were fighting for something other than just to win. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?_

_**It's BULLSHIT!**_

_You know your future, now._

_**Shut up! I don't know anything like that!**_

_When the time comes, try and face your end with a modicum of dignity._

_**It'll never happen. **_

_Nothing lives forever, you know._

_**I do. I can.**_

_Off with you, now. The adults have things we must discuss._

…_**fuck you all.**_

And with that, the monster vanished into the darkness of his soul.

_Ichigo._

Yeah?

_How do you feel now?_

He considered that question.

Like I can take on the world, old man.

_That's what I like to hear._

* * *

The Shinigami War Party of Las Noches and Affiliated Entities watched in anticipation. After making some adjustments and last-minute calculations, her collaborator gave her the signal, and Neliel made a gesture. The clear sunlit sky before them suddenly opened up like a wound, displaying a pure black void. Another two such pits then formed beside it.

"Now then," Captain Kurotsuchi clapped his hands, positively vibrating with academic interest. "As you can see, we once more have a means of vacating this inhospitable clime, and in record time. Are you all thoroughly impressed?"

"A most timely accomplishment, Mayuri-sama," Rukia spoke up from beside Ichigo. He glanced down at her questioningly.

"You're a genius, Captain Kurotsuchi." That came from Renji, and the orange-haired ruffian shot him a look that clearly said, 'What the hell, man?' In response, the lieutenant raised his tattooed eyebrows laconically, as if to say, 'What? Anything to keep this whacko happy so he doesn't get pissy and drop us into Hell.'

Mayuri bared yellow teeth in satisfaction at this perfunctory but undeniable praise. "Splendid! Now, on to other matters." He ran a hand over the glowing crystal ball before him, and the portals widened further. "Owing to the fact that I do not completely put my faith in anyone whose nervous system I don't own, and to limit the possibility of an ambush, we are taking this trip by three different routes."

Odelschvank didn't seem bothered by this offhanded slight, though her _fracción _casually made identical rude hand gestures at the shinigami scientist from one side.

"This indirect method we are using is the same our enemies employed, though with some personal modifications. There will be no need for any of you to concentrate on forming reiatsu bridges, that task will be overseen on my end. This means you will not have to deplete yourselves any further before entering into the battle site. Bear in mind," and he raised a finger warningly. "You will be dropped directly into the middle of the fight, through the barrier that has been erected around the facsimile of Karakura. There is no way to tell what might have transpired in the time since the showdown began. I take no responsibility for what happens to you after you are out of the _Garganta_. Know only that your journey to that battlefield will be as precise and peaceful as a walk down the street."

"Stop using sissy words like that," Kenpachi grumbled where he squatted. "You'll spoil the mood."

"So then," Captain Unohana spoke up. "All that remains is for us to divide into three parties and proceed. Captain Kuchiki and I have already decided on the arrangement." She stepped out in front of the group and turned to regard them all. "Abarai-fukutaichou, you will join your captain, Kuchiki-chan and Yasutora-san to be the first through." These four slowly moved together. "Ishida-san, Zaraki-taichou, Kusajishi-fukutaichou, and Yamada-san will comprise the second."

Ichigo flinched a bit and cast a look down at Rukia, but she was already moving away from him. Speaking out could lead to some uncomfortable questions vis-à-vis her brother Byakuya, so he decided not to bring it up.

"Finally, Kurosaki-san, you will accompany me and my lieutenant so that we may see to your replenishment before the fight."

Wait a minute. The math in these groups was a little off. "Hey!" he perked up then. "What about Nel? And for that matter, what about Mayuri and Nemu?"

"How did you just refer to me, you _dolt?"_ Mayuri hissed, clearly distraught at the informal manner of address.

"Welcome to my world," Byakuya Kuchiki spoke as he strode regally toward the dimensional vortex.

"These parties were determined in terms of total reiatsu, not numbers," Retsu replied to the question, "And for reasons of security in regards to the _Garganta,_ Kurotsuchi-sensei and his lieutenant will remain behind with the young lady and her men to ensure that nothing goes amiss during our transfer. Once we are safely across, he will join us on the other side."

Ichigo glanced uncertainly over at the green-haired _Espada_. Call him old-fashioned, but the thought of leaving her here practically undefended with the devilish doctor didn't sit too well with his sensibilities. In spite of the way she looked right now (and the way it made certain parts of his body react without his consent), he still couldn't shake the impression that she was no more than a child in need of protection.

Feeling his eyes upon her, Neliel looked over and favored him with a smile.

The next thing he knew, she had glomped him in one of those fiercely possessive hugs.

He gagged, feeling things grinding unpleasantly within his body (not to mention what was grinding rather pleasantly against him). "Lucky bastard," he clearly heard Renji mutter, and desperately he chanced a glance over to see how Rukia might be responding to this situation. She had her back turned, whether by chance or choice. However, before he could concoct anything by way of an explanation, his affectionate attacker's voice murmured in his ear. She sounded completely calm.

"No need for worry, Ichigo. I'll be fine here. Surprisingly enough, I know how to deal with dangerous men. Just don't ask any questions when I get there, and take care of yourself until I do."

Just what the hell was that supposed to mean?

"Ichigo…"

Huh? He stirred. Something in her voice had changed, and Nel drew away a bit, her slate-colored eyes staring purposefully into his own. She looked more apprehensive now than when she had been fighting Nnoitra.

"You need to promise me something."

"Er…" Who could say where this was leading? Not I. "Okay. What?"

"When you get there…" and she took a shaky breath before proceeding, "Please watch out for Ichimaru."

Come again? Why that guy in particular, he was just about to ask. But at this point she drew away from him, and went back to rejoin her cohorts before the question could be put to her.

"All right, then!" Kurotsuchi trilled. "No more time for risqué behavior. Prepare yourselves for the ride of your lives!"

* * *

Renji Abarai sat on what appeared to be a flying carpet composed of pure spirit power. The tunnel of nothingness down which they flew was headed towards a bright light off in the distance. So far nothing untoward had happened. All the same, he knew exactly what they were going to find once they got where they were going. And it wouldn't be nearly as sedate an environment as this. To prepare, he drew Zabimaru, checking the blade for any sign of distress. Nope, everything seemed to be all hunky-dory.

A slight angle of the blade then, and he could see Rukia sitting next to her unflappable brother in its reflection.

_Get your head in the game, brother. We can't…_

…_afford to waste time thinking about your love life…_

_Or lack thereof._

I was just wondering. Does she look different to you?

_Let us see. Hmmm…_

_No._

It's something I can't put my finger on. She looks… I dunno. Calm? Focused?

_How is someone supposed to look…_

…_before a battle? Shaking and scared? You know her…_

…_better than that._

It's got nothing to do with the fight. I think something major happened for her after we split up. More than what we went through, and it changed her. She looks…

_What? _

_Spit it out._

Dangerous.

This thought apparently caused both of his guardian spirits to hold their tongues, whether from surprise or concern. For his part, the determined dogfighter continued to study his longtime partner with an intense scrutiny that would have been slightly embarrassing under most circumstances. Now, however, the sight of her filled him with something akin to peace.

She's worth fighting for, he thought to himself. I know that I never told her that before, but when all this is over, that's exactly what I'm going to do. And then I'm going to prove it.

Another tilt of the shaft, and Byakuya's face came into view.

To everybody.

* * *

"Rukia."

She blinked when he said her name, and glanced over at him attentively.

"Yes, Nii-sama?"

"Are you well?"

Her lips parted slightly, and there was a tinge of confusion in her face, or perhaps hesitation. Byakuya knew a great deal about reading his adopted sister's moods, no matter how she might try to hide them. He had a long time to practice watching her from afar, after all.

"I'm prepared for what we have to face, Nii-sama."

She had chosen to take his question in reference to what lay in store ahead of them, but he had meant it in terms of what was behind. That might have been a tactful request that he let the matter drop.

But now was not the time for tact.

"You killed one of their generals." This was something he wanted to be clear on beforehand.

She didn't appear proud at such an accomplishment. Hurt, and shaken. It was upsetting to have Rukia appear this way as a result of his prodding. He had hoped, after their newfound relationship that had resulted from her trip to the world of the living, that he would never have to see her distressed by being near him again.

During his recovery from the injuries sustained on Sokyōku Hill, he had found more than just Yoruichi being willing to approach him again. Following the reconciliation with his first lover, Rukia had started showing up to his sickbed as well. This was nothing like his visits from the cat-goddess (and _there_ was a particularly disturbing thought. Yoruichi had mentioned it in that context, she had claimed by way of a joke, but her sense of humor was of the piercingly aggravating type). His sister had, for assuredly the first time ever, looked at him without any trace of fear.

When he had awoken that first day, to see her sitting calmly beside him, he almost hadn't recognized her. She had been dressed in her shinigami uniform, and he had the distinct impression that Rukia was watching over him while he slept, to make sure that nothing and no one would harm him. The first attempts at conversation had remained somewhat awkward, filled with unspoken wishes and blocked by painful memories. But knowing what she meant to him in his heart, he had persevered, and apparently he meant enough to her to do the same. They had talked quietly at first about small things. What was happening in the clan, how she was dealing with being the head of the Kuchiki now, and what their respective squads were involved in. He had already received such reports from Renji and his household staff, but hearing it from her was something of confirmation. Not to the veracity of their statements, but to the impression he had taken away from them, however they might have actually intended it to be, that his temporary replacement was doing quite well for herself at this time.

He had complimented her on that; tersely, of course, so as not to display any improper affection. And he had found, somewhat surprisingly, that Rukia had a charming tendency to blush whenever he spoke well of her. Charming, and alarming. If this was how she looked when she was happy, then he would have to take steps to ensure that none of the past or present suitors who had expressed interest in her should ever see it. If they did, it would only serve to heighten their diabolical interest in her. No, this was something that must be encouraged properly, in controlled settings, where there was no risk involved. He would make sure of that. After all, his duty as her elder brother was to see that his little sister was kept clear of the designs of wicked and unscrupulous men.

Especially teenagers.

With orange hair.

And foul mouths.

And overinflated egos that made him want to have them caned to within an inch of their lives in front of a crowd of onlookers while he sat sipping tea and watching the clouds go by.

But seriously, Byakuya had come to cherish the new life he was living with Hisana's sister. He had slowly come to the realization that he hardly ever thought of her in those terms anymore. She was not just an obligation to his long-lost wife, or someone who bore a distressingly strong resemblance to her. This was Rukia, his sibling and fellow shinigami. Both of these roles were therefore developed to a much greater and more comfortable extent than ever before. They had participated in certain artistic enterprises that had left him appreciative of her talents, and her for his. He had agreed to Rukia's suggestion that he sit in on one of her training sessions with her fighting instructor, Ayasegawa, and contribute to the proceedings. Her brother had done this without mentioning that he had veritable months of recorded footage of such contests, so this could hardly be considered his first time as an observer. Some things were best left unsaid. It was done to protect her.

He loved her.

This was not in an impassioned or improper way, of course. It was more the sort of affection that one extended to those people who had proven themselves to be a blessing in your lives at every turn. Parents, or close friends. Or a sister. Upon reflection, there were several times in his past that he felt he had not done enough to show his parents how much he truly cared for them. Byakuya Kuchiki was resolved that there be no further such lapses concerning Rukia. She must never feel a surfeit of compassion from him. He would protect her.

And he would kill anyone who threatened her, in any way.

Hence his execution of the disgusting creature that had sought to defame and murder her back in Las Noches. That had been done swiftly and with more malice than he might have originally intended. But the only living witness to that display of his temper had been sworn to secrecy. Isane Kotetsu knew what would become of her if he happened to learn that her sister Kiyone had been using her information dissemination skills to spread such a rumor. The consequences would be dire.

This was war they were in. And greater than his desire to see justice done to the vile reprobates behind it was his determination that Rukia come through it unscathed.

So he had to say…

"You did well in defeating that opponent."

And there was the blush. Swiftly he made sure that no one else could see it before proceeding. "However, in the battle ahead, you realize that there will be enemies of a stature that you cannot handle on your own. I do not want to see you taking a cue from the Kurosaki boy and attempting to vanquish every opponent single-handed. Remember your position as part of the Gotei 13. Work with your allies. Fight with them to achieve victory. Glory is something only idiots of the Eleventh are concerned with. Do you understand?"

She nodded in confirmation. "I do, Nii-sama. I will remember my training, and see to the safety of my compatriots."

"Very good."

* * *

Not for the first time, Uryū had to wonder what exactly those two shinigami captains had been thinking when they lumped him in with this lot. A more disappointing collection of errant misfits he had not seen outside of a middle school cafeteria. Dressed in his pristine Quincy raiment in the midst of all these grimly-dressed death gods, he felt like a disco dancer at a funeral.

Flexing the fingers of his newly-restored hand, Ishida suddenly heard a giggle beside him.

Turning, he found himself being ogled by the cotton-candy-haired child lieutenant of the Eleventh.

She was sucking on a lollipop and twisting absently from one foot to another, never taking her eyes off him. A smile could be seen on her wet candy-coated lips. Another giggle came from her, and her eyes sparkled with something he was not sure he liked seeing in anyone, least of all a kid.

Suddenly Yachiru popped the confection out of her mouth and extended it out to him.

"Want some?"

"Ahhh…"

He was just about to refuse, when suddenly, the dark-draped mountain seated at the head of their transport quaked. That spiked head turned, ever so slightly, and one wide yellow eye glared a baleful warning directly at him.

Of a sudden Ishida experienced the sensation of being picked up and broken over someone's knee like a twig.

He blinked and shook his head. Damn 'killing intent' illusions! He hated when that happened. However, the lanky magician was not stupid enough to disregard its meaning. And so, suppressing any shudders of revulsion, he leaned in and gave the gleaming lollipop the briefest possible lick.

Kusajishi's face glowed and she hopped up and down, stuffing her treat back into her mouth. She then went humming and bouncing over to where her savage protector crouched, crawling up his robe one handful at a time. When she reached the summit, he distinctly heard her say in piping childish tones, "He's pretty, Kenny!"

A disturbing groan was Zaraki's only response, and Ishida found himself scooting as far away from that crazed killer as he could. Doing so brought him into the company of Hanatarō Yamada, who apparently had the exact same idea a while back.

"H… hello," the shinigami whispered timidly, as though fearful speaking in his normal voice would draw the captain's ire.

"Hi."

The ninety-pound wimp curled in on himself like a pill bug. "I really wish I could have had some say in which party I went with. I don't know what Unohana-taichou was thinking, putting me in here with them!"

"Agreed." Ishida took off his glasses and polished them unnecessarily, just for something to do while they waited. "I think we actually might have been safer back with Kurotsuchi."

"She does have a gentle touch," Yamada sighed.

"What?"

He glanced over suspiciously, and his ally twitched.

"Eh… I-I mean, a gentle look…about her… is what I meant to say."

He was fingering a spot on his stomach. Something told the Quincy that he did not want to delve too deeply into the meaning behind those words. So instead he settled for redirecting the conversation.

"Do you know how long a transport like this might take?"

"No." The shinigami shook his head. "We usually travel by way of the Senkaimon and hell butterflies. I've never gone through a _Garganta_ before today. And on our trip to Hueco Mundo, I was too concerned about what we might find when we came out."

"What awaits us at the end of this tunnel might be just as unpleasant."

"You don't have to worry," Yamada offered quickly, attempting to put on a comforting face. He had been told by many of his patients that he had no talent for this, but practice makes perfect. "Because of the spiritual displacement pillars, your hometown is now safe in Soul Society, so all the people you love are under our direct protection. Aizen and his Hollows will never get past the captains to reach them. You can count on it!"

Apparently this human was as unaffected by his attempts at cheer as his fellow spirits, so instead he chose a different tactic. "So, do you have… family in Karakura? Brothers and sisters?"

"No," Ishida responded tersely. "I am an only child."

"Oh. Me too." He twisted the fabric of his shihakushō between his fingers, his melancholy eyes drifting off to scan the side of the tunnel. "My father died in the field a long time ago, when I was just a baby. He was from the Fourth, like me, but he's actually somewhat of a legend in our ranks. He single-handedly killed a Hollow that had slain over a hundred shinigami. Of course, he died doing it, but all the same, my mother and I never lacked for anything after that. It was partly due to his legacy that I managed to become the Seventh seat in my company."

Uryū was not exactly disposed to discussing respective parentage, so instead he merely said, "I was taught by my grandfather."

"Was he a good teacher?"

"The best."

A nod of understanding. "That's good."

"Your Twelfth squad captain had him killed, and for that he will die."

Conversation stalled at that point. Nothing was said for a while.

Then the archer stirred.

"Yamada-san…"

The death god started. "Y-yes?"

"What your captain said earlier, about how we were divided up… was that really done for a reason?"

He sounded rather intimidating somehow. Of course, Hanatarō was used to being overwhelmed, but usually it was the result of being confronted with much bigger, scarier-looking people. This guy wouldn't have been someone he would have figured could make him quake like this, but you learn something new every day.

"I… think so. It's the reason Urahara-san gave for when he had us take four separate gates as well. He said that in order to maintain a level of secrecy for our arrival, and to prevent any possibility of the tunnel's integrity becoming distorted by all our reiatsu, we needed to proceed in small groups."

"I see." The boy remained silent.

After a few more seconds, though, he spoke again. But quietly this time, like he was debating with himself.

"Tell me something. Sōsuke Aizen has been building up an army in Hueco Mundo for years now, yes?"

"Er… centuries, by our current estimates."

"And he supposedly has amassed a sufficiently large force to challenge the might of the entire Gotei 13."

"We're afraid so."

The archer's glasses flashed. "So then answer me this. When we arrived in Hueco Mundo, where exactly were they?"

"Who?" Yamada glanced around in confusion.

"The army. Of Hollows. While we were there, we didn't actually meet too many of them. And there certainly wasn't a sign of any large force gathering."

"There… wasn't?"

"No." Ishida now turned to regard him directly. "There wasn't evidence of them anywhere. On top of that, according to what Neliel told us, once Aizen sealed off Hueco Mundo, only _Espada_ would be able to move about freely. But she said she felt the three that were unaccounted for open a way out just a few minutes after he left. And considering how powerful they are, if the theory that Urahara mentioned about spatial distortion holds for them too, there was only a limited amount of followers Hollows that strong could safely bring over with them. So that means, if the army was still back in Hueco Mundo, they wouldn't have any way to leave. Right?"

"I guess not." This was starting to sound more and more disturbing. Just what exactly could it mean?

"So then…?"

Yamada gazed at him blankly.

"What?"

"If Aizen has gone to start a war on Earth, why didn't his entire army go with him?"

"I…"

They stared at one another.

"I don't know."

"Neither do I." Uryū turned and glared ahead of them. "And that worries me."

_To be continued…_


	22. Fox's Prey: A Growing Relationship

Isane glanced over her shoulder. "Are you doing all right back there, Kurosaki-san?"

Staring up at Unohana's face with his head resting in her lap, Ichigo responded in an uncharacteristically soft voice, "Yes, thank you, very well."

Her hands were on either side of his head. The captain's eyes were closed, and so he was given the opportunity to observe her without feeling self-conscious. It was hard to believe that this woman was reputedly the oldest captain in Soul Society. She looked appealing enough to attract the eye of his classmate Mizuiro, his preference for older women being well-established. Heck, this beauty could be right at home as the centerfold in any of Keigo's adult magazines. That is, if it wouldn't have felt like seeing your mom in one of them. Which it would have. There was just something about her that let you know she would care about you, and it would be wrong to take advantage of that.

I hate to even think this, but no healing _ever_ felt this good. Not when Orihime or Rukia did it. This was like Yoruichi's restoration hot-spring, only with a dash of affection and maternal nurturing thrown in. It ought to be illegal, being able to make a man feel this way and still look…

"Kurosaki-san…"

She spoke, and he gave a guilty start. Please tell me she can't read minds. If she can, I am in so much trouble about that magazine thing.

"Yes, ma'am?" he whispered, anticipation and dread causing his breathing to go shallow.

"May I ask you a question?"

You're the one in charge here, lady. I won't stop you.

"Sure."

Her eyes opened then, and the ageless mother goddess' features turned down. This close, he could see everything in vivid detail. Was there some kind of prerequisite that all shinigami ladies be some minimum degree of hotness? The guys certainly didn't have such a conditional decree.

"Do you think ill of us shinigami?"

The question was completely unexpected, and as such he didn't have time to think how to respond. He just did.

"Yes."

Apparently whatever she had been expecting him to say, it wasn't that, for her eyes widened to such an extent that he might have grown a second head. Perhaps he should add an addendum to that.

"Don't get me wrong, I like and respect a lot of you. But when I was in Soul Society, I couldn't help noticing that it was a lot like being in high school. There's a lot of ordinary folks, and a few outstanding ones, and there are more bullies than should ever be allowed. The people I talked to outside of the Seireitei all said that the majority of shinigami were jerks who would sooner beat you than look at you. It reminded me of history class, and reading about the samurai and what sort of monsters they devolved into when there weren't any wars to fight. All they did was abuse and kill folks. I think you guys have got to seriously change your society, or you're going to be seeing more maniacs like Aizen popping up in the future."

Apparently Retsu didn't know quite how to respond to that, for she continued staring at him. The restoration of his power, however, continued uninterrupted, so clearly she wasn't that taken aback.

"And on a personal note," Kurosaki continued, "I still haven't forgotten what you were going to do to Rukia."

On his skin, her fingers shivered slightly.

"No. I imagine you haven't."

He stirred in his black-clad seat. "Can I ask _you_ something?"

"Of course."

"I remember seeing you there. Kyōraku and Ukitake stepped up to stop it, but nobody else. Were you really going to stand there and watch her be killed just because that Council told you to?"

And her lips lifted slightly in a self-deprecating smile.

"No. But you saw what happened to those who stepped out of line in our world, Kurosaki-san. Yamamoto was ready to kill the two you mentioned, even though he thinks of them as his own sons. And now, we are going to crush the three who betrayed us. Once that has been accomplished, do you think anyone will be willing to listen to you in terms of changing the rules?"

Of a sudden she leaned over, until they were staring directly into each other's eyes, and Ichigo found himself no longer focusing on how beautiful she was. Something different and more dangerous than a lovely healer was looking at him now.

"Tell me what you think your role in this war is going to be, Kurosaki Ichigo. Have you already determined for yourself that you will be the one who kills Sosuke Aizen and ends this conflict? You are the hero in a manga, sent to save our world, and therefore you will be endowed with the power to change it afterwards? That is an awfully childish way to view things, regardless of how powerful I now know you to be. But then, you have never really viewed war the way we have. Your generation among the humans is one still in its infancy, so I cannot blame you for it. But please, Kurosaki-san, no matter what happens today, no matter how aggrieved you may be when the dust settles, I ask that you do not rush heedlessly into another conflict in which you are one person against heaven. You attempted that once before, and while admittedly you did achieve success, I do not believe it would end so nicely for you a second time. No one died then, but they could have. If you tempt fate again, I fear you would not be so fortunate."

The youth stared up at his elder. Out of all the things she had said, the one that surprised him the most was to learn that Retsu knew what manga were.

It didn't make him any less determined, however.

"I'm sorry, Unohana-sama. I appreciate everything you've done for me, and I think you genuinely care about the people who come into your hands. But I didn't believe in heaven before, and after seeing how Soul Society treats its souls, that hasn't changed. No matter what you might think, things are going to be different now. You can't have it your way forever."

And suddenly there was fear.

That's what he felt next, coming on him suddenly like a dark cloud blowing over a previously gorgeous sun. Unohana Retsu had lost any trace of affection, and what lay beneath left him chilled to the bone.

"Understand this, young one," she said in a low, toneless murmur. "I was not consulted when any of this was first decided. Had I been, I assure you, things would have been different."

Kurosaki had enough time to swallow, and then once more he was faced with the very picture of warm, compassionate motherhood.

"Now please, lie back and rest. We'll soon have you home, and then we will have to put such discussions aside for a while. I truly hope that we will be able to finish our chat in a more hospitable clime."

* * *

The boy awoke in a warm peaceful plain with short brown grass under a sky filled with fluffy clouds.

He came upright, and looked down at himself. He was wearing a dark blue kimono with red lines, finer than anything he had ever felt. The sleeves did not quite reach past his elbows, and observing his arms, he noticed that they did not appear as skinny as he remembered.

Memory.

The flash of the blade, the burning unnatural fire that consumed him. He remembered what he had been in death. But apparently, nothing before that.

It wasn't supposed to be like that, was it? If he was where he thought he was, as he understood it, that part of his life should have been cleansed along with his sins. He remembered learning that much throughout the years, and he also remembered discounting it as a fantasy, just like the other stories that humans fed each other about how it was not so bad to die. He had known better. Enough to know that such a paradise would never welcome someone like him.

Apparently, he had only been partly right. This place looked nice enough to be a home. Wandering about through the trees, he came at last upon a small lake, and bending down to cup some water in his hands, he got his first good look at his face in a very long time.

When he saw red eyes still staring back at him, the water fell through his fingers untouched.

On what had become instinct, he shut his eyes tight, then opened them a crack, enough to see clearly, at least for him.

Silver hair stayed just as he had remembered it, along with his face and hands. But as his lids slid higher, it became clear that his first impression had been accurate. His irises were the same color as what they had been following his fall from grace.

Was this some kind of punishment upon him? A mark to let others know what he had been, and how they should avoid him as a result? He had never thought he would hate the sight of his own reflection.

Apparently, he was still meant to be alone. A man alone.

One man.

Ichi-maru.

Yes. That could be his new name here. As for a surname…

The sunlight flashed off silver hair in the pool before him.

Gin.

Gin Ichimaru. That was the name people could call if they wanted him now. As for the eyes, he wouldn't allow that to be used against him. So decided, he narrowed them down to slits.

Whole new life. Nothing to be afraid of, he remembered a voice saying that to him. Put on a brave face now, he told the figure on the water.

And was pleased as his image smiled back at him.

* * *

To Gin's annoyance, heaven wasn't everything he could have hoped for.

For starters, there was none of the comfort he had been told to expect. Much to his extreme dislike, it didn't take long before he started to feel hungry. That wasn't something he recalled humans mentioning in his earshot. There was food at hand, if you didn't mind looking for it and shimmying up a tree when you found it. The first he ever found was a grove of persimmon trees. These juicy fruits proved too soft and messy to transport handily, and so he left them out in the sun to dry. After a few days, he had a collection of fine, light produce. Not to mention, the sour, bitter taste was a vast improvement over their ripe forms. All in all, it was a discovery.

After that it became a matter of making a journey. With his provisions handy in case he started to feel weak, the solitary traveler began to explore the kingdom of heaven. In doing so, he found that walking did not seem to tire him out much. However, dirt still clung to him, a thing he decided early on he would no longer suffer. Though he maintained the image of a mere boy, at heart he had lived for quite some time, and he recognized that his wishes should be clearly delineated. Children got dirty. Adults did not. Let that serve as a sign to any people he met.

As it turned out, these precautions did not bear fruit, so to speak, for quite some time. There was no way to tell for sure how long he wandered alone, true to his name. But it was enough to make him glad he had never been much for socializing anyway. And it gave him enough time to get a clear grasp of some of the rules here. There were animals, and plants. Apparently, he had no wings to fly, nor could he simply float as had been the case back in the living world. So far, Soul Society was turning out to be the land of false promises. It did nothing to improve his mood.

The first people he found were in singularly poor shape. They fled at the sight of him, and he couldn't help but smile at that. Truth be told, upon encountering them, he had been somewhat afraid himself. It had been a long time since he had been called upon to engage in conversation with anyone without having to consider whether or not he could kill them were he to be attacked. Hollows were not social creatures at heart. Therefore, it was really a relief to know that if all else failed, he could still intimidate them.

After a few days, he realized that whatever community he had stumbled across, it didn't seem like it was just him they were afraid of. More like everybody and everything. No one seemed to do much besides run and hide. It made for one-sided discourse.

And then he finally met someone willing to stand their ground.

"Gimee the food, kid," the filthy brute with the sword informed him. The unarmed crew behind him made no sound, but their faces revealed what they would do to him if he resisted. Gin had no desire to learn if he could still experience pain.

So without a word of protest, he held out the cloth satchel containing his supplies.

And he smiled through his fear.

This caused some consternation among the thugs. Clearly they were not used to anyone directing such friendly features their way. It served to rob them of whatever courage they might have had. Even the usual menacing stare from their leader did nothing to motivate them in the face of this eerie unknown situation. With a disgusted snort, he then leaned down to take what he had earned.

Gin gave it to him.

Faster than the robber could see, fingers lanced out, punching into the soft hollow of his throat. It was a move intended to disable, giving him time to escape. Instead the silver hair was suddenly spattered with gore, as Ichimaru's fingers went through his skin like it was paper and tore out the back of his neck without any resistance.

The rest scattered before the man's last dying wheeze. Gin stood there and studied his fingers, wondering what had just happened. It had been so easy. Did he really just kill that man? A spirit, killing another spirit?

That was the hardest lesson to learn. Apparently, even here, he could still die.

The feel of a sword chopping through his own neck flared suddenly, and the seeming child whipped around, searching for any enemy that might be creeping up on him. But there was nothing. The street was deserted save for himself. All the same, he felt greatly disturbed by what had just happened. He was clearly not as helpless as his form might let on. Still, Soul Society had once again failed to live up to his expectations.

Right then and there, Gin decided that he would never again fall to anyone's blade. Death had claimed him for the last time.

The sword he picked off his attacker's body turned out to be as soft and useless as a blade of grass in his hand, so he discarded it. He then proceeded to hunt down the men who had accosted him. They were quite slow by comparison, and soon he had one caught and bound, the better to answer his questions. Of course, this took some persuading on his part. He was not in any frame of mind to be gentle, either. Soon enough, he was given some idea of where he had found himself.

This place of minimal civilization was known as Zaraki. It was the first of eighty rings, at the center of which was supposedly a paradise inhabited by the strongest spirits. The outer reaches where he had come from were considered too uncivilized to even warrant a name. Gin took that as something of an insult, that he had come out there. That information was something he decided would be kept to himself from now on. Another secret wouldn't make much of a difference.

Of course, this necessitated he dispose of his captive. For the sake of relieving his boredom, which was fast becoming one of the biggest issues in his life, he decided to see how much fun he could have with that. As it happened, this turned out to be quite a lot. After this, he went back to wandering.

* * *

Gin was walking down a street in the district called Inuzuri. He had been here several times before, it was a good place to snatch anything he needed and get away quickly. For the sake of his privacy, he had chosen long ago not to draw too much attention to himself. After all, he knew who might be called in were he to make as much of a name for himself as he had in his last life.

The sun was shining bright and warm, and he was just reaching back to his satchel to get a bite to eat, when someone came running around a corner, knocking into him before he could move aside. He caught a quick glimpse of a woman sobbing as he turned to watch her flight.

"Bitch!" Ichimaru called out casually as she disappeared down the street.

Her desperate flight made him curious, however. Was someone pursuing her? Was there anything worth investigating back the way she came?

Turning the corner, the outcast found himself in a small field of grass between two houses. Apparently there had once been a home here, but all that remained now was a few stones strewn in no particular order. That and a fair amount of garbage. Before him was the back of another building, and nothing more. Rather mysterious, really.

Then he noticed movement among the grass.

Drawing closer, Ichimaru was somewhat surprised to see a baby, wrapped in a towel.

A girl, by his guess. Crouching down before her, Gin found himself staring into a pair of wide blue eyes so dark they almost looked purple. The infant stared right back at him, moving and twitching slightly. She did not make a sound.

On impulse, he leaned close and opened his red eyes wide.

At this, the child began to cry.

Laughing, he fell back on his rear, kicking his ankles up in the air. After a few seconds, though, the child stopped crying, and his eyes were back to slits.

Well, that was fun. What now?

If he left her here, there was little doubt she would meet some quick and messy end. Adult spirits didn't last very long in this region, after all. It was a poor place for someone to grow up, that he knew. Any decent soul would choose to take the infant's life into his care and make sure it came to a good end.

Or at least a quick one.

Still, there was something about this toddler. A vague impression he couldn't quite put his finger on. Regardless, it spoke to him in a way no one else he had met here had. Like the words that sometimes came unbidden into his head these days, in a voice he didn't recognize.

So he debated for a while, as the sun went down and the girl twitched aimlessly at his feet.

Eventually, Gin came to a decision.

He stood up. Looking down at the waif who had ceased to regard him, he murmured, "We all gotta make our own way."

Then he turned and left, heading home. He felt nothing at leaving her there.

* * *

One day, Gin Ichimaru fell in love.

While walking through the barren wastes of the lawless region beyond Zaraki, collecting some persimmons he had happened upon, he noticed a body lying stretched out, and to satisfy his curiosity, he went to investigate.

What he found there was a figure about his size, with what seemed to be… golden hair.

Suddenly, that person turned their head through the dirt. Slowly. Painfully.

Gin then looked upon the most beautiful face he would ever know.

Whatever he had been thinking before went clean out of his head. Now he found himself hoping she might speak to him, notice him, be with him. For the first time in his life, he wanted to have someone's attention totally upon him.

However, she didn't seem capable of doing much of anything. Lying there helpless. It suddenly occurred to him that she had collapsed from hunger.

And that meant that she was like him.

Without any consideration for what he was about to lose, his solitude, his food, and perhaps even his pride, Ichimaru took a persimmon from those clutched in his arms and held it out for her, smiling in a way that he really felt for a change.

"Are ya hungry?"

* * *

Much to his delight, Gin found Rangiku Matsumoto to not only be willing to speak to him, she was not intimidated by his appearance in the slightest. And so, they came to know one another. Working together, the two seeming children developed a new way to exist in this spiritual plane, and found that their lives were vastly improved by doing so. In the ruins of what once must have been a fine house, they made a home for themselves. This would prove to be the most carefree and wonderful time in the former Hollow's life. He prayed that it would go on forever.

Their close proximity to an area of Soul Society well-known for Hollow activity was a source of concern for Gin especially, although Rangiku proved to be much more fearless. Perhaps because she did not know them as well as he did. All the same, moving anywhere into the regular regions of Rukongai was not an option. Slaving under the yoke of whatever local gangs ruled in those areas held no appeal for either of them. And crouching in the shadow of the shinigami's walls was even less desirable. The two of them labored under no delusions in that regard. And so, they courted the edge of disaster in their self-made domicile.

One night, the boy was awoken by a sense of disturbance. Thinking it to be a Hollow come calling, he rose quietly so as not to wake Matsumoto and moved into a shadowy corner by the door. Peering around the edge, he waited for the intruder to make itself known. If he could kill it swiftly, there might not even be a need to disturb his beloved's rest.

For several minutes, he crouched in readiness.

Then something flickered on the edge of his vision, and glancing over, he found a cloaked figure standing at the center of the room.

Before he could leap to attack, there came a whispering, and the next thing he knew, Gin's arms were pinioned behind his back and his forehead was pressed into the stone.

The frightened fighter attempted to scream out, warn Rangiku in the hopes that she might escape. But even his voice seemed to have been cut off. Left with nothing to do and helpless as he hadn't been in so very long, Ichimaru found himself crying. Regrettably, this was something the fiend had not taken away from him.

"**You are in my home."**

No way to respond, whether in his defense or to plead for mercy. Please, Rangiku, stay quiet. Stay still. Huddled under her blanket, perhaps the thing hadn't noticed her. If he kept its attention on him, maybe…

"**I can feel you. Both of you."**

Despair. It had seen her. He recognized now that they would both die, and that old familiar terror woke inside him. The desperate defender struggled, rage and hate mixed in with the fear now. Leave her alone! Don't touch her, you miserable vermin, I'll KILL YOU!

To his elation, he felt the bonds begin to loosen. A low moan came from his throat as well. The cloaked form turned to regard him, perhaps in surprise, but Gin gave no consideration to what it might do next. Instead he struggled to rise, finding himself coming off the floor, the horrible pressure fluctuating and shuddering against his exertions.

Then with a gasp, there came a detonation that seemed to derive from within his own being, and Ichimaru stood panting and sweating upright, glaring defiance and cold purposeful hatred at his tormentor.

"**You have power. A low-level spell, without incantation, but many others could not have broken it. Impressive, youngster."**

He stared back, flexing his fingers in preparation to spring forward.

The hooded head loomed over him suddenly, causing Gin to flinch involuntarily, and the cowl bent down.

"**This is no place for ones such as yourself. You deserve better than the barest dross our world has to offer."** It turned slightly to regard Matsumoto, then back to him. **"Wouldn't you like to see her safe? From Hollows, shinigami, and everyone else?"**

Warily, he watched that tempting figure, wondering what all this might mean and whether or not it might be a dream. From out of one concealing sleeve, something fluttered out. It looked to be a piece of paper, and as if by some magic spell, the parchment skipped and danced until it hung before him, floating in the air.

"**Take this, if you wish. Come to the shinigami academy. We will find you. And we will help you find the paradise they could not give you."**

Looking up, he found himself to be alone with his sleeping love once more.

Ichimaru grasped the paper suspiciously, peering at what was written on it. There turned out to be two slips, with identical messages that read at the top, _'Admission approved, Level 4. Shinigami Academy. Name:_' _The blank spot at the end was clearly meant to contain his name. He pondered this unexpected development for a time, then crawled back into bed. There was no sleep to be had that night, but when he awoke, it was to find the papers had not vanished with the dawn.

Gin thought on the offer for a long time. Eventually, he decided for himself that there might be some merit to it. And in time, he was able to tempt Rangiku into some level of interest regarding the academy as well. It was only then that he revealed the tickets, though not how he came to have them. Instead he pretended to find them in a satchel that he had stolen while out in the Rukongai.

She didn't question him. It hurt more than anything in his life, worse than death, even, and he never tried to make an excuse to himself for it. That would be his punishment.

The academic introductory letters turned out to be of a sufficiently high grade that no one bothered to verify their authenticity, but not so high that anyone wondered to ask how two vagrants might have come across them. And their clear talent apparently brushed any such considerations aside. They answered some questions, took a few tests, and completed some forms.

Then they went to school.

* * *

Shortly after his investiture ceremony, Captain Ichimaru Gin was feeling just a little vicious one morning, so he decided to find someone to play with.

The possibilities were endless, but on this glorious day, not just anyone would do. He really felt like he should seek out someone truly deserving of his cheerful company. For a moment he considered going to pay a call on the hunchback Yamamoto and seeing about bearding the old goat. However, such fancies he quickly dismissed. Regardless of the role he had established for himself, Sōsuke would not be pleased were he to learn that his ally had gone and risked provoking their enemy for the sake of a moment's pique. Therefore, he must be a little more creative.

Now, then. Who in this wide, wide world of pompous rigidity and strict martial stoicism would best cheer me up? Shoumen? Tempting, but she'd just end up taking it out on Rangiku later. Soifon? She was nice to look at (from a distance), and the way she moved always made him think of how marvelous it would be to take her in his arms and break her body down into something much less fluid. Unfortunately, the Squad Two captain was currently out on assignment in the mortal world. So then, how about…

The other new captain besides himself?

Byakuya Kuchiki.

He had never really gotten a chance to speak with the guy before. A grand and gracious noble couldn't be bothered to parlay with an insignificant lieutenant of no particular lineage. Of course, now that they were both high officers, there would be nothing suspicious about their crossing paths, nor would the frigid snob have any more excuse to separate himself. He had to behave with a modicum of courtesy towards his new colleagues. Yes, Gin knew exactly how that man's mind worked.

Letting his finely honed senses expand out, he honed in on the unmistakable presence of the other First seat. Once this was established, he moved to intercept him, taking a lazy, unhurried route that wouldn't make anyone wonder offhand where he might be going. That is, unless they knew him.

In no time at all, Ichimaru had found his quarry pacing along a covered walkway, apparently returning from another session of throwing his weight around the Seireitei. He sauntered prissily towards Gin in his white coat, inflated with his own self-importance, one of his underlings trailing in his wake. The Third division head noted the presence of an audience without considering much about them. Instead, he got right to work.

"Ho there, Kuchiki-taichou."

The archetypal aristocrat drew to a halt before him, that disinterested blank façade not altering by one whit at finding himself so accosted.

"Ichimaru-taichou."

He even managed to make that sound like an accusation. Gin exulted in his choice of opponents. This was exactly what he had been looking for.

"You're lookin' sharp today. How's that new command workin' out for ya? No trouble gettin' the old guard to take you seriously, I hope?"

"My authority has not been called into question by anyone, before today."

HAH! Oh, he could see by that comment how much he had really rankled him. To drive the point home, he decided to make use of another prop close at hand. "Aw, you know how it is, sometimes you gotta draw yer sword to get folks to take you seriously."

"I trust I need not have to do so with you, Third Division Captain."

You trying to threaten me, rich boy? He let it appear as though he hadn't heard anything, though. "Hey, I heard you got a fresh batch of new recruits in today. Lots of 'em must be already gearing up to go out and do the Soul Society proud. This one of 'em behind you?"

For one brief second, Ichimaru thought he saw a flash of true anger around the other man's eyes. It was so delicious he almost missed what came next.

"Ichimaru-taichou, permit me to introduce my sister, Kuchiki Rukia."

Byakuya gestured. The tiny soul standing off to one side raised her head, and Gin disinterestedly turned his own.

'_Hello, again.'_

Close. Very, very close.

He had almost found himself saying it, but he managed to catch himself in time.

Gin could hardly believe his own eyes. But those were exactly the things that told him he was certainly not mistaken, no matter how unlikely it might be.

Peering back at him was a soft, unmistakable lavender hue. Recognition was immediate, at least for him.

They belonged to that infant girl from so long ago.

Sister. Byakuya Kuchiki's little adopted sister. He remembered hearing something about this briefly, but the specifics were not jumping out at him. One thing alone was clear.

So this is the path you chose, eh? Being a toy for this well-heeled pervert? Does he play with you nicely, little one? Are you a good little pet?

Is this what I let you live for?

And of a sudden, Ichimaru found himself very, very angry. He covered it without pause, so that neither of the two before him could pick up on anything, continuing to chat placidly with his colleague. But the flavor had gone out of it, and soon he made an excuse to withdraw.

As he did, he brushed past Rukia, noting with intense approval how she shied away from him. That's good, princess. Shows you at least know that much. And you're right, things are going to get interesting between us.

A decision had been reached for him in the last few seconds. I'm going to need to have a chat with her very soon. There's a lot I have to teach her. Get her to think about what we do with the life we've been given.

Oh, yes, my little Rukia Kuchiki. We've got so many things to discuss, you and I.

* * *

"Ma'am?" the blue-robed student grunted with his face squashed against the grass. "D'yu think ah could shtand up now?"

"Oh. Certainly."

Hinamori Momo raised two fingers to her temples and murmured, "Dispel." At that, the shadowy ogre squatting atop her volunteer's neck evaporated like so much smoke. There was amused laughter from his cohorts as he sheepishly retook his seat, glowering and attempting to make light of being so effortlessly shown up by a girl half his size. This was apparently to no avail, for even knowing the rank of their instructor, it proved impossible to resist a chance to indulge in the whispering and poking that ensued.

"Stop that!"

The lieutenant's voice brought a halt to this behavior, uncharacteristically harsh for the tender-hearted officer from the Fifth. Those responsible clearly felt due shame for their misconduct judging by their solemn demeanors. Of course, that was only because they had been caught.

Rukia knew all too well how this game was played.

Sitting in the back row of this temporary wooden amphitheatre, the unobtrusive observer noted the hangdog expressions on these aspiring shinigami, and reflected on how that insincere display was identical to the ones affected by many of her former colleagues at school. Left to their own devices, she had no doubt they would have continued to taunt and ridicule that fellow for much longer. This sort of behavior was not something they taught you at the shinigami academy. Apparently it just oozed into a person over time. That or there was some primitive drive urging them to demean their fellows in order to advance themselves in the eyes of others. This was apparently something Rukia lacked.

She wasn't the only one.

"I have just shown you a technique that two current members of the Kidō Corps developed while attending this institution over fifty years ago," Hinamori announced, black eyes flashing as she stepped across the green sward where her tutorial was being held. "I did not do this to humiliate anyone in particular, and if you think that was my intent, then you can either leave now, or stand up and try to best me as well. Now are there any further comments you would like to make?"

The answer was a resounding silence.

"Do I then have your permission to continue?"

"YES, SENSEI!"

"All right, then." And the imposing disciplinarian melted back into a short charming young lady, a smile firmly etched onto her pixyish features as she managed to draw the attention of everyone sitting in that gazebo.

Rukia let her own eyes wander about their strangely nostalgic surroundings. This courtyard was located on the academy training grounds, and had been reserved in order for Momo to present her long-awaited lecture on blending demon magic. Having harbored a lingering doubt as to whether or not said lecture was anything more than a ruse Hinamori had concocted for her benefit, the lavender-eyed lady had been pleased to be given an invitation to this very same event. Another had been presented to Yumichika during their last session together, but he had declined politely, informing them that his captain had arranged something of a camp for his division, to combat what he perceived to be flagging morale. It was hard to imagine any company more exuberant than the Eleventh, but Ayasegawa insisted his leader's instincts were sharp and not to be questioned. A promise to attend the second showing next week had served to keep any hurt feelings from arising, and they had parted amiably, the two instructors saluting their sole student's progress.

This conference was the result of many months of collaboration between Kuchiki and the lieutenant, and she was finding herself weirdly proud to have helped in its creation. It might very well be the only lasting impression she would ever make on these young people, even if her contributions were silent. One of the things her host had insisted upon was that Rukia would not be required to demonstrate anything before the students, something she had been grateful to learn. One less thing to worry about, after all. But the lecture was proceeding apace, and she tuned in to listen.

"Now, how many of you saw the demon holding down Mochizuki-san?"

Over fifty hands came up immediately, the entire assembly of cadets, save for the shinigami in back.

"Have any of you ever heard of a spell that might summon such a familiar to fight for you?"

There was the sound of half a hundred arms coming back down.

"I'm a little disappointed in you all," Momo continued, pacing back and forth and raking her eyes over the class. Mercy, but she could be intimidating when she wanted to be, whether she knew she was doing it or not. Even from her position up in the wings and not an actual target of that comment, Kuchiki found herself feeling incontrovertibly guilty. Some old habits never quite went away, she supposed.

"Who would have thought Momo had it in her to be so cruel?"

She glanced over to her left. From his place sitting beside her, Izuru Kira leaned forward and settled his chin in his hands with a smile directed at their fellow death god fluttering about on the sunlit stage below. Even through the lank hair falling over his eye, she could tell that he had not left off staring at their colleague since the session began. Rukia hadn't bothered to point this out to him, as past experience had shown that the Division Three lieutenant was painfully uncomfortable discussing private matters.

One could relate. So instead she kept the conversation on track. "I've learned a good deal about Momo-sensei these last few months. She has depths that would surprise a lot of people who think they know her. Remember the nickname she got from Renji?"

Kira chuckled. As he did, 'The Mighty Momo' continued her condemnation.

"I say disappointed in that none of you recognized that no such spell exists. What you saw before you…" she gestured, and suddenly standing right beside Momo was a picture-perfect copy of herself, moving in time and even mouthing the same words, "…was actually _Kagami Togire_."

"Heh." A knowing sigh escaped from Izuru. "_Broken Mirror_."

The pair of Hinamoris continued. "Capable of creating a small illusion for upwards of a minute, this trick requires heavy concentration, making it hard to keep an image solid and realistic, especially in the middle of a fight. As such, it's fallen out of use aside from a sort of party favor. But as you could see, it served to hide the presence of Bakudō #38: _Omori no Zaika_. Mochizuki-san clearly failed to detect the spell coming at him, choosing to concentrate on the illusion of the imp around it. So when he slashed at his target, _Weight of Guilt_ bound his hands and head in a pillory and brought him to earth."

They were all enthralled by her explanation. This was another sensation Rukia had experience with. Whereas Kira had no impression of their fellow classmate in terms of her being an instructor, the other member of their little group was more than familiar with that aspect. Teaching a class, leading a division; really, they both amounted to the same thing. You had to earn peoples' respect either way, and in this world, the most effective way to do that was to prove to them your own superiority.

"Hinamori-fukutaichou certainly knows her way around kidō," Rukia spoke softly so as not to distract the students sitting before them.

"I've never met anyone of our age better," was Kira's response.

She glanced over at him. "She'll be glad to see you made it. Will you be staying for the whole session, Kira-fukutaichou?"

He gave a dispirited shrug. "It depends on how long it takes my captain to finish his business here."

At the mention of this, Rukia felt hot prickles in her neck and face. Attempting to affect an air of calm, she casually asked, "Ichimaru-taichou is here too?"

"We came to inspect some of the more promising recruits. He wanted to speak to their instructors afterwards, so he gave me leave time until he had concluded his meetings."

Paranoia made her dart a glance behind them to the massive gate leading into this practice yard. She had been half-expecting to see that frightful figure leaning up against it, watching her with his eager smile and air of cheerful malice. But there was nothing of the sort. All the same, she felt uncomfortable, and began to fidget. Her blonde neighbor noticed this and turned to her with a questioning look on his face. She fixed her eyesight firmly on what was taking place before them, and after a second, Kira left off his perusal to do the same.

I won't let him scare me away, Rukia told herself. Certainly not just at the sight of his shadow. I have as much right to be here as anyone. And more importantly, I want to be here! So this is where I will stay.

"Blending bindings and figuring out effective strategies for old enchantments is part of the role of the Kidō Corps," their lecturer made to inform her attendees. "They continue their education into the mystic arts long after graduating. A truly new spell only comes along maybe once every fifty years, but in between then, there is much research, trial and error, and surprises both good and bad to be found. Once you have earned the right to wear the robes of a shinigami, I hope this course will have fostered in you an interest for that division, so that you do not overlook it or think yourselves unfit for such a position."

By the way so many of them were staring at her with rapt and somewhat adoring attention, the Kuchiki clanswoman had a feeling that a lot of these kids would be trying out for the Fifth division regardless of what Momo said. Still, who knew? Something good might come of this regardless.

"Ah!"

The exclamation from Izuru drew her attention. A hell butterfly had alighted on his outstretched wrist, and it seemed by the look on his face the news was not good. Rising up, the lieutenant glanced down apologetically at her. "Sorry, Rukia-sama. It looks like the captain finished with them sooner than I expected. Would you let Hinamori know I was impressed with what I saw? Tell her I would have liked to stay for the whole thing."

"Of course." She smiled back at her one-time schoolmate. "It was good to see you again, Fukutaichou."

The lesser nobleman nodded back, his habitually melancholy expression lifting momentarily. Then he vaulted over the railing behind them and trotted off towards the exit.

Rukia went back to watching the officer's lecture. For the next ten minutes, she found herself reliving the experience of sitting in a classroom, observing an experienced elder explaining everything they would need to know once they had left behind their textbooks and taken up swords to continue the traditions upon which this academy was founded. There was a certain pang, to be sure. After all, her education, along with its regular challenges and minor victories, had been cut short by the arrival of the Kuchiki into her life. Not for the first time, she wondered what things would have been like had that day never happened. Most likely she would have gone on to graduate with the rest, but considering her grades in swordsmanship back then, perhaps a place in the Kidō Corps would have been more her fit than anywhere else. Certainly she had developed a style of swordplay since that allowed her to hold her own in combat practice, and even triumph more often than not. But as her time with Hinamori had proven, Rukia's natural instincts favored magic over blades. Even if the kidō masters had denied her entry, at the very least, there was always the Fourth, right?

While Momo was busy dividing up twelve volunteers into teams of three, a presence from behind got the attention of the other shinigami. Turning about, she saw that Izuru was back once more.

The realization that he was not alone made her heart sink with trepidation.

Gin Ichimaru was walking two steps before his adjutant, who had donned that same conflicted look he always seemed to wear nowadays. For his part, the head of their division looked the same as ever. Silver hair and relaxed gait combined with a sense of danger that let anyone with a brain realize this was not someone you wanted to trifle with.

As the duo approached, she saw him look up at her, and the smirk metamorphosed into a full-blown smile. Rukia shivered in response. Why did I have to act brave before? Why didn't I just obey my instincts and run at the first mention of him?

_He can't do anything to you here. There are two lieutenants and dozens of students to witness. Just cool it._

If he decided he wants to break my neck in front of all of them, nobody would say a word to stop him. Don't even try to deny it.

Sode no Shirayuki didn't. In the time that elapsed, both senior officers had made their way onto the field. A hush of wonderment fell over the students at the sight of the white robe. Even from all the way back here, Rukia could see how Momo visibly flinched when she caught sight of who was coming towards her.

They spoke together briefly, captain and lieutenant, his own subordinate hanging back with the crestfallen look of a man forced into a corner and seeing no way out.

Then the Fifth division's Second seat stood forward.

"Everyone," she called in a voice that did not quaver in the slightest, "I am pleased to introduce to you Captain Ichimaru Gin of Squad Three. At his request, the captain would like to take over these proceedings for a brief while. Please show him all due courtesy."

Silence descended on that field. The dozen potential assistants had retaken their seats at a sign from the instructor, and now only the two powerhouses stood at center stage.

Gin laced his hands behind his head and smiled at them. "So Momo here tells me y'all are thinking 'bout what you want to do with yourselves post-academic-wise."

No one even so much as coughed to confirm or deny this. Smart bunch, Rukia thought, while inwardly debating whether or not she could slip away before the situation got any worse.

"Well, I've got some interest in your futures myself. After all, one day some of you might make your way over to my neck of the woods and join the Third. Each division loses a few hands every month, doesn't matter how we try to keep 'em alive. That means there's always new spots opening up for bright, eager young recruits like you all." He spoke so lightly one could almost believe his purpose here was entirely innocent, but there was no denying he had just casually informed them that the path they were walking on could end in a bloody death one day. There was some shifting and rustling among the academy attendees, but still no one spoke.

"And that's the reason I thought I'd stop by here and give you a few pointers when it comes to kidō. After all, what you learn in these walls today might very well save your life, as I'm sure the teachers are still fond of pointing out to ya."

Yeah, assuming what they took from this was the firm conviction to keep as far away from _you_ as they possibly could.

"And with that in mind…"

She found herself unconsciously inching off to one side of the stands.

"I'm gonna ask for a volunteer down here."

Rukia froze. Please don't let this be going where I think it is.

"Kuchiki-chan!"

Stiffly, she bade her neck muscles to turn and look down. Gin had thrust out an arm and was clearly beckoning her to join him. Every eye in the arena was now trained on her, and for a moment the harried young woman feared she might disgrace herself by bolting from there like a rabbit. Instead Rukia was surprised to find herself rising and descending down towards where her tormentor waited. Passing where Momo sat, she could not bear to look her in the eye, as it might be considered a sign of weakness. Therefore she missed the promise of aid that sparkled in those fierce brown depths.

Coming to stand beside him, the tiny death god attempted to put on a brave face. Her gaze was directed out at the crowd of students, but she kept aware of any movements Ichimaru made on the edge of her vision.

"Everybody, I'd like y'all to say hello to Kuchiki-chan. She's gonna be my helper fer the rest of the performance."

Even if that could be considered a command from a first-rank officer, no one seemed willing to make any sort of noise. They were all watching this scene with a disturbingly similar feel to the bullying from before. Mercy, it was like they were scenting her blood already!

I don't want to be here anymore.

"But not just her. Somebody else is gonna have to bite the bullet and step up as well. Anybody care to volunteer? Not you, Lieutenant Hinamori," he said as Momo began to rise. "I'm lookin' fer a soul who's gonna take a lesson away from all this."

All watched as Gin's head moved from side to side, a cobra dancing before its prey. It was hypnotic, in a morbid sort of way. Wondering on whom his eye was going to fall, and whether or not he would strike.

"You."

The white-draped arm thrust out, fixating on a cadet sitting with some others who had been doing the teasing earlier. The husky youth flinched but came immediately to his feet and snapped down in a bow.

"I would be honored to assist you, Captain Ichimaru! I am Shouta Kouganta!"

"Sure you are. Now get down here quick, you're holding up the show."

Some fumbling and elbowing through the stands later, the somewhat sick-looking student was standing beside his superiors on the stage.

"Now," the ringmaster of this performance addressed his enraptured audience. "I hear you're learning to be creative with kidō. That's a fun little hobby to take part in," he nodded to Hinamori, who sat up a little straighter in response to this potential slight, "but I don't want the buncha you to lose sight of what's really important when it comes to castin' spells. Namely, control. Some folks got it, others don't. Control of yourself equals confidence in battle, and lemme tell you right now, I'd rather have somebody who knows themselves down to a tee beside me in a fight rather than some overblown powerhouse with reiatsu spillin' out of his ears."

There was some shifting in the seats, but still, no comments. Off to one side, it appeared that Lieutenant Kira was slightly disturbed, perhaps thinking he was the target of that jibe. But he was mistaken in that respect, Rukia found, as Gin stepped quickly over and stood behind her.

I knew it. He was always after me.

Holding stock-still, Kuchiki strove to suppress her misgivings about this situation. But when long tapered fingers came up and cupped beneath her chin, it took every drop of her willpower to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs.

There was a crackle of energy, and something glowed beneath her eyes.

"Don't look down, Kuchiki-chan."

She hadn't even realized she was about to, but the command preempted her instinctive move. Absently, a thought occurred to her: why is he calling me by my last name? Always before he just calls me 'Rukia-chan'. Was he trying to get people to recognize her as a noblewoman for some reason?

"Everybody see the ring around Kuchiki-chan's throat?"

Several heads nodded, hers not among them. Instead the frightened maiden's eyes sought out Momo, whose face bore a look of slow-building wrath. The lieutenant's lips were moving slightly, perhaps incanting a spell in preparation for anything this monster had planned. Whatever it is, sensei, please make it count.

"Watch this, now." There was a hum, and heat flared beneath her chin. "See, I just made it go smaller! Did you catch that? It was pretty fast." Another flash. "Even smaller still! In case you're wondering, yes, this disc is pretty sharp. So much, in fact, if'n I don't do anything before the next move, she'll be getting herself a bit of a haircut. We don't wanna see that, so hold still, Kuchiki-chan."

As he said this, she felt his hands detach from her neck (_Yes!_), and the next instant they were twining into the hair at the base of her skull (_no_…). Rigid with fear, Rukia could not resist as her personal demon ran his fingers teasingly through her gossamer black tresses, before lifting the fall of it up away from her skin.

"There." This was followed by another brief spurt, and her throat tightened at the sudden proximity of lethal magic. "Now, Kuchiki-chan can't see it, but she can sure feel that band hovering right up against her flesh. My control's good enough that I can not only precisely affect the intensity of the spell…" it blazed hotter, and she closed her eyes in anticipation of what was bound to come next, "…but also how close it comes to its target. No offense to all the bright-eyed youngsters, but if I had asked any of you to try this, I'm afraid our little lady here would be missing a head."

A popping noise came then, and Rukia sucked in air through her nose. He did it, he cut off my…! But no. The threat was gone, she could no longer feel its presence about her throat. Reaching up, the shaken shinigami laid a hand against her neck. There was no blood, only a lingering sense of something prickling. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see that unmistakable leer.

"Good job," he said, and gave her arm a firm squeeze that was just below the pain threshold. Gin then turned his head to regard the witnesses to this display. "Now don't y'all go getting discouraged over the difference between us. I'm not here to shoot down any of yer dreams, no sirree! Control isn't like reiatsu, you can actually work to build it up to something really impressive. Anybody can do it, no matter how weak or strong they may be! To show I'm not lying, our little helper here's gonna chime in."

Is… he referring to me?

As if to answer her question, that facetious voice boomed out suddenly. "Kouganta-san!"

Standing forgotten off to one side, the other assistant jerked to attention once more. "Yes, Taichou!"

Gin brought a fist up to his mouth for a few seconds, then opened it suddenly. "Catch!"

Something flew between them, and Kouganta reached up, snatching it out of the air and gazing on it in perplexity.

"Hold that up for all to see, kiddo."

He obeyed, and it quickly became apparent that what he had in his hand was a small coin.

"Hold it between your thumb and forefinger."

Uncertain but not daring to question, Shouta did so.

"Now don't move."

The grip on her shoulder then dragged Rukia along until she was facing in the direction of her fellow victim. Their eyes met, seeing something similar in their expressions, but before anything could come from this, Ichimaru was speaking again.

"You're gonna see another demonstration of control here. I'm sure all'o you bushy-tailed beavers are familiar with Hadō #4: White Lightning."

Some uneasy nods and muttering followed. Across from her, Kouganta had gone pale, for he clearly had a good idea of where this was heading.

"That's good. Now, to help give us all an idea of how fine a control one can achieve, Kuchiki-chan here's gonna use that spell to shoot the coin out from between Shouta-san's fingers."

Hinamori Momo came to her feet, no longer appearing in any way cute or precious. She looked more like a tiger defending her cubs. "Ichimaru-taichou, this is not something I can just…"

"Simmer down, Momo-fukutaichou," the captain clucked, disregarding her fury. "Wha's the problem? You trained her, right? Don'tcha have any faith in your student? Or yourself as a teacher?"

Held fast in his clutch, Rukia found herself praying that the answer was 'No'. Please, Hinamori-sensei, stop this. Tell him I'm no good, tell them all, I don't care what you say or if it's true. Lie if you have to! Just _stop this!_ Because I…

"Yes. I do."

"Good to hear. No interfering, now. I'll know if you do."

…can't.

Caught in this horrific situation, Kuchiki Rukia tried desperately to think of a way out. But nothing presented itself. If I refuse or miss intentionally, he'll just get someone else to do it, probably one of the other students. I know he will. And there's no way they could do this without blasting off the kid's fingers. So, then, there's really only one option left for me. Because I…

"Take aim, Kuchiki-chan."

…can.

She did so, arm raising to shoulder level and fingers extending. At some point in the last few seconds, a different feeling had settled over her, supplanting the quivering heart-squeezing dread of only moments past. The unseated death god was feeling somewhat detached, but not unfocused. Instead her whole attention was narrowing down to one spot. It was like all the color was draining out of her surroundings, leaving only the hapless target staring at her with a plea in his eyes. We're neither of us able to run away, Kouganta-san. We just have to trust one another, the same way all shinigami must when they're out in the field fighting Hollows and risking their lives. What you're feeling right now is the same thing I did, years ago back in Hollow Bog, when I had to put my faith and my future in the hands of someone I didn't even know. He never let me down, and I swear I will do the same for you.

"When ya just concentrate on blowing some guy's head off, you don't even stop to think about how much force you're puttin' behind it. But in a situation where, say, there's a Hollow who's taken a hostage, precise control and pinpoint accuracy might be the only thing standing between that poor helpless soul and a really nasty death. So Kuchiki-chan's got to exercise that same level of concentration and willpower you're gonna have to develop if you want to stand out."

Both of his hands were on her shoulders now, but for once Rukia couldn't be bothered to notice that. Even when his mouth came down to tickle her ear with his breath, all she could see was the small glistening object held in a trembling fist. Curse it, can't you stay still? This is hard enough as it is. There was perhaps five meters of space between them. From this distance her target might as well have been an individual hair on Shouta's head.

The whisper that came from Ichimaru's lips was so soft only she could hear it. "Now, Rukia-chan, as further demonstration of yer prowess, I want you to say the spell, but hold back from the attack for a few seconds. Give 'em a little suspense to chew on, eh?"

I'm not a student falling behind the pack anymore. We're way beyond such things. I can do this. Kidō is where I've always excelled, even before Momo took me under her wing. I won't prove unworthy of all the effort she's put into me.

"Take a deep breath, and say the words."

The spell-caster inhaled. No incantation. Hold back as much as you can. You're not trying to destroy it, just think about knocking a pinecone off a tree.

"Hadō #4," her voice was firm and steady, betraying no doubts, "_Byakurai_."

In response to the cantrip, pale energy danced over her skin and collected at the tips of her fingers. Less, she commanded. At her prompting, the blossoming ball receded 'til it was only a small flickering nub. Good. That's it. Now, hold it.

"Close your eyes, Rukia-chan. Shoot when I tell ya to open them."

She didn't even think to refuse. All of Rukia's concentration was bent upon manipulating her reiatsu and keeping her attention locked on the goal. There was no more room in her head to question anything but achieving it. Even when her lids were shut, she could picture the image of the man standing away from her, every detail recorded, all of it reserved for her use. I won't miss. You don't have to be afraid, I've got you safe.

Keep steady, hold your focus, maintain control.

"Now!"

Her eyes came open, only a split-second of hesitation to confirm her target before she let go of the spell.

But in that moment, she saw…

The person standing across from her wasn't Shouta Kouganta.

It was Gin.

And he was coming straight at her.

What came next was never clear in her mind. All she knew was a panicked instant of danger, and right then, her natural reiatsu flared in response.

A white beam shot across the green sward of grass, and there was a shriek.

Rukia gaped in disbelief. Before her eyes, that smiling vision disappeared, revealing behind it Shouta clutching his hand, staring at the glistening stumps where his finger and thumb had been.

"My… h-hand… you stupid… little _bitch! Look…!"_ And he held it up for her to see. _"LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO ME!"_

The maimed academic crumpled to his knees, panting and gasping in a high, wheezing tone that grew more shrill with every moment. It was like his throat was growing tighter and tighter, and when he threw back his head and tried to scream out loud, all that emerged was a choked hiss.

Several things happened at once. The people in the stands all either screamed or leapt up, but it was Momo who got there first, landing before her charge and grabbing his shoulders. Shouta snarled and spit full in her face, but she didn't let go, only continued to stare deeply into those pain-maddened eyes. Magic pulsed out softly in a white haze around them, and the look of agony he gave her dispelled into blank incomprehension. His body slackened, breath now coming without any effort. As this was occurring, Izuru knelt down beside them, a cloth emerging from his sleeve and wrapping swiftly around the student's hand. With it there came another spell, one designed for healing and recuperation.

As the lieutenants attended to the wounded man, Rukia continued to stare, chilled by what had just took place.

Did I do that? Can't be, I had control. Everything was going just fine, until he…

He tricked me.

"Siddown, everybody!"

The voice of their master caused all the formerly panicky students to freeze. When he continued to regard them, that weird unfriendly smile never leaving his face, they all slowly began to retake their seats.

"Now do ya see what I mean about control?" He took Rukia's unresisting frame in the crook of one arm and turned her to face the crowd. "Before I threw that coin to him, I put a sleeping kidō spell on it. One I heard you just got acquainted with. Did anybody recognize _Kagami Togire_, the _Broken Mirror?_ One of the benefits o' using sleeping kidō spells you might've read about is that you can exercise some control over when they emerge. Like inscribing the proper glyphs onto something that you can then activate by touch or even sound. That's not what happened here, though. I had to concentrate real hard to bring it out just when I wanted and keep it steady. That's what it means when I talk about pinpoint control. I bet you all got a real good look at it, though, just like Kuchiki-chan here. Are ya suitably impressed?"

The mass of shocked silent faces being directed towards him seemed to be the only adulation Ichimaru needed.

"Well, I can tell you're all just a bit blown away by what we captains can accomplish. That's enough fer one day. Maybe next week I'll stop by too! Ya gotta keep abreast of what the children learn nowadays."

He then let go of her and paced over to where his subordinate was continuing resuscitation. Izuru looked up, his eyes wide with hurt and disbelief. "Taichou… why…"

"C'mon, Kira, we're leavin'." His captain adjusted his robes while grinning merrily. "Momo-chan's got everything under control, leave her to clean up the lady's mess."

The look Hinamori sent him was filled with so much hate it would have killed a lesser man. As for her partner, it looked like Izuru might actually say something to this. But as he stared at his commander, all emotion seemed to leech away from him, leaving his face stiff and wooden. Without a word, the swordsman rose and followed the lunatic as he withdrew from that once peaceful glade.

Rukia recovered somewhat at his passing, enough to trod numbly over to where Hinamori sat. Shouta appeared to have lapsed into unconsciousness. Upon noticing her comrade's arrival, the diminutive enchantress stood up. They looked at one another. Before the eyes of all, Momo then reached over and laid a hand on Kuchiki's arm.

"This isn't your fault, Rukia-san. Believe me, you are not to blame for this. It was all him. You understand that, right?"

The noblewoman nodded, and her teacher then went over to try and console her frightened flock. Watching this, Rukia couldn't help but notice the accusing glances that were being directed her way.

You're the one who doesn't understand, Hinamori-san.

I _am_ to blame for this. I shouldn't have stayed. If I hadn't been here, he wouldn't have done that. I'm responsible for all of this.

_Stop talking crazy, would you? This was completely random, just him having sick thrills with a bunch of students. Your being here had nothing to do with it. _

Don't lie to try and protect me. You know this wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last. He'll keep doing things like this, because of me, and I don't even know why he does it. He's just like Byakuya. They both… _want_ something from me, and neither of them lets me know what.

_I won't let either of them hurt you. Do you believe that? Please tell me you believe me when I promise I'll protect you._

Thank you.

And Rukia walked away from that field of failure.

But one of them _will_ kill me. We'll just have to wait and see which.

She did not return for the next lecture, but hardly anyone else showed up either. Lieutenant Hinamori had to discontinue her series, and it was only due to the calming intervention of her own captain that she did not try to confront his former lieutenant and harshly redress him over this affair.

No investigation of this ever took place. Rukia learned that her people had intervened with the academy and Shouta's family, who were minor nobility. As a result, her involvement in the affair was quietly hushed up. Officially, at least. That almost made it worse, though, because gossip travels with the speed of shunpō in Soul Society. Although for once, it turned out it didn't get very far. The rumor mill never seemed to gather much steam where she was concerned. Perhaps someone important in that shadowy chain of informants was looking out for her. Whoever it might be, Rukia could take no pleasure at the thought of all the people covering up for her inadequacies.

Kouganta Shouta was deemed unable to continue his studies and was forced to drop out. He returned to his family in Seireitei, and was found hanging dead in his room several days afterwards. For this, too, there was no investigation.

* * *

Zangetsu throbbed in his hand. Before them, the exit from this tiny pocket dimension was approaching fast, and Ichigo steeled himself for the worst. Regardless of Unohana's exhortations as to the true strength of the Gotei 13's captains, he had experienced the untrammeled power of just one of the higher-ranked _Espada_. It had been enough to defeat him, if not dissuade him. Somehow, though, he doubted stern stoicism would be enough to come out on top against those other three hell-spawn.

The portal loomed large before them. The captain and her lieutenant both stood with swords drawn, prepared for whatever they might find. Neither of them looked to be the slightest bit intimidated. But then, they hadn't faced what he had. Kurosaki tried to tell himself that it was excitement making his heart trip so fast, but knew that was not truly the case. If Ulquiorra had a state reminiscent of bankai, that probably meant the others did too. Fighting the lord of vampires once again was something he was determined to do, but if the rest of them ganged up on him, his already unlovely chances went from slim to imaginary.

_Don't forget, you have allies this time. There is no need to try and take them all on by yourself._

Yeah. But the thought of my friends going up against those monsters is what really scares me, you know?

_What was it Unohana said to you, about being a hero in a manga?_

What about it?

_Unless I'm mistaken, in those media, the hero's allies often clear the way for him to face the ultimate monster. _

Are you trying to cheer me up? This isn't a story.

_All life is a story, in truth. And all of them end the same way. _

Still not feeling the cheer here.

_Then look at it this way. Let today be the day that your enemy's stories end. Aizen, the Espada, all of them. Be the pen that will write their terminus._

Hey. That's pretty good. You oughtta write that down, old man.

At this point, there was a low roaring. Retsu turned to regard him.

"We are going through," she announced calmly.

Ichigo nodded in response, feeling a shiver run up his spine. It was eerily familiar, like the time they crashed through into Soul Society, not knowing what they were going to find. Everyone, please be alive. Orihime, hold out for me, I swear I'll save you this time. It's all going to end today.

The light was all around them, leaving the trio sharply delineated by it. They could feel the resistance growing thin ahead of them, like a flimsy glass barrier about to break.

Without warning the light fragmented, leaving nothing but embers drifting down into total and complete darkness.

"Huh?" Ichigo gaped, peering about. "Did we just experience technical difficulties or someth…?"

A deep vibrating thrum, a moan, and then he was shoved roughly forward, crashing through the wall between worlds to find himself blinking in the blue sky of his home dimension.

After days in the disturbing ambience of Hueco Mundo, Earth's spiritual atmosphere seemed paltry and off by comparison. He hadn't remembered experiencing any such distinction after returning from Soul Society, but that was something to think about later. Right now he had to concentrate on…

Ichigo blinked.

What?

He looked around, up, down, side to side.

Where…?

"Ichigo!"

Turning, he saw Rukia and her party a short ways behind him. They were for the most part wearing the same looks of stricken disbelief that he suspected was now adorning his own features. All regarded what lay before them.

As far as they could see, the regular layout of Karakura Town lay virtually undisturbed. However, there were a few noticeable eyesores. Small patches of devastation existed, like flaws in a painting. Tumbled buildings, craters and strips of crushed earth. Taken on its whole, though, there was nothing like the apocalyptic scenario many had been expecting. Birds flew through the sky, the sun was shining down. It was quite idyllic, really.

Kurosaki peered off into the distance. Rising at equidistant points around their perimeter, there were four tremendous columns, one of which appeared to have been smashed. However, in spite of this, the lack of any people below let him know that this was indeed the reishi-facsimile of Karakura he had been informed was transplanted with his own native soil. But even if that was not the case, the relative harmony of the scene told him that the dreaded obliteration which would have resulted from Aizen's successfully crafting a Royal Key had not occurred.

So then, the only question that remained…

"The hell?" Kenpachi bellowed, swinging his head around and causing a sound like wind chimes to fill their ears. "What gives? Where is everybody?"

The bloodthirsty fighter was not mistaken. No captains, living or dead. No _Espada_, in the same condition. Not a single soul to be seen or…

"Perhaps I can explain."

Felt.

All then turned to see Kisuke Urahara approaching them, walking on air with his cane over one shoulder and Tessai Tsukabishi at his back. The pair of spiritual refugees appeared to be unharmed and, at least in Urahara's case, unusually somber.

"I'm sure you're just a touch disappointed to find things as they are now." Glinting gray eyes moved to study Ichigo in particular, who was seized by the sudden and inexplicable feeling that he had done something wrong. Now feeling somewhat silly standing there with blade bared and apparently no one to use it on, he fell to simply blinking miserably, the very picture of confusion. Kisuke continued without bothering to comment on that. "Well, if you really must know, what happened was this…"

* * *

_Hyōrinmaru clashed repeatedly with the tremendous shark-tooth blade of Tiburón, and Captain Hitsugaya sized up his female opponent carefully. Able to control water, much like himself, she fought with cold, icy calculation, in a manner that he found uncomfortably similar to his own. He got the feeling that this creature, Tia Harribel, had been conditioned specifically to defeat him. _

_But all such apprehension vanished as her next attack came, and he was lost in the rush of battle._

* * *

_Soifon had to admit she was intimidated. In spite of his appearance, the Hollow Emperor, Barragan Luisenbarn, had proven himself to possess levels of speed that equaled her own, if not outright surpassed. In addition, he seemed more like a god of death himself, capable of destroying everyone and everything around him with only the merest flick of his power. There was a certain grim finality in his one-eyed gaze that made her think of an executioner, someone tasked much as she was with the extermination of life. _

_The captain of the Onmitsukidō leveled her deadly implement at him, and he responded with his own barbaric war axe. Each weapon held the very spirit of death in its touch. And both seemed more than willing to employ it._

* * *

_Kyōraku couldn't shake the impression that he was fighting a mirror version of himself, as if seen through a glass darkly._

_Coyote Stark was lazy and pacifistic, preferring to avoid conflict in a way that most Hollows could not be counted upon. He was the most powerful of the three Espada present, but he didn't seem too interested in proving it. His attitude was that of a man who had just been woken from a sound sleep and wished for nothing more than to return to it without being bothered by the world. It was almost insulting, really, and Shunsui couldn't help but wonder if this figure was secretly laughing at him. Like a comic miming the performance he had spent centuries perfecting to showcase for any audience he might come across. _

_As their weapons clashed, he could swear he heard someone laughing at him._

* * *

_Sōsuke Aizen was laughing, at least on the inside._

_He paid close attention to the battle happening beyond the walls of his fiery prison. A bit hot for his liking, but he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Things could not have worked out any better if he had planned it this way. He concentrated on his task, taking a tremendous amount of delight out of the careful orchestration of temperaments and qualities that he had practiced so hard to achieve._

_As he did, a wristband on Kaname's arm began to vibrate. _

_Removing it and placing it to his ear, the sightless samurai listened intently._

_Then he said one word._

"_Understood."_

_As his underling flicked off the device, Sōsuke opened his eyes and said, "I take it we are ready?"_

"_Yes, Aizen-sama."_

"_Very well. Tell them they may drop the Wyrm Sombras now." As Tosen complied, his master ran a hand through his hair, sighing somewhat despondently. "And here I was really getting into the performance."_

_**All good things, my dearest.**_

_Yes. You have it right._

"_Shatter, Kyōka Suigetsu."_

* * *

_With a cry, Tōshirō brought his weapon straight down at Harribel's head. She raised her weapon to intervene._

_The soul cutter passed right through it and clove her in half._

_Startled at this sudden victory, the shinigami stared in disbelief. Before his eyes, the Hollow's body began to disintegrate._

_That had been almost too easy._

"_CAPTAIN!"_

_He glanced over. It was not his own lieutenant calling him. Matsumoto still remained critically wounded at the hands of that composite beast the Commander-General had dispatched. Rather it was Hinamori Momo whose cry had gotten his attention. Looking over, he saw the stricken pixie pointing skywards._

_Following his gaze, he was even further dumbfounded to see Soifon's opponent collapsing into nothingness. By the look on the shinobi's face, he was not alone in this regard. _

_A horrible premonition grew in his stomach. It was familiar. So horribly familiar. Almost afraid of what he might see, he sought out Captain Kyōraku engaged in his own life-or-death struggle. His heart sank when he observed the pink-clad combatant standing speechless, finding himself suddenly robbed of an opponent._

_The Espada had disappeared._

_And Hitsugaya knew why._

"_AIZEN!"_

_Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni's roar drowned out any and all other noise. The elderly warrior's eyes were fully open, a noteworthy feat in and of itself. He swept his zanpakutō through the air, and the blazing confinement that held his three errant soldiers dissipated in a heartbeat, the incredible conflagration blown out by its master like a birthday candle._

_Now revealed for all to see, the traitor-king of Hueco Mundo dusted off his immaculate robe and looked about with keen interest._

"_Well," he remarked smartly, "Did you all enjoy my performance? I trust you didn't overexert yourselves. After all, it was only yourselves that you were fighting."_

_Hitsugaya stared, thinking back upon everything he had seen since this war had officially commenced. So similar. Tia Harribel. She had been so unbelievably similar to him! At the time, it hadn't really registered, but now, even her hair and the color of her eyes stood out suddenly as being something that hadn't seemed quite original._

_Glancing down, he observed Rangiku still lying wounded under Izuru's care, and the bodies of the lesser Hollows that had fallen before their prized fighter's blades. None of that had altered._

_Only what happened afterwards._

_The full truth of what they faced descended on him like a headsman's axe._

"_An illusion," he whispered, feeling hot and sick with shame. Again. He had fallen for it again! Goddammit, he did it to me AGAIN!_

"_AAAAAHHHHHH!"_

_His scream caused Aizen to turn his head, a look of self-satisfied amusement written up and down his face. Tosen too flicked an ear and turned to regard the howling boy captain. Both of them now observed his childish explosion of rage._

_Both of them._

"_Where…?"_

_Kira squinted his eyes and rubbed them fiercely, then looked again. No, his vision hadn't been deceiving him. It was absolutely undeniable._

"_Where's Captain Ichimaru?"_

_At that moment, Aizen turned and looked directly at him, and the lieutenant blanched under the weight of that friendly gaze._

"_Pardon? You say you're looking for Gin?" He glanced over one shoulder, tapping a finger thoughtfully against the handle of his newly-reconstituted sword. "Ah, yes. That's right. I neglected to mention something. Unfortunately, Ichimaru was unable to join us here today. But since I know how so many of you harbor deep feelings towards him, I made sure to have a stand-in present, so as not to disappoint. By now, I imagine that he and the Espada you thought you were fighting have gone on ahead to achieve their true objective."_

_The aspiring god turned back about, and his handsome face was lit by the most unhealthy expression of charming disdain anyone could ever make as he looked directly at the quivering old head of the Seireitei._

"_I sent them to Soul Society along with the rest of my forces before deigning to grace this tedious display of arrogant grandstanding with my presence. Come now, Commander Yamamoto, did you really expect a war to be fought with just a handful of blades? That was very foolish of you."_

"_You…" And the super-powered ancient growled as he bared his soul cutter once more, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth, he was so enraged. "Young pup… arrogant… sinful! I will…!"_

"_EMERGENCY!"_

_Hitsugaya blinked. A voice he recognized as belonging to Lieutenant Ise Nanao resonated in his ears with the pure clarity of kidō magic._

"_THIS IS HOME BASE, CONTACTING THE CAPTAINS! AN ARMY OF HOLLOWS HAS SUDDENLY APPEARED BEYOND THE EDGE OF THE RUKONGAI! WE ARE COMPLETELY SURROUNDED! SOUL SOCIETY IS INVADED! DO YOU READ ME? SOUL SOCIETY IS INVADED!"_

_All the shinigami present turned to stare at Yamamoto._

_The old man's face had once more lapsed into a picture of professional dispassion. Only the sight of both eyes still being opened a crack let them know that he had not missed the import of that communication. There was no sign of the previous rage or humiliation he must certainly be feeling at this moment when he opened his mouth and said, "Return to Soul Society immediately."_

_They did not question, only obeyed. Nothing they thought themselves capable of accomplishing here was worth doing, considering what might happen if they did not return. All present knew where the true strength of the Gotei 13 lay. _

_Especially Aizen._

_As the death gods took up their wounded and opened their respective Senkaimon, he waved pleasantly. "Thank you all for coming today. It was fun!" _

_There was no response, and soon he found himself alone with Tosen once more._

"_Well," the revolutionary sighed, "I suppose we should get going as well."_

* * *

"Oh my god," Ishida muttered.

"I'm afraid so," Urahara stated tightly. "Things have just gone from bad to worse. Time is running out. We need to get you all home."

Rukia had come to stand beside Ichigo, who was trembling with horror at that recitation. Her hand came up and touched his arm. The shivers that went through him transmitted over to her, and their shared discomfort did nothing to grant them peace. Standing in the defunct set for a grand heroic play that had turned out to be no more than a farce, they strove together to find some glimmer of that most elusive and necessary human emotion.

Hope.

* * *

Atop Sokyōku Hill, mere minutes after she had been saved from execution, Rukia Kuchiki found herself about to be slain once more, facing Captain Aizen as he ordered his servant Ichimaru to kill her.

"No way to avoid it, I guess."

Her killer gave his assent, and the helpless sacrifice barely had the strength to turn her head and look over at Ichigo, lying half-dead on the ground, before she heard it coming.

"Shoot, Shinsō!"

An instant later she was safe in her brother's arms, as he took the blade intended for her heart. Rukia had stared into Byakuya's blood-spattered visage as though he were a stranger then.

Aizen. Ichigo. Byakuya. She had seen all their faces.

But not Gin's.

Had she bothered to do so, it might have surprised her to find that he wasn't smiling.

Not even a little.

_To be continued…_


	23. Fox's Prey: Happenings in the Two Towns

The sky. That's what's wrong about this place. I'm sure of it.

Kunieda Ryō stood in the middle of the street, staring up at the heavens. For once her nose was not buried in a book as was her wont. Instead the dark-haired high-schooler continued to ponder the vexing mystery that had presented itself to her.

Namely, where am I, and what am I doing here?

She cast a penetrating look at her surroundings once more. It seemed familiar. Real, even. If she reached down and touched the pavement, it was warm and rough, so this wasn't a dream she was in. It had never piqued Kunieda's interest to research the science of dreams, since she hardly ever remembered her own. But right now would have been a good time to at least have an option to fall back on.

For the first time she could remember, the solitary young woman found herself missing the company of her classmates. It would be nice to have another person handy to verify the same things she was experiencing, but that proved not to be the case. Ever since coming down from her room to find her house deserted, her parents and siblings missing, she had been attempting to contact someone. But nobody she called was picking up their phone. Going next door to inquire about this had also yielded no results, as her neighbors all appeared to have vanished without a trace. Absolutely nothing was making any sense.

As it was, the long-limbed student made her way down the lane, examining everything she could find in search of a clue to guide her. There were no hidden marks she could see that would reveal this to be a trap or trick of some kind. It was her neighborhood in Karakura Town down to a tee. Not a single stone out of place. Only when she looked upward did she get the feeling of some kind of vague apprehension. A few times in her life when coming out of a building into an area with an unobstructed view of the sky, Ryō had experienced a sensation that those blue depths were wider or closer somehow. It was just a matter of relativity and misfiring optic nerves, she knew, but that same feeling seemed to be striking her every single time she craned her neck up. Enough to decide not to do that anymore. Instead, she concentrated on the ground. That was something she could at least trust to remain solid and unmoving.

Moving forward, Ryō's foot jerked back as she felt the earth quake.

That wasn't a hallucination, the lanky track star thought, finding her heart-rate to be going much faster than it had a moment before. I'm positive that I felt something that was quantifiable. Don't panic, no need to get irrational.

Unfortunately, between one second and the next, rationality was shot down, as before her eyes, a dragon emerged out of the pavement.

Kunieda stood frozen at an intersection of two lanes, watching this happen. A long reptilian neck, the size of a city bus, emerged from the street perpendicular to hers as though rising out of a puddle. The shock of this situation led her to experience a strange sense of heightened awareness. It dawned on her then that this creature was somewhat transparent, wavering in and out of her vision. The form resembled something more like a giant eel than anything else, with aquamarine scales and a mouth filled with serrated shark's teeth. Its eyes were glistening black, and for a brief instant she caught a reflection of herself standing unmoving there, before it moved on by her position. There was no relief at this, for immediately afterwards the thing was joined by several others that drove questing through the concrete without hindrance or mark of their passing. They made no sound, and neither did she.

Not even when the wolf pack came up behind them.

Perhaps not wolves, she decided upon a moment's reflection. Lions, maybe? Hard to tell with only their heads being visible, all clumped together like that, still somewhat see-through just like the eels. Wait, there's more. Something bigger, rising out of them. Tall. Brown. A tree? No, I see, it's…

A woman.

Titan. Giantess. Ogress. Several different words that might suit what her disbelieving eyes were telling her had just lifted up from the street as though swimming through it. But no mere vocabulary test could help the misfiring impulses in her brain which told the stricken teen that she was looking at the enormous torso of a human female whose head reached well over the level of the rooftops around her.

The entity's skin was a rich tan shade that her own people could never affect no matter how long they stayed out in the sun. It was completely nude, though seeming to boast odd pearlescent lines or scales that drew patterns across its torso. This state of undress allowed Kunieda to have an unobstructed view of a pair of breasts that would have put her classmate Orihime to shame. And on top of that the face could have belonged to a heavenly deity, specifically a goddess of the hunt. It possessed a sort of lean feminine perfection, with wild yellow hair and startling emerald eyes, beautiful as a lightning storm coming in off the sea. And just as dangerous. The face held no compassion whatsoever. It was inexpressibly enchanting in an alien sort of way, but on top of the fact that Kunieda was not of any inclination to prefer women like her classmate Chizuru (she leaned towards muscular men of the Latino persuasion), the hungry ferocity in the curve of those lips was undeniable. That mouth was not made to be kissed, but more to sink its teeth into the flesh of anything it came across and devour it whole. A strange twisted cape of interlocking bone shafts extended out behind the monstrous female's back, visible as it continued to move along its way.

Dragon-eels. Wolf-lions. Gargantuan demoness. Looking at them all now, she realized that they were one single conjoined being. Strangely, the mixture seemed familiar to her. Didn't I read something about this once? I really wish I had brought my cell phone with me, I could do a search and find…

And then it stopped moving.

The profile of that angel of death remained turned away from her, but Kunieda had the distinct feeling this would not last long. She felt a giggle building up, and strove to fight it down.

I've gone insane, the normally level-headed introvert finally decided. Or I'm undergoing a religious experience of some kind. I should fall to my knees and worship. Wait, worship that thing? Forget it, my instincts are screaming at me that I'm in danger, I should just listen to them and run.

Obeying that remarkably lucid decision, the all-star athlete's ankles tensed to make her escape from this emblem of chaotic majesty.

She was just on the cusp of doing so, when a thought rose unbidden from the recesses of her mind.

'_You must never run from anything immortal.'_

That was a quote, wasn't it? From something I read. So familiar. I think there's more to it, though. What was it? Come on, think. This could be important. More than any test you ever studied for or meet you ever practiced to win. You know this, you're sharp, everybody says so. _'Never run from an immortal. Never run from an immortal, it…'_ What? It _what?_ Use your head, Kunieda!

The movement of one of the snake heads attracted her eye.

'…_it attracts…'_

She blinked.

'…_their attention…'_

'_You must never run from anything immortal. It attracts their attention.'_

Turning her back on the creature before her, Ryō began to calmly walk away.

After a few paces, when nothing happened to distract her, the memory hit full force. That was a line from one of her favorite books as a child, dealing with magic and princes, failed wizards, drunken skeletons, and a deeply disturbed king who commanded a terrible red bull that obeyed him because he alone could behold it without fear.

And unicorns.

It felt absurd to be thinking this right now. She had long outgrown the period of her life when she believed in magical horses of superlative beauty that responded only to a virgin girl's touch. That was all stuff and nonsense, right?

But then again, I just saw for myself that monsters are real. So maybe if I keep going, I'll find a unicorn.

Ryō found herself smiling at the thought. And crying too. Doing both at the same time didn't strike her as odd. She just kept right on walking, as her old friend in the story had told her to.

There came a sound from off to her left, and an arm wrapped around her waist. Turning, the nigh-hysterical girl caught a glimpse of something she couldn't quite comprehend. Obeying her instincts once more, she opened her mouth to scream.

Then the world blurred around her.

Tia Harribel turned her head, considering. The _vasto lorde's _merciless sea-green eyes raked her environs for a sign of whatever might have disturbed her, the serpent attachments following suit. But there was nothing. Not even a taste on her tongue. No surprise, really. The air was so thick here, it was confounding her senses slightly. What should have been a pleasant experience was actually somewhat overwhelming, long used as she was to parsimony in her environment.

No matter, she thought. It makes no difference. I should just continue to explore until Aizen gives the word to reveal ourselves.

So resolved, the scylla sank back below the ground and swam on.

* * *

He walked beneath sun-drenched boughs, in a cloak made from the shadows of the dead, trying to find the right words to describe this new world.

It looked, behaved… _seemed_ similar to that muddied, dissolute, hectic dimension an inordinate amount of his enemies seemed to hail from. But still, this was different. The scent was so much richer by comparison, almost dizzying with its lush potency. Could it be that this plane was welcoming him into its warm embrace already, without so much as a bit of effort on his part?

It felt strange to find the realm he had come to conquer so hospitable.

Reaching up, Grimmjow plucked a leaf off a tree, rubbing it between his fingers. The Hollow could feel silky smooth spirit particles against his skin. Breathing deeply, he savored the sensation of not being short of breath as he had always been in the mortal world, where there was enough reiatsu to stand on but not to adequately nourish him. Not for the first time, he wondered how Harribel had managed to endure however many years she existed in exile on that plane. It must have felt like starvation was coursing through her bones at every second.

Jeaguerjaques placed the stem between his teeth and continued pacing about, his penetrating gaze falling on deep blue sky, brush and flower, grass, rock and dirt. Much as he disliked to admit it, those shinigami did have it better than them, just like Aizen had said. There had often been an identical scent clinging to the three renegades whenever they adjourned to Hueco Mundo, one that the sharp-nosed _Espada_ had come to equate with the purported paradise they hailed from. And it turned out his assumption had proven correct. All this time, he and his fellow lost souls had been forced to make do with a barren, unwholesome place to live, while these fat feted fairies lounged about in splendor, with neither care nor want, allowed to do whatever they pleased in this spiritual Eden.

His wrath was building as he stalked through this locale, feeling like a tiger penned in a cage, looking for any excuse to maul whatever luckless soul might wander into range of his claws. The other Hollows in this area had apparently picked up on this sense from their warlord, and kept their distance from him. Thus the _Sexta _was left to his own devices, waiting along with all the rest on the uninhabited fringes of Soul Society.

The memories of how he came to be here did nothing to brighten his mood.

* * *

_Coming back to consciousness, the king of the hunt was rather disappointed to find himself still alive. What the hell? Did that little bastard STILL not have the balls to finish him? Did he have to get off his ass and beat the miserable shit into a proper understanding of just what he was dealing with? This wasn't a contest of strength, it was frigging WAR! You kill your enemies or they come back to cut you down from behind!_

_Opening his parched mouth with a growl, Grimmjow gagged suddenly as something dripped down his throat._

"_You're awake."_

_Coughing and spitting, his pale blue eyes squinted up at a sky of similar hue._

_Then he saw green._

_Green hair. Green blouse. White coat. The last was familiar. The rest didn't really ring a bell. Her voice made him feel like he was chewing glass, although that might be due to the throbbing that was only now registering in his skull and throughout the rest of his frame. It was a woman, though. And she had a mask of sorts perched atop her crown. So that meant she was one of them._

"_Can you speak, Sexta?"_

_Hell yeah, I can speak._

"_Grrmmm…"_

_Damn. Spoke too soon._

_While his tongue was apparently not back to working order yet, his sight had cleared considerably. Peering up at the woman crouched beside him, he got his first good look at her._

_The face still didn't do anything for him, but the smell… Yeah, that he knew. Not so much hers, but that coming off of the blood-stained coat which was draped around her shoulders. It was the sharp, steely odor he associated with his immediate superior in the ranks of the Espada. And while Grimmjow's brain wasn't quite clear of the remnants of pain-induced fog, the fact that she was wearing it told him that he was either in line for a promotion or looking at his newest obstacle to that position._

_She seemed to get what he was thinking regardless of his tongue-tied state._

"_Yes, he's dead. I don't think any more needs to be said on the topic. Just lie back and listen to what I have to say."_

_Then she spit in his face._

_There was a lot more than might have been expected, and that made it all the more disgusting. For a moment the feral fiend was prepared to spring up and tear the woman's throat out with his teeth. Before he could make the effort, though, it occurred to him that the slime flowing over his skin was by no means unpleasant. In fact, it seemed to be going a long way towards improving his current physical condition. The bloodlust was still there, but mixed in was a certain amount of confusion that left him wondering if perhaps he might still be dreaming._

"_I'm healing you, not because of any concern for your wellbeing, but so that you can do me a favor."_

_Kiss my ass, lady. And shove your favors up your own while you're at it._

"_Kiss _my_ ass, Sexta."_

_The hell? She a mind-reader?_

"_No, the look on your face said it all. Now focus, Grimmjow. You're alive, for what it's worth. But I don't have much time. There are shinigami coming this way. Strong ones, too. Can you feel them?"_

_He could. The bracing reiatsu wind fired his fighting impulses, making him yearn to rise up and give battle once again. In turn, his overseer reached down and placed a restraining hand on his chest. He snarled and struggled rather ineffectively against that restraining touch._

"_Forget it. You won't be here when they arrive. You have a duty to perform, just like I do. My last as an Espada, actually. I'm sending you to where you're supposed to be, so that you can bear a message to Aizen-sama when he arrives."_

_At this point, Grimmjow found that he was capable of speech once more. The venom she spewed obviously did the trick. More invasive than that human girl's touch, but he wasn't in a position to complain._

"_Spit it out, then, lady. I'll let you fulfill your duty before I rip your face off."_

_She gave no indication of having heard this. Instead, the trophy-wrapped warrior studied him with sandy eyes._

"_Tell your master this: Neliel bears him no ill will. I'm grateful for everything he gave me, but for reasons I will not explain, my path no longer lies with the Espada. This is my choice. If he truly believes in what he told me, he'll understand that. I don't expect to receive any mercy should the battle turn against me. But at the very least, I intend to remind him of why I earned the right to wield my blade as his Tercera."_

_With that, she stood up._

"_That's all. Goodbye, Grimmjow."_

_Just then, the wounded werecat felt a Garganta unseal beneath him. Helpless to prevent himself from falling into its maw, he glared up at the tall figure overseeing his disgraceful exit from this world and hissed, "I'll look for you on the battlefield, Neliel. You do the same for me, hear?"_

_As the rent in space closed, he saw her nod in assent._

_Then he was being drawn along to heaven-knew-where._

_

* * *

_

Heaven was exactly where he went, actually. Or the closest thing he had yet found. A place where he only had to breathe in, and the restless hunger that never left his side seemed to be appeased, for the nonce.

So. _This _is what I'm fighting for?

Jeaguerjaques looked around the quiet dell.

Goddammit.

It's beautiful.

For the first time in years, he was not seized by the feeling that there was danger lurking around every corner. There had been no shinigami waiting to fight him, or order him around, for that matter. And unless his senses had failed him, the other _Espada_ were nowhere near his location. Not that they weren't around somewhere, because that was the plan, right? Just that none of them were registering on his senses like…

A _Garganta _opened behind him.

Turning about, the _Sexta_ dismissed whatever idealism he might have been feeling. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the certain death he could feel coming out of that pit. It would be foolish to ignore it.

That sentiment was born out when the Devil himself stepped into his paradise.

_Pantera_ was out of its sheathe before he got a clear look at the thing, and when he did sudden realization caused even his fighting instincts to falter.

"Ulquiorra?"

There was no mistaking that joyless face, or the eyes, even if they were now more black than anything else. Grimmjow knew what the _Cuarta's_ released state looked like. Hell, he had lived with the masked version of this terror up until just a few months ago, so his going into _resurrección _should have been familiar. But while there was a definite similarity to what he knew as _Murcielago _Ulquiorra, this looked to be like Unholy Nightmare _Murcielago_ version. The wings were less those of a bat and more something you would find on a dragon, and this comparison was further born out by the presence of a tail, talons, and horns. Ulquiorra was naked, a thought that would have caused the blue-haired berserker to laugh had you told it to him, but in this situation, it only served to unnerve him all the more.

All this combined would not have been enough to make him quake like this, though. It wasn't the form, really, although that was weird enough. More like the unprecedented reiatsu that was assaulting him. What was coming off this thing was less an indication of spirit power and more a promise of certain death. That was the only way to describe it. If you came upon this monster, it meant you had just strayed beyond the fringes where life could be supported. Empty space, the pits of hell, wherever your imagination might lead you; should you find yourself in such a locale, this was what it would feel like. The last breath, the final hope, it was all behind you, and the only thing you had to look forward to was…

"Has Aizen-sama arrived yet?"

Ulquiorra's gaze was roaming about their environs, but just listening to the _vasto lorde _speak made it feel like the lesser Hollow's eardrums were going to pop. Clapping his hands to his ringing head, the general snarled angrily at his superior.

"No! Sunnuvabitch, _turn on your Sombra, you idiot!_ The shinigami'll spot you a mile away like that, if they haven't already!"

"It is activated," Schiffer responded in his standard desultory tones. The last vestiges of disbelief were blown away upon hearing it. "Only Hollows are able to discern my presence."

There were tears coming to Grimmjow's eyes, and the pounding in his skull was growing worse. "Can't you tone it _down some?_ I feel sick just standing near you! What in the hell happened to you, anyway?"

Those smooth white shoulders flexed slightly. "_Segunda Etapa. _The new form all _vasto lorde _attain when they become _arrancar _and acquire shinigami powers."

Flippin' perfect. This was just too much. And here he had thought his life couldn't get any more disappointing, but now the bastard had _another _release. Whoopty-doo.

As he thought this, the supreme Hollow's eyes left off flitting about and turned to regard him. Was it possible that Ulquiorra looked even _more _miserable than usual? It occurred to Grimmjow then that he might be expected to answer for that business with the _caja negación_ and trapping his commanding officer in another dimension for a few hours. There might even be some expectation of an apology in those accusing green orbs. Might as well get that out of the way first.

"I was hoping I'd never have to see you again, you sexless bitch."

There. That oughtta cover it. He might have just signed his own death warrant, but after the day he'd been having, the only thing that could make it significantly worse was to lose sight of his principles. And Grimmjow would be damned if he was going to let that happen.

From the looks of it, the other _Espada_ couldn't care less how his unruly subordinate referred to him. Still, Jeaguerjaques got the distinct impression that he was skating on thin ice. The thought made his blood run cold and hot with conflicting eagerness and trepidation. Well, nobody ever said my life was gonna be easy, did they? Or long, for that matter.

"I sense my superiors currently grouping elsewhere," the pallid phantom droned. "Until Aizen-sama presents himself, I believe I will join them."

"Did I ask what you were gonna do with your day?"

Ulquiorra spread his wings to take flight, and just then, a thought struck Grimmjow. "HEY!"

The nightmare paused.

"Kurosaki Ichigo." Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Grimmjow studied his compatriot. "What happened to him?"

Three heartbeat's worth of silence. Then…

"He is dead."

The ghost-cat's teeth clenched upon hearing this, grinding together audibly. Perhaps it was his own sense of irate frustration, but that declaration had sounded a trifle smug. Like Schiffer was enjoying being the one to tell this to Jeaguerjaques, or possibly anybody who asked.

And then he heard a sob.

The _vasto lorde_ sprang into the air, and for an instant as he rose up, Grimmjow found himself surprised to be looking into the overflowing eyes of Orihime Inoue, before the black tail wrapped around her throat jerked up and bore her off into the sky.

He watched the two disparate beings ascend, chewing on his own wrath and indignation.

Then Grimmjow spat into the dirt of heaven.

"Whatever."

* * *

The Lord of Death clambered atop what had once been a playground jungle-gym that He had converted into a makeshift throne and looked out upon His new domain.

Settling His equine lower half to rest on that twisted asymmetrical tower, Barragan Luisenbarn proceeded to fume at the indignity of it all. To think that He, once King of Hueco Mundo, should now have to resort to performing His own labors like a common servant. Yet another of the insults that insufferably smug freak of a shinigami had foisted off on Him. It was bad enough the greatest of all Hollows was forced to submit to that monster's direction and play the part of the menial (that would not last forever, though, no, it would not), but now He was even stripped of His own servants and must degrade Himself in a manner unfit for one of His peerless standing! Not even permitted to announce His presence to this world He had come to subjugate, forced to hide and cower under the spell of that little magician's trick!

Of course, Aizen had insisted that using Barragan's entire remaining _fracción _was necessary for his latest self-absorbed deception, but that gave the deposed Hollow Emperor no comfort. He could not shake the impression that it had simply been one more in a long list of unforgivable slights the usurper had heaped upon Him. There were limits to His kingly indulgences, and if Sōsuke weren't careful, he might find himself deserted by a goodly portion of his own army. Or even better, fall under attack from those same forces at a crucial strategic moment. Yes, that would be most pleasant to behold.

Cupping His severed skull in between bony fingers, Luisenbarn contemplated the panorama that was Soul Society. Lifting the bejeweled head higher, He rotated one way, while His corresponding horse head went the other. Right now, all He could see was the relocated portion of the human world, and what an ugly excuse for habitation it proved to be. There was a disturbing redundancy to all these huts, like they had been designed and constructed by the same mob of unimaginative architects. Stone and wattle dwellings, with not a shred of creativity to recommend them to His eyes. He would have destroyed them all, but it would have been beneath Him to engage in such an effort.

But the sky was a truly magnificent shade of blue, He had to admit. Almost regal in its vibrant potency, welcoming its new soon-to-be ruler. Although this appreciation of His new lands was slightly marred by the realization that it had been bequeathed to Him as part of Aizen's largesse, the spoils of war He had been promised in return for faithfully executing his commands.

Command. The very word made Barragan seethe in His seat. Everything that contemptible malcontent did was poison working its way down His craw, forced to swallow it like all those other blind fools who did not bother to wonder just what might become of their species once Aizen sat upon the throne of heaven. The lying savage no doubt had it in mind for his conquered shinigami brethren to 'purify' the lot of them after the battle, rendering Hueco Mundo truly barren and bringing all under his thumb in one fell swoop. Well, at least one of the _Espada _would not permit such a travesty to take place. In fact, before the day was done, even more of the death-dealers might find themselves opposing their supposed leader's machinations, willing or…

"I HAVE FOUND YOU!"

His thoughts were interrupted by this shout. Looking down, the _Segunda Espada_ found Himself confronted by…

Hmmm.

Judging by that ridiculous attire, complete with motley cape, jingly cap and mountebank's staff, it would appear that this was some form of court jester. And a human, at that.

Perhaps the little creature wishes to entertain us in exchange for its life? A pitiful delusion, but we will permit it to employ its antics, for the sake of our possible amusement.

"At last you reveal yourself, Bad Spirit King!" the performer cried, flinging his dreadlocked head back and brandishing his decorative toy fiercely. "I have long trained for this day, when my destiny will at last be realized! Now, with the whole world standing on the brink of Armageddon, the New Age's Visionary Vizier will step up to vanquish the root of all evil, securing a future filled with the spirit of love and hope for all children everywhere! Prepare yourself, Oh Regent of Hell!"

Apparently this was to be a heroic farce of some kind. A pity his warriors were not here to make sport of the delinquent. Could there be an opponent lurking in the wings for it to do mock battle with? The crowned conqueror considered.

We would like to know more about this display.

"_By what name are you known, verbose vagabond?"_

The fool drew itself up proudly, in a poor imitation of grandeur. Really, what kind of chaff would find favor with this sort of tomfoolery? It boggles the mind.

"I am the one favored by heaven, the one blessed with the ability to perceive supernatural wrongdoers and end their depredations upon the living, the one chosen to lead the forces of virtue in their heroic efforts against the minions of evil!" He planted his stick in the ground and proceeded to wrap himself entirely in one fold of his oversized cape. "You see before you the Emissary of the Afterlife, the Guru of Ghosts! The one, the only, DON KANONJI-SAMA!"

Did it just address itself with a distinguished honorific? What self-aggrandizing folly. Let us see what more might come of it.

Since there were no vassals here to perform his introductions, princely courtesy demanded he do so himself. Lifting his head up one-handed, Barragan then intoned, _"Know this, meager one. Before YOU sits the Lord of the Lifeless Demesne, Ruler of the Wailing Waste. Past and Future Master of Hueco Mundo, King Barragan Luisenbarn! And for your attempts at entertaining us, we promise you a quick and painless death afterwards." _He then settled himself in to watch the show.

"Your arrogance shall be your undoing, Your Majesty!" Kanonji thundered in return, whipping out one long brown finger and pointing it up at his lone audience. At least he got the title right, the Hollow reflected. "You think me as ill-informed as all others who have challenged you and failed. But thanks to my training, I am able to perceive your One True Weakness!"

What was it going on about?

"YES!" the spirit guide continued, wiggling his fingers, eyes flashing behind his obscuring shades. "I am no fool! From the moment I first espied you, I determined from your appearance that you were no mere ghost, but that most unholy of malevolent entities, an UNDEAD-ghost! Little did you realize that your kind's greatest bane has already been revealed to the world!" He struck another absurdly silly pose, balancing on one leg and lifting his arms to heaven. "It was thanks to none other than the little children who follow my adventures, on whom I have lavished countless hours of my protection and attention, that I have come to bear this priceless bit of information. For as anyone who has played an RPG in the last twenty years can tell you…"

And Don Kanonji dropped back down, squaring his shoulders, bending his knees and bringing his arms up palms facing outward. Tears of gratitude flowed down the hero's cheeks and into his moustache as he silently thanked those loyal young fans who had permitted him to play video games with them.

"…UNDEAD MONSTERS ARE VULNERABLE TO HEALING MAGIC!"

The hooved familiar pawed its rider's throne restlessly. Was there nothing more to this than shouting and prancing about?

"TAKE THIS! _'SUPER MAGICAL GAMMA-ULTRA VORPAL REJUVENATING SOUL-CLEANSING SPIRIT RESTORER MARK VIII: HOLY EXCALIBUR BLAST'!"_

As the magician spoke, a tiny ball of green energy budded in front of his hands, and with a cry, he sent it puttering quickly up towards its target.

Upon the ball's ascending to the king's vicinity, His stallion half gave a snort out of one bony nostril, and the speck of magic was blown off into the distance, vanishing like a star at dawn.

The Defender of Decency remained frozen in his previous position, apparently at a loss.

When nothing more was forthcoming, the dullahan lost patience.

_"We are not amused."_

He rose in preparation to follow through on His promise of a speedy execution. The mortal plucked up its stick and assumed a fighting stance. Hollow and human faced one another.

"CUT!"

At that moment, two young human males, one tall, the other short, raced with utmost speed onto the playground. Before either combatant could react to this intrusion on their duel, the smaller one proceeded to elbow Don Kanonji in the gut. When he doubled over, his other assailant grabbed the cape and wound it swiftly around his head. The blinded television personality came upright, shouting in consternation.

"What's going…?"

Right then, the taller human grabbed Kanonji from behind by the shoulders and proceeded to shove him unceremoniously out of the park. "Makeup time, Kanonji-sama!" he shouted in a high, girlish falsetto.

While they fled, the remaining riffraff, a tiny dark-haired thing who contrived to wear a pleasant smile even in the face of the dire looming figure before him, held up a small device. "Our humblest apologies, Your Highness. As a token of our regard, please accept this musical performance in lieu of a live show."

He pressed a button on the device, and into the stillness of that deserted elementary school, there suddenly erupted Wagner's _Ride of the Valkyries._

Barragan leaned forward on His mount.

Interesting.

He crooked a finger, and the melodious object shot out of the boy's grasp and streaked up into His own. Listening to this unfamiliar paean, the former ruler of the Hollow Nation found Himself intrigued by the discordant yet somehow rousing tune encased in this music box.

On the edge of His perceptions, Barragan noticed that the supplicant seemed to be waiting upon His reaction. After considering the matter, He gave a leisurely sweep of the hand holding the gift.

"_We are mollified by your offering, and see fit to grant your troupe a stay of execution. Begone." _

The entertainer bowed, and departed with utmost haste.

The _Segunda _remained unmoving for several minutes, examining this new treasure. Could humans truly create sounds so pleasing to the senses? Perhaps we should see to culling a few of the most aesthetically gifted from their ranks before we let loose the hordes to feast upon them.

Just as He was pondering this, the opera ceased without warning, and in its place there came a weird little jingle that was totally at odds to what had been playing before. Barragan's lipless mouth tightened in consternation. Just as his annoyance was starting to build, this music too stopped, and from out of the box there came a voice.

"Mizuiro, honey? It's Minami."

"_Who speaks?" _The lich lord glowered at his errant possession.

"Mizuiro? Are you there? You better not be talking to some of your other girlfriends, because you and I had a date today."

Perplexed, Luisenbarn brought His head over to the toy. Was it attempting to converse with Him?

"_What manner of spirit are you? And who is this Mizuiro of whom you speak?"_

"Oh, yeah, listen, about that, I'm actually gonna have to cancel. I've got a wicked hangover from last night, I can't even leave the apartment to go outside, the light's just too bright. You don't mind, right, gorgeous?"

"_What… did you call us?"_

"Call me back with another time, all right? I can't wait to rip your clothes off and hump your bones until they break, lover!"

"…"

"MUSHI-MUSHI, BABY!"

The voice disappeared.

For a long time, Barragan stared at the brightly colored machine in his hand.

Then he crushed it into fragments and scattered them to the winds, resolving to speak of this incident to no one. Afterwards, he chose to sit upon his throne and wait.

* * *

"_What are we waiting for?"_ Ichigo screamed, whipping about in midair. "We have to go _after him_, we can't just _sit here_ while he murders a quarter of a million people!"

"Ichigo."

His distracted gaze flitted over to where Ishida stood with Sado on a square of cloth floating above the clouds. The bowman's face held that same quiet, icy distaste he had directed at the substitute shinigami since first meeting him, and seeing it caused an old wound to reopen on top of everything else while his former nemesis spoke.

"You seem to be forgetting that you, Chad and I can't simply waltz into Soul Society whenever we please. There have to be special dispensations made for the living, even if one of those living technically doesn't have a body at this time."

"AND?" Kurosaki spit, fists clenched and aching to just beat that look off the know-it-all's face. "What do _you_ suggest we do, then?"

Uryū's eyes narrowed, and he actually looked down his nose at the spirit of his ally. "Gee, I don't know. Why don't you ask the man we usually turn to at times like this?"

"Present and accounted for!"

All eyes turned to where Kisuke Urahara was waving his fan about enthusiastically, that old manic cheer replacing the dire mood that he had worn upon their entrance back into the world of the living. Apparently no longer inhabiting his customary faux body, the shinigami technician was floating above the earth much in the manner of his fellow captain-level spirits orbiting around him. Still garbed in somewhat antiquated clothes and floppy hat, he looked as comfortable and imperturbable as they had ever known him.

This too made Ichigo want to break something, preferably the blonde man's face.

"No need to look quite so overwhelmed, Master Kurosaki," Urahara sang like a vendor hocking wares at a carnival. "My associates and I have not been dawdling in your absence. You don't have to wait around with your hands in your pockets for weeks like last time. I assure you all, your method of conveyance back to Soul Society is ready and awaiting you. You need only give the word, and you'll be off."

The roughhousing redhead hesitated, considering this. His brain was still swimming from the sudden revelation that his much-anticipated final battle with Aizen had once again been relocated in terms of space and time, as well as learning the promised sanctuary he had hoped would keep his loved ones out of harm's way was instead merely a gift-wrapped box waiting for the maniac to open and feast upon. At this point, the only thing that made any sense at all was interposing himself between the murderous depredations of that would-be god and fighting until one of them was reduced to absolutely nothing.

Feeling somewhat dazed, he glanced around him, as if for reassurance that the world had not fallen into chaos in the last few seconds. As he did, his eye alighted on something that seemed to confirm the continued presence of peace in creation.

Rukia remained at attention beside her unflappable brother, the two of them both mirror images of calm composed combatants. Her back was turned, listening to Byakuya and his colleagues discussing with Tessai Tsukabishi the current state of affairs. But almost as if feeling her gaze on him, her head turned slightly. In that moment, whether aware of it or not, she was standing in the exact same position as the first time they looked at one another, that day when a black butterfly had fluttered down between him and a rampaging monster, disposing of the fiend without breaking a sweat.

This memory caused his scattered thoughts to gather, muscles to unclench from panicked rigor. The female shinigami's face, older than him by far but possessed of warmth and human compassion nonetheless, reminded the teen that not all his loved ones were now in Soul Society.

Right over there was a person who had quietly granted him the right to bear her heart.

I have so many reasons to win this day, it's almost unfair to Aizen. What compulsions could that dead man possibly have that could compare to what I'm feeling now?

_You're confident you can beat him._

Nah. I'm just confident he'll lose.

"Having a tender moment there, Kurosaki-san?"

Of a sudden Urahara was standing by his side. Turning to address him, Ichigo was momentarily halted by the change in the jocular comedian's demeanor. Once more his gaze was reserved and penetrating as steel, the eyes of the man who had casually tried to kill Ichigo in the name of awakening his latent powers. This served to make the boy's skin crawl, reminding him that Sōsuke wasn't the only one whose intentions he had reason to doubt.

"Where's this gate you have set up, Urahara-san?"

The green-garbed shoulders lifted in a shrug, and he indicated over one of them. "Right outside the barrier we're currently in, ready and waiting for you and your allies to put it to good use."

This comment caused something to click in his head, and Ichigo frowned at his unknowable accomplice. "Mind if I ask you something?"

Cool gray eyes absorbed his face thoughtfully, the fan coming up to cover his mouth. "Ask away, dear boy. I'll hold nothing back."

"Are Shinji and the other Vizard in Soul Society right now?" When one laconic eyebrow raised in response, he plowed ahead. "Don't bother denying you know them. I put together a few things on my own these last few months. Getting my ass kicked in the exact same underground rock garden for the third time in a row would cause even a guy like me to take notice. You helped them build their hideout. And unless I miss my guess, you had something to do with that crew becoming Vizard in the first place. Am I right?"

Urahara's cap dipped down slightly, hiding the other half of his face from view.

"I do bear some responsibility for that, I won't deny it. But not as much as others. Any aid I offered them throughout the years was done with the understanding that they would not hold any of my failings against me, and I would do the same." He dropped the fan then, and raised his head. "And to answer your question, yes, Shinji and company are still in this world."

Kurosaki crossed his arms over his chest. "Any particular reason why they haven't thrown their hat into the ring? Should I be doubting their intentions anymore than I already am?"

"You're right to be suspicious, young man, if only because it's an emotion that could very well save your life." The flaxen-haired fighter rubbed his neck absently, that disturbingly lucid gaze reminding Ichigo not for the first time of Mayuri Kurotsuchi. "But let me make one thing perfectly clear: the Vizard, and myself, are totally devoted to obstructing the rise of Aizen. Admittedly, our priorities in that regard might not be the same as yours. No surprise, really, we all have different reasons to see his ambitions come to nothing. Still, for the foreseeable future, shinigami and Vizard have a common enemy, and that's enough to make at least our side forget about past wrongs."

He gave a sigh then, and rolled his head to one side. "Unfortunately, trust, once broken, has proven highly difficult to mend. Despite repeated exhortations on my part, and the appeals of several high-ranking deputies of the afterlife, at the current time the ban on the Vizard still stands. Since Yamamoto assumed our enemies would be staging their grand performance here and not in Soul Society, he never made any dispensations to rescind the bindings that prevent any of us criminal types from reentering Soul Society."

There was something distinctly unpleasant in Kisuke's voice, enough to make his audience feel uncomfortable to hear it.

"I guess he thought that such amnesty could be given consideration after the war was over, once we had proven our worth and loyalty. But it's all moot, now. To put it simply, Ichigo, you have my support and every confidence. As for my sword," and he tapped his cane against the palm of his other hand, "Well, that I'm afraid you'll have to do without."

The glowering youth regarded that innocuous stick of wood, reminded of certain painful lessons he had learned about judging by appearance. It was this, perhaps, that caused him to consider something he had not before, and with a jerk of his head, he suddenly blurted out, "Wait a second, what about Yoruichi?"

"What about her?" Urahara drawled.

"She goes to Soul Society whenever she wants! If you guys are barred from entering, why isn't she? Isn't she a fugitive too?"

"Ah," and the outcast considered the occult staff held loosely in his grip. "Well, in regards to that, let me just say that prior to our banishment, Yoruichi showed considerably more foresight than me. As a result, she has a means at her disposal that can't be balked by anyone. She can always return to Seireitei. You might say she never really left."

This cryptic response did nothing to answer his question, but before he could point this out, another voice intruded on their discussion.

"My, my. Are you still running off half-cocked and coming up short, Kisuke-taichou?"

Both men turned. As if having being summoned by his previous stray thought, a short distance off Captain Kurotsuchi stood beaming at Ichigo and his erstwhile ally. Behind him, the last traces of a _Garganta_ closed up just as Nemu exited it, her lackluster features coming to focus on her creator's former master with what might have been professional curiosity. There was certainly nothing else animating that face at this time.

"Hello, Mayuri," Soul Society's dethroned genius grinned cheekily. "That's a very extravagant wardrobe you're sporting. Did some rich relative I'm not familiar with pass away under mysterious circumstances, leaving you all his wealth?"

The lack of any honorific to his name seemed to be causing Kurotsuchi as much distress coming from Kisuke as it had Ichigo. However, another notable absence drew the anxious defender's eye to swivel around in search of something, and then alight on the clownish deviant when they couldn't find it.

"Where's Nel?" he asked in a singularly menacing vein.

Golden eyes flicked briefly over to regard him before turning back to their main objective. "Ah. Yes. The lady asked me to tender her warmest regards to you, and to inform you that she would be going on ahead to Soul Society. While most likely a defection on her part, I chose not to hinder her escape. After all, her presence could hardly make a significant difference to our plans."

"You son of a bitch," Ichigo growled, one hand going up to grasp Zangetsu's hilt, the shroud already unwrapping. "If you've hurt her, I swear I'm going to finish what Uryū couldn't _right here!"_

Any thoughts of immediate violence were put on hold when Nemu interposed herself between her parent and his potential assailant. "Mayuri-sama speaks the truth. As proof, I have been asked to recite to you the secret name of their three-person organization."

"What?"

**"**_**ThE-MySGDET-hRioRTS-NelBRODon-THEPeRS-YOOOOOOO!"**_

What sounded like three voices all screaming out at once exploded from Nemu's throat in a manner similar to a bomb going off. Ichigo and Urahara both flew backwards, clapping hands to their ears in the face of this sonic assault. For his part, Mayuri only rubbed his gold-plated sideburns like something was tickling him, sucking idly on his teeth.

All was quiet for a while.

Then shinigami deputy and scientist peeked up blearily. Dusting himself off, Ichigo rose first and offered a helpful hand to Urahara, who accepted while retrieving his hat which had been blown clean off his head. Once upright, they regarded the source of this disturbance warily, as if fearing further outbursts.

"What are you bunch of maniacs doing over here?"

Heads turned as Rukia stepped nimbly over to join them, frowning in obvious displeasure with Tessai at her back. The look she was directing at them caused Ichigo to be somewhat flustered by his previous reaction, while Kisuke just smiled in that innocent and unconvincing way he had. As for Mayuri, he was looking at her in a way that made her former landlord and potential partner seriously think about beheading the guy. The madman was eyeing Rukia like she was an orange he was considering plucking, peeling, and messily devouring.

While Ichigo was considering his newfound role of the jealous boyfriend, Captain Kurotsuchi pulled a lustrous diamond-encrusted pipe from his robe and proceeded to light it with what looked suspiciously like a burning 10,000 Yen note.

"I believe these two imbeciles were just discussing their means of exiting this dimension, or lack thereof." Blowing out a stream of smoke, he then reached over and placed an arm around Rukia's shoulder, which to virtually everyone's surprise she did not cut off in response, although Tessai's spectacles flashed in a way that hinted he might be willing to step up in that respect. "Now, then, Rukia-ojousama, I trust you have come over to inform us what the other captains have decided would be the most obvious tactic in our current situation. I think we all could use a good laugh, so please, waste no more time and tell us."

The tiny warrior glanced at all of their faces appreciatively, but it was the muscular magician standing behind her who spoke.

"We've received intel from our supporters. Approximately ten minutes ago, the uncivilized hinterlands beyond the 80th ring simply filled up with Hollows. There was no evidence of _Gargantas_ opening to explain it. More like they were already there and simply chose that time to let themselves be known. It's estimated this force is roughly twelve times the current strength of the Gotei 13, consisting of regular Hollow, a huge force of _Menos _both _Gillian _and _adjuchas_, several hundred _arrancar_, and what we believe to be the remnants of the _Espada_." Ichigo blanched at the news. "This includes four power signatures of a level so high they cannot at this time be measured. Prior samples taken have the Twelfth division speculating that these are the _vasto lorde_ currently under Aizen's command."

"Meh," the captain of that company waved a hand dismissively. "We can determine their provenance at a later date."

"Tessai," Urahara spoke up, "What specifically has Soul Society done in the wake of this news?"

His fellow exile looked grave beneath his eyeglasses and moustache. "All able divisions have been stationed around the walls of Seireitei. The captains and lieutenants are leading them, and the Kidō Corps has activated the _Enkei no Gogyou._"

Before he could even think to ask, Nemu answered Ichigo's unspoken question. "The_ Ring of Fire_. It is a defense mechanism that amplifies the normal barrier found around the Court of Pure Souls to a phenomenal extent. The duration is only seven hours maximum, but for that time, it could resist the combined assault of an entire division of captain-class shinigami. There now exists a much smaller chance of our opponents being able to simply break through by strength alone."

"Smaller, but not nonexistent," her originator piped up harshly. "This tactic is nothing more than a panicked reaction meant to buy time until the Commander-General can bring in reinforcements."

"Reinforcements?" Now Kurosaki really needed an explanation.

"Zero Squad." That was Tessai once more. "The Royal Guard, composed entirely of former captains and sorcerers without peer. They are a company charged with securing the health and safety of the King of Soul Society, and the most awesome force that exists in all the afterlife. Their deployment in the field comes only in response to something that threatens the very existence of our world. It is a power that could lay waste to the current incarnation of the Gotei 13 without any effort."

"And we wouldn't want to miss that!" Mayuri rubbed his hands together expectantly, almost hopping with glee. "Come on now, all of you, let's away before the real festivities start! I wouldn't miss what's coming for the world."

His ex-commander had his fan out once more and was hiding behind it while managing to sound supremely disinterested. "In that case, bon voyage. Don't forget to call on us when it's all over."

"Wait, wait!"

They turned to where Ichigo was looking around, confused.

"That's it? It's over? These mystery captains are coming in from out of nowhere to save the day? If you have them, then what's the point of regular death gods, anyway?"

"This is not a thing done lightly," Tsukabishi rumbled back, his brow creased now with what might be worry or dismay. "Such a release of force could have disastrous impact on the fabric of Soul Society, possibly destabilizing the natural order of things beyond repair. The effects would undoubtedly cross over to your world as well. Even if we are triumphant in the end, what we are left with might be a sad remnant of the life we once knew. But the alternative is to accept what seems to be certain annihilation at the hands of Sōsuke's invasion. Once Yamamoto realized just how outmatched we were, it was the only possible move he could make. It is one even he hesitated at choosing unless left with no other option."

"Excuse me."

Unnoticed, Uryū Ishida had managed to manipulate the solid surface he was standing on so that it had brought him close enough to this discussion to participate. "Perhaps I'm missing out here, but aren't you people forgetting something?"

When no response came, and even Mayuri didn't seem inclined to seek an answer to that question, the mortal mage pressed on regardless. "You said the shinigami were stationed around the Seireitei, and the Hollows are outside the final ring. But what about what lies between them? What's being done to protect all the billions of souls that are inhabiting the Rukongai? Can someone please tell me that? Or did they not enter into your calculations, since they don't have any soul power to speak of?"

This last caustic remark caused Captain Kurotsuchi to chuckle, but for his part, Ichigo felt that his teammate had hit upon a good point. Just what was going to happen to all those dead folks living in what was about to become a battlefield? When the fighting began, which might be at any second, were all the regular souls going to be nothing more than casualties of war, caught in the conflict with nowhere to go and either be blown to pieces or eaten by Hollows?

While this disturbing scene was unfolding in his mind, a hand reached up and slapped him soundly in the face.

"GAAAH!" Kurosaki screamed. "WHAT THE HELL, RUKIA?"

The girl who had rocked his world with her earnest declaration of love less than half an hour ago now regarded him with narrowed purple eyes that fairly dripped with contempt. "Idiot!" she snapped, and rounded on where the white-clad archer stood. "And that goes for you too, Quincy! I can't believe that after all our time together, the two of you can still be so self-righteous and childish as to misunderstand what it is we are trying to do here! This isn't about winning a war! It's about saving the souls and lives of everyone living in _your _hometown…!" she pointed at both of them in turn, "…and our whole world! So give us some credit, why don't you?"

"I believe what my sister is trying to say," and several people jumped noticeably as the commanding voice of Byakuya Kuchiki announced the nobleman's arrival, "is that we have already taken steps to ensure that the spirits under our protection will come to no harm during the upcoming conflict. That includes the people living in Karakura Town."

"Ahhh," the head of Squad Twelve breathed out a long stream of blue smoke. "So then I take it this means your family's venture was a success?"

"As if there was ever any doubt," his counterpart in Squad Six intoned, and cast a glance in his sibling's direction. At this, Rukia visibly reddened, but there was no hiding the pleased smile that was working its way past the veneer of proper respectability she was trying to emulate.

Whatever communication was passing between these three, however, the rest of the people present were clearly at a loss.

"Can somebody please explain…?" Chad raised an arm hesitantly, as if asking a question in math class he suspected everyone else already knew the answer to. In return, the smallest shinigami in that group gave him a look that expressed her understanding and relief.

"The Kuchiki household…" and she gave a slightly embarrassed cough, "…recognized the position regarding our charges in the Rukongai that Soul Society found itself in following the desertion of the three captains. Rather than see these defenseless souls be caught up in the cataclysm that was sure to follow, we employed a large portion of our resources to contract sufficient manpower and soul power to devise a means by which those innocents could be moved out of harm's way, along with the people inhabiting Karakura Town once it was transferred into Soul Society. While there was little time, we did have historical records dealing with such a proceeding to hasten our efforts. And according to a report that my brother and I received following our exit from Hueco Mundo, that effort was a success."

She then turned a look on Ichigo that made his still-stinging cheek become nothing more than a vague memory.

"They're safe," she whispered, face glowing with pride and satisfaction. "All of them. You don't have to worry about that."

* * *

Karin sat up in bed, staring at the wall before her.

Something's wrong.

This idea was borne out when she looked to her left and found her twin's bed was empty.

For a while the ten-year old only stared, wondering if she was truly awake or simply on the border between dream and reality.

"Yuzu?"

Her voice sounded loud in the emptiness. About to crawl off her mattress, she paused, thinking. How exactly did I get here? I don't remember going to bed, and anyway, it isn't even night. The room was dark, with the shades drawn, but she could still see the cracks of illumination that told her the sun was yet high.

"Hello?"

No answer. All right, then, I'll figure out what's happening myself. Padding barefoot over to her door, Karin opened it. The hallway was empty. She recognized that there was an abnormality in her home, but this didn't frighten her. At least, not yet. It was difficult to say what she was feeling right now. Trepidation, maybe, or suspicion. Like this could just be one of her goofy dad's ideas of family bonding. Evacuate the house while Karin's sleeping and see how she reacts.

To confirm that she was indeed alone, the elder Kurosaki girl made her way over to her brother Ichigo's room. The door was closed. She raised a hand, about to knock, only to reconsider and simply push the portal open.

Sunlight was indeed pouring through the window. Stepping further in, she noticed there were some magazines on the bed, and what appeared to be algebra homework laid out on the desk. Although she wasn't up to that level of math, even Karin could tell that none of the problems had been completed, and furthermore part of it seemed to have been pushed onto the floor.

At this point, the preteen noticed that the magazines were of the adult persuasion. Oh, gross. Whatever that dopey thing inhabiting her brother's body was, it had all the impulses of a teenage boy. Actually, the look-alike had a more typical attitude for Ichigo's generation than he did. But still, none of this was explaining anything that might be happening.

Crossing her arms, Karin glowered at the vapidly sensual smiles peering up at her off the pages. "What the hell has gone wrong today?" she muttered.

And then the roof caved in.

Karin Kurosaki hit the ground hard and slumped against the floorboards. The impression that her house had crushed in on itself was false. The ceiling remained intact above her, but it had honestly felt as though an insupportable weight had slammed down on her shoulders, crushing her beneath what she had come to recognize as the feeling of an evil spirit.

Helplessness. Horror. It was all she could do to breathe. The experience of recognizing when those skull-monsters entered the world was never pleasant, but nothing had ever affected her like this. Not back when she had tried to tell Ichigo she knew he was a shinigami, or after he came back and there had been a day when something even more hellish had briefly appeared, so strong it made that previous episode seem as a breeze against her skin by comparison. That had been like a hammer blow to the head, it was so intense.

Oddly enough, even as she lay there shivering and sweat-soaked, the young spirit-medium recognized it. This presence had a feel to it that… well, you could say it _tasted _like that dreadful thing from before, only much greater. It was disrupting her spirit to such an extent that she almost felt like she was being pulled into another world, a plane of existence composed entirely of this beastly spirit energy, large as the planet she lived on, more frightening than facing Death itself.

Then, without warning, she found Death was looking back.

The light coming in from the window was blocked out, and a gigantic orange eye peered in. Flickering about, the white pupil finally focused on her splayed in a nerveless heap.

She then heard a ghastly snicker of delight.

_**Soooo there. Hel-He-EEElo, little one. Are you hee-heeeee! Are you looking for a place GRAVE-BARROW-CAIRN to lie down in?**_

Her ears popped from the pressure of hearing that voice, which buzzed and swelled as though it could hardly contain its own unrelenting power. She tried desperately to close her eyes, plug up her nose and senses, but found herself unable to move.

When Karin didn't respond, her attacker heaved and giggled, pressing itself against the windowpane. The girl saw tiny cracks going up the glass, making it look as if the beast's eye was splitting in the same manner as her own skull felt. Then it pulled away, and she caught a brief glimpse of scarred black skin, before the side of a feral mouth came up to pant outside the wall.

_**IgNORing meee? Look, I have teeth, lots and LOTS of them, I'll let you playayayay with them run your fingers and arms and legs over them cut yourself on them bleed all over them, SO pretty, won't youaaaahhhhh it hurtsbitemyself mouths screaming on my back they're MY fleas…**_

_**Won't you…**_

Its tones suddenly turned into a whine.

_**Won't you come out and play with me?**_

Karin whimpered.

_**Yes yessss, look at you, hiding in this shell a turtle clam oyster. Warm meat waiting for me to rip it open and devoooour, it's your pur-purposssse porpoise porcine porcupine all meat all mine all wanting me to eat them they shake and jiggle and screa-screa…SCREAAAAAAAAMMM!**_

The floor and ceiling shook from the weight of that cry, which transformed into a howl, and the terrified child shrieked with it.

Both cut off when a force erupted from below them.

Karin jumped upright, swaying unsteadily. It felt like being caught in a nutcracker for a moment, squeezed from both sides. Then there came a gasp from the abomination outside, and the weight of the world lifted off of her. The swell of opposing power then pushed out, past where she was standing. When she fell into its embrace now, there was no sense of discomfort or disorientation. This was welcoming, like it was a part of her. Or maybe she was a part of it, hard to say. Kind of like Ichigo's burgeoning spirit presence, which was so familiar to her now she hardly even noticed it.

Outside the Kurosaki clinic, Coyote Stark reared up in surprise, then crouched down low on his haunches, tail wagging from side to side as he peered through the holes cut into this turtle's shell. Someone was in there, he realized after a time. A fierce soul, roaring out at him, challenging him! It was one of the gods, they had finally made an appearance.

His tail lashed eagerly, mouth drooling ichor and bile that smoked when it touched the ground. One god and one human, linked by blood, the taste when he mixed them together in his mouth was going to be so _delicious_. With that, the fenris opened his matchless maw wide to swallow both morsels.

A small pinging noise came off to one side, and without another thought the _vasto lorde_ forgot about what he had been thinking previously to look over at it.

At first Stark couldn't make out what it might have been. Then his frenzied eye caught sight of a smoking hole in the street, smaller than a mortal's finger. There was something familiar about it. He pondered this anomaly, but just as he was about to lose interest, the noise came again, and another miniscule pockmark appeared out of nowhere a short distance from the first. Then again, and again. They were leading off down the street, away from where he sat.

CHASE!

This thought overwhelmed anything else the ancient terror might have been considering, and with an exclamation equal parts howl and laugh, the mightiest _Espada_ took off, scrabbling recklessly in pursuit of his invisible quarry, whatever it might prove to be. His back legs split in two, claws tearing through stone as Coyote crashed and rebounded off the homes lining this street. Giggling and high as a kite, helpless to resist his own mad whims, he heedlessly disregarded everything save for the glorious feeling of pursuit and eventual kill, lost to his instincts.

Back at the forgotten domicile, Karin staggered backwards out into the corridor. Panting, pressed against a wall for support, she felt light-headed and confused in a way that assured her she was still alive.

Then that odd soul power cut off, and she nearly crumpled from the loss.

Remaining upright, the tomboy raised a trembling hand to her brow in an attempt to get her bearings. What was that thing? And what drove it off? Feeling more curious now than afraid, she then moved to the stairs and stumbled down them, clutching the balustrade for support.

When Karin rounded the corner, she saw someone sitting on the bottom step.

"Dad?"

Isshin Kurosaki glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. His face looked wan and a little sad, and there was sweat beaded on his brow.

"Hey, daughter. Are you doing all right?"

She nodded back without words, blinking in perplexity at this oddly stoic and atypical version of her perverted parent.

Her father nodded back. "Good." Then he turned away and resumed slumping on the step. After a bit, his child made her way down to join him, sitting somewhat awkwardly at his side.

"Is Yuzu still asleep?"

She started, not anticipating any questions being directed her way. "She's… gone. I don't know where."

"Ah," Isshin mused, considering this. "Well, wherever she is, I'm sure she's also safe."

He didn't look at her when he spoke, but Karin continued to stare at her somber sire for several seconds afterwards. "Ichi-n… I mean, where's…"

She didn't know quite how to phrase that question without revealing things to him she wasn't certain of herself, but he seemed to know what she meant.

"He's outside. Said he had to do something. Don't worry, he can take care of himself."

Before the girl could speak again, a faint chime sounded in the air. Reaching into his pocket, the doctor retrieved a cell phone and flipped it open. "Kurosaki… Oh, hey, Ishida, I thought you might call… Yeah, same to you, buddy… Yup, we're all doing fine here, thanks for butting in… No, as a matter of fact, I didn't feel it coming."

Isshin glanced over at where his wide-eyed daughter regarded him intently, then continued speaking. "Listen, I hate to be a burden, but do you think you could come over to my place and keep an eye on things…? Yes, I know it's asking a lot, but we're something like the biggest attraction around at this point. The kid's out there right now doing his thing, but considering what we're dealing with, I'd like to take a more hands-on approach. And you're the only person I can trust with my family's safety. Tell you what, we'll say I owe you a drink after it's all over, whaddaya say?"

There was quiet for a moment, and then a murmur of agreement from the other end. "That's the spirit! Us divorcees and widowers have to stick together, now!"

A short but audibly abusive statement followed, and the phone beeped off.

"Touchy, touchy," the goateed goofball sighed, and pocketed the device once again.

"Dad?"

"Eh?"

Father and daughter looked at one another. Upon seeing the fear in his brave little girl's face, Isshin reached over and laid an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to him. For once, Karin did not resist this show of intimacy. There was nothing indecent about it, and she found herself needing comfort at this time more than at any point since her mother had died.

"Don't worry," the former shinigami captain who held her said softly. "No one's going to hurt my family ever again. Not while I'm around."

* * *

Grimmjow stared down at the cowering scouts before him, their masks doing nothing to hide the terror they were feeling at having delivered such news.

"Empty?" he hissed, teeth bared and eyes blazing. "What the hell do you mean it's _EMPTY?"_

"We…" One of them, wearing a partially-removed helm that allowed a single panicked brown eye to peer out, managed to speak up. "We did as you asked. More, even. We went beyond our established limit just to be certain, as far as what is the Thirtieth ring, according to the information Aizen-sama supplied us with. There was nothing." She swallowed, hastily looking to the dozen or so other sentries for support. No one so much as met her gaze, they were all staring at the earth for fear of attracting the violent predator's attention. Standing alone before that murderous presence, she swallowed her fear and continued. "Empty buildings. Deserted streets. Not even a single dog wandering about, much less a shinigami. We looked everywhere, aboveground and below. There's not a soul to be found."

The Hollow soldier fell silent and remained crouched before her commander.

"It's Soul Society." Grimmjow's snarl was redolent of the jungle cats he resembled. "_SOUL SOCIETY! _This is the place ALL the regular souls of the world go when they die, and where we go when they kill us, throughout history! How many billions do you think that makes?" He drew in a deep breath, hands clenched into fists in his pockets to keep from rending the messenger outright. "And you're sitting there telling me it's totally DESERTED?"

"Sir." She rose slowly, apparently not comfortable with the idea of dying on her knees. Having perhaps accepted the possibility, the fallen spirit looked him square in the eye and said without hesitation, "I'm telling you there are no souls to be found there, and I have no idea where they might be hiding. The place is a ghost town."

He stared right back at her, all bared teeth and eyes that quivered in a supremely unsettled fashion.

Then the _Espada's _lip quirked.

"That's pretty funny."

He withdrew one hand, shoved his fingers back roughly through his hair, lifted his face to the sky and laughed aloud.

"Actually, come to think of it, it's frigging hilarious! A _ghost town! _HA!"

Letting out another whoop of glee, Jeaguerjaques' head came down to regard the quivering mass of potential victims. They all seemed to expect him to kill them outright.

Hate to disappoint.

With that, a blue Cero flamed all the sentries out of existence, with not even enough time for them to cry out.

All save for the one who had spoken, who remained trembling before her master.

"What's your name, grunt?" the _Sexta _asked cheerfully.

"Enfain Tezima… sir." Her voice trembled only a little when she addressed him, but he was still in a good mood, so he let it slide.

"Enfain, you're going to keep quiet about this. Don't tell another soul, because if I hear anybody jawing over how there's no food here like we were promised, I'm coming after you. Do you follow me?"

"Completely, sir."

"Get lost."

She did, with an alacrity that only served to heighten the good mood Grimmjow was in. And why shouldn't he be? After all, it had been kind of boring to think that Aizen had planned this whole war out to the point where everything was bound to go his way. This right here just goes to prove that there's no such thing as an infallible being. In fact, who's to say how things are going to turn out today? I could die, I could live, but either way, I'm pretty sure I'm going to have the time of my life.

That's what he promised me, and if the big man can't deliver on that, I'll just go for his throat and see how things follow from there.

What's the worst that could happen?

* * *

"Tatsuki-chan, wait up!"

"GET LOST OR I'LL BREAK YOUR NECK, CHIZURU!"

Chizuru Honsho panted and staggered in pursuit of her racing classmate, who was pelting down the abandoned street. She had long since given up on trying to determine what had happened to seemingly everyone else in the city other than the two of them. All she knew was that one minute, Tatsuki Arisawa was being held back by two teachers from inflicting another one of her wholly unprovoked assaults on the class lesbian's face. The topic of their dispute was Orihime Inoue. Or rather, the lack thereof. The beautiful girl Chizuru had been actively pursuing for as long as they had been classmates had disappeared several weeks earlier without a trace.

And the next thing she knew everyone around them, not including the two girls, had simply disappeared. At first, Arisawa hadn't seemed to notice anything strange about this, so intent had she been on beating up the object of her frustrated wrath as per their usual daily routine. But eventually during the ensuing catfight, even she picked up on the fact that no one was trying to hold her back anymore.

A temporary truce was called, during which time the pair attempted to puzzle out what might have happened. Eventually, Tatsuki had insisted on going to someone she claimed would know what to do in this situation. With no one answering at her parent's house, and not wishing to be left alone in a world seemingly devoid of anyone else, Honsho had insisted on accompanying her, to which a grimly serious Arisawa had agreed to with minimum protest.

They had walked together down lifeless streets for over an hour. During this time, Tatsuki adamantly refused to explain to her tagalong just what might have happened or where they were going. At first Chizuru had postulated that perhaps some kind of neutron weapon had been detonated in their vicinity and they remained the only survivors. That or it was a case of alien abduction, or a time loop that only affected them. To this, the other girl had responded by calling her a fruitcake. She didn't mind. Chizuru was positive Orihime would not have discounted her ideas were she here, just one more reason she favored Inoue over everyone else.

Passing through a ratty end of the financial district, Arisawa suddenly drew to a halt and stood there without saying a word. At first thinking that they had reached their destination, her classmate remained silent to see where this mysterious informant might arrive from. But nothing happened. After a minute of anxious pleading on Chizuru's part, Tatsuki had finally consented to look at her.

At seeing the expression of wide-eyed shock on the champion black-belt's face, she had finally felt the first real stirrings of fear that day.

"Orihime!"

That was all the masculine minx had said, before she took off running. There had been no other choice but to follow.

After racing around in pursuit of her adversary for several minutes, the amorous redhead was starting to feel distinctly winded. Her legs were aching, and there was a stitch developing in both her sides. Each breath was as sharp as a knife in her throat.

In spite of this, Chizuru carried on. After all, Arisawa was not the only one focused on a goal this day. That one word she had spoken had dispelled all other questions. Every fiber of her being was focused on following this possible lead on her beloved's whereabouts. If there was any chance of locating Orihime (whom Chizuru hated to admit did share an inordinately strong bond with Tatsuki), then she was not about to turn up her nose at it. And so, the love-struck teen ran.

She had no idea where they were when her target finally drew to a halt. They might have been still in the business region of Karakura, but it was in significantly better repair than before. Clean-looking shops and the occasional low-rise apartment building rose along the thoroughfare on which they found themselves. But still, even though cars were parked haphazardly all along the street, some even looking to have collided with each other, there was no indication of any other souls about.

Drawing to a halt behind Tatsuki, trying to get her breath and possibly her bearings, Chizuru reached up and gripped the other girl's arm.

"Tat…suki…chan! What… are we… doing …here?"

There was no response at first. Instead Tatsuki cast her eyes frantically about, apparently searching for something that she couldn't find. Worry and confusion left her looking distinctly less intimidating than usual, but given their current situation, that was nothing to be pleased about. Right now, Honsho would have appreciated a little bit more normalcy in her life.

In fact, she was willing to risk a lot to have that. And so, acting on impulse she reached up, wrapped her arms around Arisawa's waist and kissed her firmly on the neck.

The next thing she knew, Chizuru was flat on her back examining the clouds and nursing a nosebleed.

Ah. That's much better.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, YOU HORNY MOLESTER?"

"Getting my bearings," she muttered back, adjusting her glasses that had been knocked askew. "Now will you tell me what's going on?"

Glancing up, she found Arisawa standing astride her prostrate form in what would have been a pretty appealing pose were it not marred by the clear anguish etched on the pugilist's brow.

"Orihime…" her attacker gasped. "She's here! Somewhere… I can feel her. All of a sudden, she just popped back into my head. So I followed it." Tatsuki's gaze went back and forth around the area. "Orihime's here somewhere. And she's scared. You gotta…"

Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and she crumpled to the ground beside the prostrate young woman, burying her face in her hands.

"You gotta help me find her, Chizuru-san!"

Still not quite able to rise yet, Chizuru watched this belligerent competition for her lover's affection as she cried her heart out.

If I were a little less devoted, I'd think about kissing her right now. But since I am…

Reaching up, she took one of Arisawa's hands and squeezed the fingers tightly.

"Okay. I'm with you, Tatsuki-chan. Let's go find our beloved Inoue toget…"

She saw it then.

"…her."

Letting go of her friend's fist, she took off her glasses, then put them back on to make sure she was seeing correctly.

Yup. She was.

"Oh, my sweet Isle of Lesbos."

"Huh?" Tatsuki sniffed, giving her a funny look.

Chizuru just stared.

"Tatsuki…"

"Yeah?"

"Look…UP!"

She did.

Both of them gaped.

Far overhead, on the edge of an office building just across from their position, there crouched a gargoyle.

It was black and white. Squatting on its perch, arms resting on its upraised knees, the monster's wings were folded behind its back. It looked somewhat human, even from this distance. Sitting so still and quiet, facing them, they might never have noticed it. Except that this was Japan, and gargoyles belonged on buildings in Europe. So that made this one kind of stand out.

Entranced by what she was seeing, Chizuru barely noticed when Tatsuki stood up.

"It's him."

There was a look of wonder on her face, mixed with several other emotions that were harder to pin down. Perhaps fear, or maybe shock. Whatever they were, obviously they weren't pleasant, judging by the way the girl's legs were trembling as though she might collapse at any moment.

"Him what?"

"The guy from the park," the entranced observer mumbled indistinctly. "The skinny white-faced one, not the big bald ape. I remember him. Said something about… me being trash. But he's different now. He didn't have wings then. Looked almost human. Not a… demon."

The two girls watched this weirdly horrific figure, which didn't appear to have noticed them down there. Neither of them could think of what to do.

And then…

"TATSUKI-CHAN!"

That single shout, coming from overhead, made everything come clear.

"O…ORIHIME!"

Tatsuki's shriek was awful to hear. The look on her face was much worse. She appeared to have gone completely insane, eyes blazing with anger. Just as the berserking beauty lunged towards the doors of that complex, Chizuru jumped up and tackled her.

"LET GO!" the maniac howled. "GET OFF ME, I'M GONNA KILL THAT BASTARD! HE'S GOT ORIHIME, DIDN'T YOU HEAR HER? LET GO OF ME!"

Struggling desperately to hold her back, Chizuru abruptly twisted, and Arisawa fell with her. Leaping atop the struggling, spitting form, she pinned her wrists to the concrete.

"Tatsuki-chan, stop! STOP, ALREADY!" Under normal conditions, she recognized that she wouldn't stand a chance of restraining the martial-arts enthusiast. Chizuru would definitely describe herself as a lover, not a fighter. But right now, her limbs were fired with equal parts terror and a white-hot passion that enabled her to exceed any recognized physical boundaries. "Dammit, quit struggling! You're not actually going to try and fight that thing? You're crazy! Look at it, that's some kind of demon straight out of hell! It might even be the Devil himself! Just what do you think you can do against that?"

In response, Arisawa snarled. Wrapping her legs around Honsho's waist, she heaved off to one side, flipping the girl as though she weighed no more than a twig. Their roles were reversed then, as the spitting madwoman leapt atop her adversary and drew her fist back to strike.

She's going to kill me, Chizuru suddenly realized. I don't believe it. Does she really care about Orihime that much?

The question was left unanswered, as a fist crashed into the side of Tatsuki's face, sending her flying.

"Pick her up, Ganju. And watch yourself, she's stronger than she looks."

"Yes, Nee-sama!"

"Hey, kid. You all right?"

Once again absorbed in the play of clouds high above, the devoted lesbian suddenly found an absolute beauty staring down at her. She resembled Tatsuki in a way, at least in the measure of casual hostility about the eyes. But there was a white turban wrapped loosely around her head, allowing untamed black locks to stick out. And that body was the sort of thing Chizuru didn't know existed anywhere outside of her own most lascivious fantasies. Gaping up at this unexpected blessing from heaven, she simply had to ask.

"Are you available?"

"Come again?"

"I'm Chizuru Honsho."

"Kūkaku Shiba. Can you stand?"

One arm extended to help her up, and Chizuru took it. There was something very odd about the feel of her rescuer's fingers. An almost liquid sensation, or maybe air; warm nonetheless, and strong. She recognized this when Kūkaku hoisted her up without any visible effort.

On her feet, the lovesick teen finally got a good look at this masterpiece of feminine perfection. She was clad in a red tunic and white skirt that still allowed a heartbreaking amount of burgeoning cleavage and long limber legs to show forth. Her left arm had a tattoo running up its toned length, but there was no corresponding mark on the right, for the simple reason that there was no right arm. While not really into body-art before this point, Chizuru found herself more than willing to change her stripes for this particular specimen.

"Can you keep it together for me, Chizuru-chan?" the booby-goddess asked in a demanding tone.

Anything for you, my lady. "Yes."

"Good." And turning around, she crouched down and cast a look back, indicating over her shoulder with a thumb. "Climb on."

Thank you, sweet angels. I knew I was living right.

Starting forward, the young woman found herself hesitating.

"Wait. What about…?"

"Nothing we can do for Inoue-chan at this time. If he was going to kill her, he would have done it by now. I'm more worried about you brats hanging around here unprotected. So then," and Kūkaku's eye narrowed with pronounced warning, "I don't like to repeat myself. Get my meaning?"

Chizuru did. Without further debate, she hooked her arms around the other woman's neck. Shiba stood up, taking her burden with her. The good arm came around and hooked firmly under her thighs. She couldn't help herself. Chizuru moaned softly, digging her knees firmly into her carrier's ephemeral waist.

"Everything all right there, Ganju?"

"Y-yes, Nee-sama, I… OWW! You little freak, no biting! Do I have to bind your mouth too?"

"Try it, you sweaty hog! I swear, when I get out of this, I'm going to pull your head off and punt it like a football! LET ME GO!"

"Let's get moving. Ganju, take the lead."

"Yes, MA'AM!"

"And we're off!" Kūkaku announced with a laugh, and took off down the road, her brother rushing to catch up and move slightly ahead.

Having experienced an absolutely torrid amount of intimate physical contact this day, more than she had known in her entire young life, Chizuru was finding herself somewhat sated in terms of bodily cravings. As such, her mind was free to ask some very relevant questions, at least in her opinion.

"Excuse me, Kūkaku-sama?"

"What?" the racing Amazon snapped. The buildings seemed to be going by extremely fast around them, but however difficult a pace she might be setting, it didn't show in her breathing, which was as cool and composed as though Kūkaku were standing still. Holding tight to this modern-day Atalanta, her admirer sought to gather her wits into their most coherent state.

"Can you tell me where everybody in town disappeared to?"

"No idea. We'll have to ask some of our buddies at Court for that information. They're fine wherever they are, trust me."

I do. Even if the next question turns up what I think it might.

"You're not human, are you?"

"Never in my life, missy. I'm a spirit."

"Oh."

"OI! Spirit-bitch!" Up ahead, tucked underneath the hirsute hulk's arm, Tatsuki squirmed around and delivered a vicious glare out of her bruised face at the female Shiba. "Where do you get off abducting us like this? You'd better take me back to where that Dracula-vampire has Orihime, or I'm going to…!"

"It's not a vampire, or a devil," Ganju panted, glancing down at her. "It's a Hollow."

"A what?" Chizuru gasped while bouncing along.

"Hollow. Fallen spirit of the dead," her transport supplied. "More specifically, that thing you saw is what's known as a _bas celik. _Ganju, give 'em the definition for that one."

Her gasping sibling, who apparently wasn't in as good a shape as his body might have indicated, strove to keep from lagging behind and properly obey that command. "Oh… right… well, it's a… thing that has… some pretty… weird historical… connotations… some of which are…"

"Save it." The clan leader ground her teeth. "This is what you get for carousing with your hoodlum buddies instead of studying. You'll pay for it later. But to answer my own question, that creature wasn't a demon, but more an Eastern European fairy-tale. The _bas celik _resembles a man overall in form and mind, but has wings and skin of steel. Its strength is greater than anything that walks, swims or flies, and its heart has been removed from its body, which frees it from death's touch. It is wicked and deceitful, but can still inspire feelings of compassion or sympathy in the pure hearts of maidens."

For a while after hearing all this, Honsho felt herself becoming sick, either from the mental images or the surroundings all blending together before her eyes.

Or it could be the thought of what they had just abandoned Orihime to face alone.

"Tatsuki's right," she whispered firmly. "We have to go back and try and save Inoue."

Her savior snorted. "We can't save her. Weren't you listening? That thing can't be beaten by anybody currently in Soul Society. We have to wait for the big guns to come back into play. But even if that doesn't work out, my friends and I are figuring out a way to deal with that Hollow and the others like it."

"There's…more of them?"

"Yeah. Lots. And things worse than Hollows. Not everybody has the excuse of lacking a heart to explain their actions. Those are the ones I'm really worried about."

Chizuru licked her lips, not liking the sound of that at all. She didn't want to think about anyone or anything more awful than what they had just seen. Feeling panic starting to overtake her, she held on tight to the nimble spirit beneath her.

"Thank you so much for saving us, Kūkaku-sama."

A grunt. "Don't mention it."

Little tighter. "I really, really appreciate it."

"I heard you the first time." She sounded irritated.

And a little tighter still.

"Kūkaku-sama?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you… open to new experiences?"

Charging towards their safehouse, Ganju's concentration was broken by a loud shout from behind him. When he looked back in concern, it was to see his sister's face throbbing a brilliant angry shade of red, the likes of which almost caused him to lose his footing it was so awful.

"_GANJU! Switch passengers NOW! This one's too grabby for my tastes!"_

"Yes, Ma'am."

* * *

"Hello? Can anybody hear me? Somebody, please, answer me!"

A lone figure walked through a town deprived of life. Her name was Michiru Ogawa, and she had never been more scared.

Karakura, the town she had lived in for less than a year, was apparently deserted. This had happened without explanation on her way back from school. Michiru was late finishing her duties in the amateur writer's club, where her latest teen romance submission had been cruelly labeled as 'too geeky' by the president. After crying in the bathroom with her plushie confidante for a while, she had emerged to find the group had disbanded without telling her. Now feeling even more depressed, the unassuming soul then gathered up her belongings and proceeded to leave as well, not noticing that her schoolmates seemed to have left all their things behind.

So caught up in her own dejection was she that Michiru hardly noticed how empty those corridors had been, even with classes long over for the day. It was only on the way back home that things started to get spooky.

Ogawa had come across a bus that seemed to have lost control and crashed over a railing. Rushing over to investigate, she found that there was no one inside. On top of this, several other vehicles were abandoned on this stretch of road. Attempting to dial the police for assistance, her phone received no response. Knocking on doors also proved fruitless, as no one was answering.

There was little in Michiru's life experience to prepare her for this. As a child she had once gotten separated from her mother at a department store, and wound up crying in a food court until a security guard came and took her under his wing. That experience had been spent sitting in a small yet comfy mall office, munching _mochi_ and sipping juice that several kind-hearted vendors had gifted her with. It had ended with a family reunion filled with hugs and tears, and was actually one of the most tender moments in her life.

No such aid came to her now, and a happy ending was the farthest thing from her mind. Instead the small, uncertain young woman had stumbled through the streets crying out for help, until she was completely lost with no idea of even how to get home.

Michiru stopped at an intersection, clutching her stuffed doll Yukimoto in an attempt to bolster her flagging courage. Normally she wouldn't dare carry him around in the open like this, for fear of being teased by girls her age or older. But that fear had become moot. She would have actually been glad to see anyone at this point, young or old, nice or scary. Being alone like this was proving far worse than any spectacle her previous timid fears had concocted.

Finally deciding on a way to go, the lost child turned a corner and proceeded to walk down it.

She didn't make it three steps before something caused her to stop.

Maybe it was just her own distraught imagination, but it almost looked like there was a form standing there in the middle of the lane. Cement walls topped by banks of grass rose on either side, and the shadows of clouds passed overhead, alternating light and dark in the space before her. Slowly Michiru grew more certain. That wavering splotch of white she saw was no mirage (although it could be a hallucination). Even when squinting her eyes and peering with all her might, though, she couldn't get the image to come any clearer. In spite of this, there settled a firm belief in her head that whatever it was, it bore the outline of a human being in some way.

Could it be a ghost?

A chill stole over her then, and she clutched her cotton-filled cohort tighter to her chest.

Just then, the image moved, in such a way that it seemed to have turned around.

And when it did, something jumped out at her.

It was smiling.

This was the only part that stood out clearly. A mouth, up where its head might have been. There was nothing indistinct about those neat white teeth, blazing forth from thin lips that stretched all around it. The rest was just a transparent blob of wavering colors, but its mouth was as solid as the stone beneath her feet.

Michiru told herself she should run. It was obvious. Get away now, before something bad happens.

'_Hel-lo there, Imouto-chan_.'

Unfortunately, her legs seemed to have lost the ability to move right then. The voice coming from that hazy figure was as ill-defined as the majority of it, little more than a whisper to her ears. Still, she didn't like its tone, however faint it may be. For some reason it made her think of the older girls at school who were always teasing her about being so short and asking when she would hit puberty. Combined with everything else today, Ogawa's terror was building up at an alarming rate.

This was only exacerbated when the ghostly grin began moving towards her.

'_What're ya doing here, little one? Didn't you go off to play with all the rest? How come yer not tucked away safe?_'

It was coming to get her. She really, really ought to run now. Instead, her panicky attempts at flight resulted in nothing more than taking a few short, scuffling steps back before coming to a dispirited halt again.

'_Maybe yer here for a reason,_' the creature continued as it drew ever closer. '_Could be you and me were supposed to meet like this. Let's us two have some fun, then!_'

Michiru backed up a bit more, shaking her head and sending her short bob-cut brown hair flying. She felt like she might start crying at any moment.

'_Aw, don't run. You're not afraid of little ol' me, are ya?_'

It was almost upon her now, and there was no use even trying to get away. Instead the terrified teen just stood there, holding onto her soft toy for all the comfort it could offer.

'_Is that yer little dollie? Is he gonna protect you? Now isn't that just adorable!_'

The spirit reached out for her.

And then she was flying.

That was all Michiru could make out at first. The wind was whipping through her hair and clothes, and looking down, she could see the city laid out below like on a map. Everything was picture perfect, even more so than those satellite photos she had seen in geography class.

Of a sudden the ground rushed up at her, and she closed her eyes with a cry, waiting for the harsh impact that must follow. Instead the sensation proved to be only mildly jarring, possibly due to the warm arms that were holding onto her just as she was hugging Yukimoto.

It finally dawned on the awestruck maiden that she was being carried by someone. Opening her eyes, she looked up.

Apparently her savior was a peeping tom of some kind, because he was wearing that traditional getup of a handkerchief over his head tied beneath his nose. But despite this obstruction, she was not so rattled as to not instantly recognize the face of her rescuer.

"Kurosaki-san?"

His face, formerly grim and determined, quickly jumped to something comically anxious.

"No, no, little girl," he spoke in a gruff, patently false voice. "We've never met before, you don't know who I am, I'm not Ichigo!"

Michiru blinked at her sweating classmate some more. "Then how do you know Kurosaki-san's name?"

"ERK!"

He gasped and cast a worried look down at her. Funny. Usually Kurosaki Ichigo scared her a great deal, but even though she should have been freaking out that he was touching her (much less carrying her), these past few weeks there was absolutely nothing intimidating about him. He looked and behaved like a completely different person, really.

"Listen, girlie," the rescue worker fumbled as he tore down the street, "No offense, but you're not as light as you look, and I'm pretty tired from running around these past few hours. So could we keep the questions to a minimum until we get back to my place?"

"Okay."

Wherever they were going, it couldn't be any worse than where she had just been. Feeling much more safe now that she had encountered someone familiar, Michiru snuggled close and tried not to think about anything bad.

For his part, Kon was simply too frazzled to even consider taking advantage of this situation. There was no assurance that last guy wouldn't come after them, seeing as how he had actually taken an interest in the girl. By the looks of him, he must have been one of those renegade shinigami captains, and that could spell trouble for their little group of refugees. The mod soul found himself immensely relieved that he had located her when he did. Kon didn't like to think what might have happened if she were left to that monster's devices. There were things worse than death, he had come to realize.

Running as fast as his super-powered legs could take him, the self-appointed savior of Karakura Town headed back to base.

* * *

Gin sniffed when the familiar face dashed in and scooped up his prey without a word, then casually unsheathed Shinsō. He watched the far-off body of Ichigo Kurosaki coming down from its massive leap, and drew back to fire.

"Shoot, Shinsō!"

His zanpakutō exploded outwards, heading straight for them. Their backs were turned to him, they'd never even see it coming.

Halfway between the target and him, something dropped down and landed on the glowing white missile with enough force to actually divert it, sending the spear shaft crashing back to earth to scrape a half-mile long furrow through it.

Ichimaru raised his eyebrows in surprise, but his smile never wavered. In fact, it only seemed to widen.

"Heya, Neliel."

The discarded _Tercera _inclined her head from atop her perch without ever taking her attention off him. "Ichimaru-sama."

At his command, Shinsō retracted without effort back to its normal length. Though a city block still separated them, he could pick out with ease that her foot was sliced neatly in half just from having come into contact with the dull edge of his hypersonic sword. However, Neliel tu Oderschvank's solution to this was to spit on the split appendage, and before their eyes, the wound closed without leaving a mark.

The former lovers then watched one another carefully.

Hefting the blade up to tap idly against his shoulder, Gin sketched her a slight bow. "The new wardrobe looks good on you."

Reaching up, his cool-eyed concubine adjusted her blood-stained attire. "You never complimented my appearance before."

He cocked a grin her way. "Call it a kindness."

"You were going to kill those two."

"Who, me? Naaah!" the rebel captain teased her. "Just gonna wound 'em a bit. What's got you all motivated to rescue folks of a sudden?"

And she shrugged. "It's a rare day when a Hollow has to save innocent souls from a shinigami. It occurred to me you might find that amusing."

Her paramour studied her for a few heartbeats.

Then he ducked his head and gave it a rueful shake. Coming back up, Gin replied, "Yer right, it is a pretty stylish sorta joke." Of a sudden, the merriment in his face dissipated slightly. "So…"

"So…"

"Guess this's your way of telling me that we're on opposing sides from now on."

Neliel's hand came down to rest on the hilt of Gamuza as she went into a fighting crouch. "So you know, I regret nothing."

"That's a real good way to die," he observed casually.

The two fighters stood there on that empty stretch of road. A wind carrying the scent of autumn in Soul Society rustled through their clothes, teasing their hair. Memories hung between them, and perhaps something more. Who could say?

Gin's eyes came to rest on her face. It remained as fearless and calm as he remembered. Then they rose a little higher, taking in the horned mask atop her brow.

At this, he sheathed his weapon and turned off to one side.

"I'll see ya later, then."

There was a measure of caution in her voice when next she spoke. "Am I being dismissed?"

"I ain't underestimatin' you, and I ain't your commander no more," he shot back. "Let's just say this here's what we owe you for that crack in your noggin."

Neliel hesitated, then warily stepped back apace, fingers reaching up to touch her bone helm. The tension of imminent battle drained from her body, although not completely. "I never blamed you for that."

"Wouldn'ta mattered if you did. I wasn't the one that fouled up. Now get going." And he flicked a hand negligently. "Yer tempting fate a bit too much."

The _adjuchas_ war-leader opened another _Garganta. _As she disappeared into it, her quiet voice came one last time. "I'm glad I got to see you again, Ichimaru Gin."

The shinigami watched her departure without concern. It occurred to him that this might be the first time anyone had said those words to him.

"Women. Always gotta get in the last shot."

Raising his head, he examined the sky of Soul Society, which he hadn't seen in months.

A wind blew once more, this time from the other direction.

Turning about, Ichimaru caught sight of a white robe flapping in the breeze.

And he couldn't help himself. It was so funny he just had to laugh.

"You know," the ex-captain of the Third division chuckled, "you might not believe it, but I always had a feeling you were in on this deal."

The observer watched him without moving a muscle. "A talent of mine. I have it on good authority that I am easily overlooked."

"Where've you been? I was gettin' impatient. Couldn't get back into Seireitei without you."

"I had to wait for Aizen's illusions of the _Espada _to engage their opponents. After that they never even noticed I left. Here."

A bundle of clothing sailed through the air, which Ichimaru caught. Upon examining it, he found they were the form-concealing raiment of the Kidō Corps. One silver eyebrow rose slightly. "_That's_ your plan? I was expectin' something mystical."

"This is more practical. Rather than trying anything complicated, we will simply slip you through the gates disguised in a group of ensorcelled mages I have at my disposal. You'll just be one more masked figure among dozens."

Gin grinned further at that comment. "You'd know all about wearing a mask, I reckon. After all, nobody'd ever suspect you, right?"

The accomplice turned away then. "Come along. We have little time as it is."

" 'Fore we leave…" Ichimaru's fingers stole into his cloak, a smile playing about his lips, "…I got a little present for ya."

His ally paused, the head coming back around slightly.

Red eyes that had been narrowed to slits opened wide. "It's somethin' I know you've been wanting for a while. You wanna see it?"

And in response…

Golden eyes gleamed.

* * *

The last of the humans vanished through the gate to Seireitei, and Kisuke Urahara slumped back with a sigh, reaching up to massage his temples.

"Kisuke-san," Tessai rumbled from behind him.

Looking up in response, the shinigami scientist took note of where the sorcerer's eyes had trained. Upon following suit, he found they were now joined by three familiar figures.

"Well, isn't this nostalgic," he lilted, whipping out the fan and giving it a desultory flick.

"More like epic," Shinji Hirako countered, his lank mass of blonde hair falling to cover his eyes. Behind the Vizard captain stood Lisa Yadōmaru and Hiyori Sarugaki, the latter of whom glowered at the world in a way that showed her feelings were not wont to change anytime soon. Ah, well. They all had to sacrifice some things they cared about to get here. One more couldn't possibly make their sleep any more troubled.

"Are the lot of you masked warriors ready to act when needed?"

"As soon as my old lieutenant's out of the picture, we'll move in." Aizen's former master grinned cheekily then. "Just hope there won't be any _vasto lorde_ waiting to pick a fight with us when we do."

"That matter is being dealt with as we speak," Tsukabishi lifted his head, adjusting his spectacles with a measure of clear warning. "Do not deviate from our goals now, Hirako-san. We are all in agreement as to what the best course of action here is."

"I never took your comforts to heart, actually," black-haired Yadōmaru spoke, eyes narrowed behind her own glasses. "It seems like if one little thing goes wrong, we'll all be on the business end of a world-class butt-raping."

"Ever the sophisticated lady," Kisuke joked, glancing over to Hiyori to see if she'd take the bait. But his old Second still refused to look at him.

Her misgivings about this venture would hopefully be allayed once things had finally come to a conclusion. Still, a few words on the subject couldn't hurt.

"Hiyori-san," the whimsical wizard spoke softly. Her eyes flickered over, probably against her will by the way they jerked right back. It was something, at any rate. "I know how you felt about her, but that's part of the past. If the chance came to execute you, you know she wouldn't refuse it. She made her decision to serve long before the two of you ever met. If it seems unfair to dump our problems on her, remember that she swore to fight them unto death. It's what they do."

The fuming pixie didn't respond with words, only spit in open contempt of his attempt at calm, logical reasoning.

Well, some things never change.

The Vizard departed soon after that, leaving Urahara with his own personal torments, not the least of which was the lingering ache that always came from being exposed, however briefly, to the sweet air of his old home in Soul Society.

_To be continued…_


	24. Fox's Prey: Killing Time

They stepped into a world that was supposed to be a haven from life's burdens. Instead, the very air clawed at their throats.

"Damn!" Ichigo coughed. Beside him, Ishida's eyes were watering, and he took off his glasses to wipe them away. Chad looked visibly shaken as well.

Standing in the midst of a group of shinigami, the mortal trio looked out past the bounds of the city of ghosts. Far off, the horizon had grown dark in a way that had nothing to do with the fall of night. Clouds roiled and convulsed like a pit of snakes, flashing purple and red lightning illuminating them from within. What looked to be four pillars of darkness rose up in a tight-knit cluster, stabbing into that charnel sky, out of which a thick potent smoke poured in the manner of blood from a wound. This miasma spread across the face of heaven slowly, seeming to bear upon their position before the walls of Seireitei.

All of them felt it, even Ichigo. But it was Chad who said it.

"Soul Society's dying," he whispered.

His words sent a chill through them. Several of the shinigami about glanced towards that tide of peril in clear dread. All had to wonder: when it broke over them, would they live to see another day?

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

Upon hearing his name, he looked over to see the crowd parting to allow Byakuya to approach them, Renji in tow. Ichigo moved to meet them, but even when they drew abreast of one another, he found it difficult to keep his eyes from returning to the swelling hurricane of their enemy's presence.

The Lord of the Kuchiki seemed as disinterested in that vista as any other. He'll probably look that way at his own funeral, the mortal warrior thought gloomily, then broke off that line of thinking as the captain spoke.

"You and your companions have been assigned positions in our battle formation. Yours is at the head of a mixed group from the Sixth, Eleventh, and Ninth divisions on the edge of the Eastern Rukongai. I will accompany you to that spot. Renji shall guide the others to their locations."

"Hold on!" Kurosaki broke in as Byakuya turned to leave. When the aristocrat's gray stare regarded him icily, he let the fire in his own eyes flame to be their match. "I know what's at stake here…"

"Then you should stop wasting time and come with me."

"…but I'd like to get a few things straight first!" With that, he planted his feet, crossed his arms and assumed his most firmly stubborn countenance.

Perhaps recognizing the indefatigable face of the man who had broken his sword on Sokyōku Hill, the Squad Six captain appeared to relent somewhat. "Speak quickly, then."

"First off," and Ichigo thumbed over his shoulder to the deathly sky at his back, "Are you sure this is the real deal? It's not just another of Aizen's tricks, messing with your minds, and he's already inside the walls of Seireitei laughing at us?"

"We got confirmation," Abarai spoke up, adjusting the expensive shades now perched atop his brow. Apparently the lieutenant was determined to face his possible death looking good. "Ever since the captains made it back, over a hundred low-ranking members from several divisions who have never seen Sōsuke Aizen's shikai or ban-kai are being employed for the sole purpose of analyzing all sectors of the battlefield from a safe position. They're reporting in constantly, and the R&D Bureau is correlating all the info and relaying it via Tenteikura. This way, we know if anything we think we're seeing out there is true or false. And just so you know, that display's for real. The _Espada _have been visually confirmed, along with their masters."

The uncomfortable way he looked then caught the eye, and when Ichigo regarded him penetratingly and the flaming-haired fighter looked away, he knew something was up. "What is it, Renji? Spit it out."

Those narrow eyes beneath tattooed brows drifted off to one side, as if unwilling to face him while delivering this next news. "We found Orihime Inoue. She's alive."

Behind him, the substitute shinigami could feel his Quincy ally tensing up, his reiatsu coming momentarily out of focus. He knew exactly what the lanky scholar was feeling.

"Where?"

"She's with the one you said abducted her. Uhh… Schiffer." Before any other questions could be put to him, Renji bulled on. "She's apparently unharmed. He's keeping her close to him. We don't know why, probably Aizen told him to. There could be more behind their kidnapping of her than he let on before. Maybe they intend to try and use her powers to their advantage."

"Inoue-san will never do anything to hurt us," Uryū spoke quietly, a cutting edge to his voice.

"She may not realize she is doing it," Byakuya interjected then. "As you must realize by now, deception and duplicity are Sōsuke Aizen's forte. But these matters must wait for another time. For now, your friend is alive. That much is clear. Are there any other concerns you wish to air at this stage?"

Yasutora stirred, breaking his gaze away from the horizon. "Where's Karakura Town?"

"There." The nobleman pointed back to where the black knives rose. "They are all centered on that same spot, for reasons we cannot guess. As my sister informed you, however, the town is uninhabited, the same for the rest of the Rukongai. Their location is far removed from danger, of that you have my word."

It had been less difficult to accept this idea coming from Rukia's mouth for some reason, but Ichigo didn't have time to argue. The explanation behind his family's perceived safety had made sense when she had given it, but was growing a little shakier in his mind as doubts and questions cropped up. Right now, it really seemed as if he had no idea where any of his loved ones might be found or what they were doing. His gaze drifted to the ground, then off to one side.

He then saw something that made him pause.

A giant was squatting beside the gate into the Court of Pure Souls, glowering off into the distance. At first he thought it was the same big-hearted brute he had defeated to gain brief entry into those walls before. But looking closely, he did not spy any large red fez atop its head, which he had to admit was the only thing about the gate guardian's appearance that stuck out in his memory. Kurosaki once again cursed his inability to clearly remember the names and faces of people he had met briefly.

But that wasn't always the case. After all, there was one person he had encountered around that same time whose title and visage were not something he was likely to forget, and that brought another question to his lips.

"What about Ichimaru?"

Glancing over, it wasn't difficult to notice the air of tension that had descended upon his two spirit allies. That was answer in and of itself.

"You don't know where he is."

The flat statement caused Byakuya to look at him in a way that turned his blood to ice in spite of his conviction to not be intimidated by the man ever again.

"We haven't found him," the captain's first officer supplied, looking as disturbed by the news as his leader. "Our scouts are scanning every inch of Karakura and the Rukongai, but they haven't been able to turn up hide nor hair of the bastard."

"Is anybody as bothered by that fact as I am?" the deceptively slender archer sneered, glancing about. "Wait." He paused, sending a keen look in the direction of the shinigami who had fought beside him in a life-or-death struggle only hours ago. "You said Karakura and Rukongai. Why aren't you looking to find him in the Seireitei?"

"Impossible!" Renji spit, and indicated the glowing red dome rising behind them. "The _Ring of Fire _has been up since before Yamamoto's strike force left, and we've had all divisions posted around the closed gates to ensure nobody got in through that route. There's no way he could have made it by without being noticed, not even teleporting or trying to sneak in under the spell of Kyōka Suigetsu."

"But you still don't know where he is," Ishida pointed out. This earned him only a grunt from Renji, but it was clear he was more disturbed by this lack of information than he wished to let on.

The war party was silent for a time. Then Byakuya turned away and said curtly, "Come." A split-second later, he was gone. Apparently the time for group debate was over.

Ichigo understood that last command had been directed at him, but he still took a moment to turn to Chad, Renji and Uryū and said, "You guys take care of yourselves, alright? Don't try to be heroes."

"That's an incredibly ironic statement coming from you, Kurosaki," Ishida deadpanned. Their towering accomplice only held out a hand, which Ichigo gripped briefly. Then exchanging a nod in parting from Abarai, he took off in pursuit of the captain.

It didn't take long to catch up. Lord Kuchiki must be moving slowly for the peasant's sake. Was it a weakness that he simply couldn't think well of the man, in spite of everything they were being asked to face together? Well, villains rise and fall, old alliances too, but Byakuya Kuchiki will always be a frustrating snob. Just one thing in his life he could depend on.

Coming upon his guide, Ichigo studied the impassive face for some sign that he was feeling the same concerns as himself. This proved to be a fruitless exercise, as the Division Six captain might as well have been out for a stroll, so cool, calm and collected did he appear.

Let's test that, shall we?

"So where's Rukia?"

Byakuya slammed on the brakes so fast Kurosaki sped by him like a bullet. Stumbling and almost falling forward, he instead managed to turn his face-plant into a swift u-turn (thank you, Yoruichi), and soon returned to the spot where the nobleman stood.

Mission accomplished. There was definitely a more pronounced dip to his perpetual frown.

"My _sister…" _notable emphasis there, "… is currently within the walls of Seireitei."

At first the mortal hero felt slight panic at the thought that Rukia might have confessed her feelings to her brother regarding Ichigo, and the heartless blueblood had quietly resolved to see that the object of his little sister's affection did not survive this coming battle. It would only take one moment of distraction, and he might feel Senbonzakura entering through his back to spear his heart. On top of that there was a brief mental image of Byakuya paying off Aizen, his _Espada_, and everybody he could lay his hands on to gang up on Ichigo during the conflict. Afterwards, he would take a grief-stricken Rukia aside and console her with expensive pastries and fancy clothes adorned with images of rabbits.

But that was ridiculous. Right?

_Don't turn your back on him._

Gotcha.

"Why? Did you send her in there to keep her safe or some crap like that? Jeez, Byakuya, haven't you seen by now that…?"

"It was _not_ by my order."

The sudden interruption was a greater indication of this man's wrath than anything else. Whatever you might say about him, Byakuya was unfailingly polite, and cutting in on somebody while they were speaking was rather rude. That alone served to worry Ichigo more than anything else right now.

"Whose, then?"

The older Kuchiki sibling glared at him with eyes like storm clouds.

"The Commander-General."

No explanation why, but a chill stole over him then.

Rukia, please be safe.

* * *

Upon emerging into Soul Society in preparation to face Aizen's army, Rukia had been somewhat surprised to find herself confronted by Chōjiro Sasakibe, the lieutenant of Squad One.

"Lady Kuchiki, I must ask you to come with me."

She had turned to her brother, whose eyes bore into the old man's face unrelentingly. After a while, he cast a glance down her way and nodded, giving his consent. It did little to allay her misgivings on whatever this might prove to be about, but the idea that Byakuya would intervene if things got bad still afforded her a certain measure of security.

And so she had trailed in the prime lieutenant's wake, through the gates of Seireitei which opened briefly and shut just as fast, along its twisting lanes and over the rooftops. It didn't take long to determine that they were moving in the direction of the Senzaikyū and the central shinigami offices that surrounded it. Her time spent languishing in that dreaded white tower made her loathe to return there once more, but she consoled herself by affirming that she would not have to come near it and they were probably just going to the barracks of the First, where official business like captains' and vice-captains' meetings was conducted.

Upon reaching the base of that complex, she was further confused when Officer Sasakibe drew back.

"I am not permitted to enter the barrier," he informed her. She had glanced to the steps ahead, wondering what he might be talking about. "Only you have been called for. Proceed with all due haste to the Commander's chambers." And then he vanished.

Pondering this matter, Rukia decided to do so while moving forwards. As she took her next few steps in the direction of the stairs, a sheet of white flame suddenly sprang up before her eyes, and she had been forced to leap back or be scorched by it. Doing so allowed her to see that the wall extended high into the sky and well past the limits of her vision on all sides. As she was just beginning to ponder what to do, a split appeared in the bonfire directly before her, in the manner of a stage curtain parting.

Not questioning, she stepped through that fissure. The walk to the other side took several seconds, as the barrier was thicker than one might have imagined. However, after coming out to safety, she turned to find it dwindling away only moments after her departure.

The dutiful shinigami then took the stairs to reach the top. Upon gaining those heights, she had paused to look back.

All of Soul Society was spread out before her. But this was nothing like the view she had experienced while being led to her execution those many months ago. Far off to the east, the sky was tearing itself to pieces under what she supposed to be the weight of spirit power held by Aizen and his Hollow generals, whom Ichigo had postulated were all at _vasto lorde _level. The rest of her kin were spread thin to cover every possible venue of attack along the walls of their home. Thinking about the bloodshed that lay in wait for all of them motivated her to stop daydreaming and continue on.

It was strange to walk alone through these unattended lanes. Usually wherever you went in the division grounds it was not hard to locate someone seeing to their duties. Now the solitary aspect of her unexplained reason for being here was beginning to unnerve the aristocrat greatly. She would have given much to have someone to accompany her, if only for a little while. But even Sode no Shirayuki seemed to have been rendered silent by their approaching peril.

At last Rukia stood before a set of vast doors emblazoned with the symbol of the First division. Reaching up, she pressed upon them, to find they gave way with no effort at her touch. Brilliant daylight cut into the darkness that lay before her. For a moment she hung back, paranoid superstition insisting she remain out in the open where the sun could warm her.

"Enter!"

That undeniable command caused her legs to snap forward of their own volition, and the tiny death god catapulted into the room, coming to a sudden stop as the doors slammed shut behind her.

The room she found herself in had tremendously high ceilings and a rather narrow width by comparison. Its walls were painted red, and the polished wooden floors shone faintly from two torches at the end of the hall, where Commander-General Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryūsai sat on his throne.

"Make haste, young one."

She obeyed, scanning the shadows in search of anyone else present. But whether by sight, sound, or reiatsu, her senses told her they were alone. A faint hope that she would find their warlord surrounded by the fabled Zero Squad already, prepared to take the field and rout the Hollow rabble, had been proven false. If Yamamoto had contacted the heavenly reserves, they had not arrived yet.

Coming before the ancient hero's seat, she made to crouch down in obeisance, but the captain forestalled her by standing up. "Come with me, now," he said, and stalked purposefully through a side door out of that room.

Following in his wake, Rukia found herself unable to speak even to ask the reason for her being here. Only once before had she actually conversed with this man, and that was when he had asked for any parting words prior to her death sentence. Then she had been able to talk just fine. Apparently it was somewhat harder to do so without the goad of impending doom to unseal her tongue.

Yamamoto too did not appear interested in having a conversation with her. He merely led the way down several dimly-lit corridors, his wooden stick tapping out a steady beat as he set a swift pace she had to rush to keep up with. Apparently wherever they were going, there was no time to spare. She reflected that with all the twists and turns of this route, it would have been easy to become lost in these identical hallways. A faint presence in the air caused her to wonder if some demon magic was being employed for just that purpose.

A turn of the corridor, and the shadows ended up ahead where a pane of light announced the end of their journey. Kuchiki and Shigekuni soon came out into a small eight-sided room with doors in every wall. She was just wondering which one they would choose, when Yamamoto stopped and turned about.

"None of these routes is the one you shall take," the venerable graybeard rasped. "They are merely illusions designed to fool the unwary, and lead them to their deaths. Instead, your way lies here."

Reaching out with his staff, Genryūsai made three swift jabs against the wall where they had just come out. Before them then, at the center of the room, a hole opened up in the floor. Blue light filled with dancing silver sparks rose from that pit. All around, the rest of the chamber had gone black, allowing only the light from below to illuminate them.

When she turned to regard him, the elder shinigami apparently had no trouble reading the question in her eyes.

"Since the time of the Gotei 13's founding thousands of years ago," the historical figure intoned, "a single key has been entrusted into my safekeeping. This item is unique in existence, owing to it being the only thing that can pierce the insoluble barrier which serves to shroud Nirvana, the land where our King resides. It has been my most cherished duty to protect that talisman."

"However, in spite of the trust that His Majesty placed within me, no man is worthy of shouldering the King's complete support. Therefore, to ensure my loyalty, my spirit was denied the option of leaving the place where the Key resides, on pain of obliteration. This prevents me from seeking out the Key myself for anything less than circumstances in which I would not be expected to survive otherwise. I cannot approach its resting place and live. Another must needs bring the artifact out of hiding, for only they can pass unmolested through the field which guards it and return intact. I know what we face this day, perhaps better than anyone. My place is in battle, to fight and die with those I must lead. Therefore, I am not permitted to squander my life here. It must fall to you."

She tried not to think about how that sounded. Yamamoto reached into his robe, emerging with a small black box that fit in the palm of his hand. Lines of gold were etched into its surface in complicated whorls and patterns that might have spelled out a language of some sorts but had no meaning to her eyes. This he held out to her. Rukia accepted it, and finding herself already moving to open the box, she glanced up at her superior for permission first.

Yamamoto nodded, and she proceeded to do so.

Within the container was a small velvet cushion, and nothing more.

"Open it again when you are within the Key's vault. There you must swear your loyalty to our King. If your heart is false in this oath, you will regret it. Are you willing to accept this burden, lady of Kuchiki?"

She blinked at him. "I…"

_Wait._

She did so.

_What's going on here? Why is he choosing you for this, of all people? From what he said, it sounded like anybody could get that key except for Yamamoto himself. What's the big idea picking out you in particular?_

I don't know. And besides, we can't be bothered to think about that now. The fighting could have started already, I have to do this.

_I don't like it. Something's wrong. How can we be sure this man is even who we think he is? _

Now isn't the time to be paranoid. What would be the point of anyone trying to trick me? It makes no sense.

_No. I've figured it out. It makes perfect sense. Yamamoto needs someone to get the Key, but he can't entrust it to just anybody, because he can't be certain who's on his side and who might be one of Aizen's supporters. Remember, he split up the Ninth, Fifth, and Third divisions out there and put them under watch by two other divisions. He doesn't want to risk the captains or the lieutenants getting hung up in something like this, because then two powerhouses would be tied up and Aizen might take that as a cue to attack and overrun the perimeter._

He's looking at me. Please, let's just do this and…

_Listen, dammit! So if he can't use someone he completely trusts, he chooses someone he thinks he can use! A member of Kuchiki nobility, who are known for obeying the rules; a person weak enough that if they fail on this little quest it won't affect his battle strategy, and also that he knows he can handle if they turn traitor at some point. A captain or even a lieutenant might pose a threat. But it's just you, little Rukia Kuchiki, the girl who went to her own execution without a single complaint because she was told to, expendable since the day he first clapped his wrinkled old eye sockets on you, and…_

ENOUGH!

The spirit cut off.

Would you have me run away from this? You are my zanpakutō. You do _not_ try to turn me from what I have decided is my duty. The reasoning you have conjectured may be true, but if I were to be swayed by it, that would be as inconsiderate a choice as the very thing you have just outlined. I am not afraid of what might happen should I die on this mission, only if I should fail on it. If he thinks me expendable, I will simply have to keep him from being proven right. Do not attempt to lessen me in any way! Are we clear?

…_yes. Rukia, I wasn't trying to…_

I know. You were just concerned for me. Don't worry. We are coming through this alive. Ichigo isn't the only one who can beat the odds, right?

_Yeah. That's right. I guess it would be pretty spoiled and selfish to say no to this, huh?_

Now we're on the same page.

_You know you sounded like Byakuya there for a second?_

Hush. We're wasting time.

With that conclave ended, Rukia squared her shoulders and looked her onetime-executioner in the eye. "Sir, I accept this task."

The scarred pate nodded in approval. Turning, the two of them moved over to the well. Rukia stood on the lip, looking over into its depths for a moment. She could see nothing down there, save for a patch of white at the core of that cerulean illumination.

Any hesitation she might have felt was quickly quashed. Without bothering to wait for another word from the captain, be it order or farewell, she stepped off into that hole and floated towards the light.

A few seconds later, the opening closed behind her, leaving Yamamoto alone in that room.

* * *

"Isn't this _exciting?"_

Ichigo glanced over. Approaching him was a somewhat flamboyantly attired death god with an orange neck guard and feathers in his eyebrow. For a moment the boy panicked, realizing that he could not remember the name of this person he had met several times before and who was one of Rukia's friends… and then he did.

"Hey. Yumi…ch-chika-san. What's up?"

Privately he had his doubts that he had gotten it right, but the man didn't correct him, only beamed in that slightly disturbing way he had.

"I was just commenting," the beauteous battler began again, "on the incredible level of interest we're all feeling at this point. There's absolutely nothing more mind-numbing than the time before a battle, when everybody's anxious and restless, worrying about whether or not they're going to die and wishing they had gone to the bathroom before and their bladders feel like they're going to explode…"

As he said this, Kurosaki suddenly became aware of his own condition in regards to that particular organ, something that had been the farthest thing from his mind just a second past. Silently he cursed that haphazard comment.

"… and then they start fidgeting uncomfortably, and checking to make sure they don't have their pants on backwards or their sandals haven't snapped a tie…"

The substitute shinigami's eyes flickered down to make sure none of those things were true in his case. Immediately he reprimanded himself for it; after all, he came out of his body fully clothed and dressed for battle. If he did so and his pants were on backwards, it would be a reflection that there was something seriously screwed up in his soul.

Speaking of screwed-up things, what is this guy doing here?

"…and then the fighting starts and all that goes right out of their heads. It's embarrassing to be a part of such wretchedly ugly post-battle behavior, actually. Which is why I decided to join you up here on top of the watchtower, Kurosaki-san. Limit my contact with the stench of others' fear, you might say."

Their fear wasn't half as obnoxious as this fellow's words. He had just been contemplating what might lie before them, and now all that serious introspection had been crowded out of his head with thoughts of laundry day at his house and a strange lecture his teacher had given their class about holding it in and winding up like some dead European named Tycho Brahe.

Why was he thinking about that now of all times? Head back in the game, dammit!

"Yumichika-san," Ichigo groused, slumping on the tiled roof with his arms on his knees, "Shouldn't you be off overseeing your own gang of fighters?"

"Why would you think that, Kurosaki-san?" Not a hint of shame in his voice.

One scowling eyebrow lifted, sensing a trap of some kind. "You're a lieutenant, aren't you?"

"What? Goodness, no, I'm no such thing. I'm the Fifth seat of Zaraki's squad." He turned a feathered purple eye on his companion. "Did you really not know that, young man?"

When all he got back was a blank stare, Ayasegawa turned away with a sigh, reclining back on his palms. "You're remarkably blind to what's around you, you know. A true warrior takes everything into account about someone he's fighting alongside. From their past to their state of dress. The latter is a reflection of a person's mind. I could tell you things about yourself just by looking at you that you might be surprised to hear."

Ichigo found himself rising to the bait before he could think about it. "Like what?"

The Fifth seat sniffed. "Well, for starters, you haven't had anything to eat for a while."

His stomach growled, and astonishment set in. Just then an _onigiri_ sailed through the air, and Ichigo caught it. Casting a disbelieving look at the other man, which was not returned, he decided not to ask, and simply took a ravenous bite of that treat.

"Second, Rukia finally confessed to you."

That bite went sailing across the roof and landed on the head of a Seventh division member below them, who was so nervous he never even noticed.

Coughing, the young fighter turned a flabbergasted look on his possibly psychic associate.

"How…?"

"The air of calm, relaxed intensity that I caught you sitting in. With fighting men, one either finds that in those veterans who have buried their emotions under years of slaughter, which you are not old enough to qualify for, or young men focused on butchering everything in their path so they can go roaring back home into the bed of the girl they left behind."

Ichigo's first reaction was to take his half-eaten rice pastry and shove it into Yumichika's mouth. This attack was preempted by the look his effeminate interrogator turned upon him. It was one of such deadly seriousness that he felt like a red-faced child being approached by a security guard after stuffing stolen sweets into his pocket.

"Judging by your relative age and reaction, I'm guessing this is the first time a woman has told you that they love you." As Ichigo was about to speak out, Ayasegawa raised a finger before his face, effectively shutting him up. "And make no mistake, my boy, she is a woman. She's lived for decades more than you, and has experienced things that combined would be enough to make you want to give up on your future altogether. That was no flighty, hormonal, dream-addled teenager who opened her heart to your inspection, it was a lady. Refined, experienced, knowledgeable, and very, _very_ sure of herself. You have been granted a first peek into adulthood, in a manner much more tender than the first time you chopped someone's head off. No matter how confident she might have appeared when she said it, I assure you that before she did so, she was besieged by doubts. But she fought, reasoned, and won past them all in order to make that declaration to you. That is strength dimwitted lunkheads like you and I could not begin to approach on our best days."

The perfumed dandy kept right on staring at him, rather hypnotic in the quiet disparity between his looks and his words, and Kurosaki could only bring himself to whisper the next question.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

And those cold amethyst eyes narrowed slightly.

"You're ugly, pigheaded, and totally without style or flair. But I am envious enough of you right now to switch places with your unmanicured human butt in a heartbeat."

Ayasegawa then smiled and looked away, back towards the approaching storm.

"Now eat your _onigiri_ and don't say anything for a while, or I might kill you."

Ichigo proceeded to do so, taking much smaller bites and darting quick fearful looks at the bizarre person sitting on his left.

* * *

When the light faded, Rukia found herself standing in the middle of a corridor crafted of black-veined gray marble. It was rather rough-looking, almost like it had been hewn directly out of the rock. Up ahead, there was a wavering viridian flame. And when she glanced back over her shoulder…

Darkness.

Staring into that gaping pit, the memory of a dream resurfaced. Standing transfixed at the opening to her brother's hospital room, while the terrible figure of Gin Ichimaru rushed silently down the length of a long dark hall to get them.

And a chill stole over her.

_What?_

Nothing.

She then turned her back on the emptiness, and proceeded towards the light.

The illumination which guided her apparently came from a pair of gray candles atop black staves whose flame burned the pure rich green of spring leaves. These implements were positioned at the far end of a tremendous cavern that appeared to be as hastily constructed as the rest of her environs. It was the size of this chamber, more than anything, that informed Rukia she was no longer in Soul Society. The secret tunnel she had entered was not connected to anywhere in her home plane, but to this sub-dimension that existed apart from her own, much the same way that the King's dimension was removed from the territories over which he held sway. That explained how something so huge could exist below the First division barracks without anyone knowing of it. And really, it wouldn't make much sense for the Key to be held somewhere a person could conceivably reach if they were only willing to dig long enough.

Revealed in the light of those two votives, there was a pair of doors that gleamed dully of bronze. Over them was a pediment bearing the kanji for _takuiyoku,_ whose definition she took to read as 'High Will,' or perhaps 'Home Ambition'. That wasn't really important. What did catch her eye were the giant solid gold guardian statues that flanked the portal. Resembling horned ogres and clutching spears, there was something about them that had the wary mystic muttering the lines of a demon arts spell as she approached.

"…ones of a beast… clashing spears fills the stronghold…"

When she was within a dozen meters of the candles, that precaution proved accurate, as without any warning both colossi abruptly lurched from their plinths and moved towards her, raising their weapons.

Here goes nothing.

"Hadō #63: _RAIKOUHOU!"_

The roar of thunder and lightning exploded from her fist and hit the left-bound giant full in the face. Its features detonated in a most satisfying manner, and the monument toppled over to the side, crashing into its mate. This impediment stalled the remaining attacker long enough for Rukia to whip out her blade.

"Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!"

The instant her weapon attained its shikai, she dipped its point into the ground four times. Drawing power from those flames of ice, she took aim and breathed the title of her attack, breath frosting in the growing cold. "Tsugi no Mai: Hakuren!"

The blast shot forth, encasing the enchanted statue from its waist up in ice. Frozen in that position, its legs continued to stumble forward, but before it could take more than a few steps, another incantation had just ended.

"HADŌ #29: HEAVY LIGHT!"

A disc of light appeared over the immobilized ice sculpture, then slammed down in a straight line, crashing through the top of its head and shattering its entire torso. Fragments fell around her, while the remnants pitched off to crash against the stone floor. Kuchiki dodged nimbly through that barrage, coming at last upon her goal.

_Short and sweet. Just the way I like 'em._

Agreed. Let's leave before they come back to life or anything like that.

As the dust of battle settled behind her, she approached the doors. Laying a hand upon their surface, Rukia felt the metal to be quite warm, responding in a way to her presence. Without further delay, the treasure-seeker concentrated, and her egress from this room slid open to either side with a low rumble, revealing another corridor stretching ahead of her.

_Are we going to have to go through different variations of precious metal juggernauts, do you think? Or was that the only one dear old Yamamoto neglected to mention?_

Did you really think there would be nothing standing between the average person and the key to His Majesty's front door? I expected something of this level or greater.

_Obviously whoever built it wasn't expecting someone like you._

Don't be overconfident. Keep an eye open for danger.

The pair of them walked between what looked like long rows of stylized indigo tree trunks on either side of them. This floor was black and seemed to absorb light, reflecting nothing back, and save for a path of purple mineral on which she trod, they appeared to be walking through a void. Only emptiness lay off to either side of the pillars. Behind her, the doors remained open, while perhaps fifty meters ahead, there rose an incredibly high and narrow opening of some kind, giving the appearance of a fissure in a rock face. This too must be another dimension, as she could detect nothing she recognized as _reishi_ coming from anything here.

Considering the undertaking she had been involved in prior to departing for Hueco Mundo, the wealthy socialite had to wonder how and when all this might have been created. While both she and later Byakuya had agreed that such a monumental effort could not be done under complete secrecy, they still exercised a certain degree of circumspection in their efforts. And considering her family's power and reputation, there were remarkably few people fully aware of just what they had managed to pull off in only a few months. But somebody had to know beyond themselves, and it wasn't like they had tried to hide it when Soifon's agents had turned up asking questions. They had simply hoped that word of it would not somehow reach the ears of those people they would really have to worry about. Like the new king of Hueco Mundo and his colleagues. That fear was the price they had to pay, since they were not willing to kill their employees to keep their mouths shut.

Rukia wondered if anyone had to die to keep this place a secret.

Passing through that silent forest, she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder, half-afraid that someone or something might be prowling after her.

But her fears proved unfounded, and so she proceeded onwards.

* * *

"Yo, Shibata-oto!"

The goldfish fell through his paper net, and the boy's heart sank. Of course, another catching implement was on hand to replace that one, but still, this was the third time. He was beginning to wonder if whoever had designed this game didn't want for him to get a pet.

Looking up, Yuichi Shibata found his adopted brother Hiroichi Hironari squirming through the crowd of festivalgoers that packed this lane of booths. Watching the other boy's approach, it still left him feeling just a tad seasick, the way walking here made you bounce slightly on the soft, cloudlike terrain. But it certainly beat bruising your knees, as he had found the first time he fell while learning the ropes of getting around this place.

Hiroichi hopped over to him, clearly not having gotten over his delight at being able to jump around with every step you took. Like a trampoline, Yuichi reflected, remembering his own experience with such toys back when he was alive.

"Check it out!" his sibling exclaimed happily. "We found a booth that's stocked with sparklers and these sticks that light up when you snap them!"

Holding up some of the objects in question that were stuffed into his pockets, Yuichi recognized the latter immediately. "Glo-sticks," he offered helpfully. "They're fun to use in tag at night."

"Well, it's nighttime in this area," the long-dead soul grinned excitedly. "We can get some of the other kids for a huge game later! It'll be the biggest game of tag in the history of the world! C'mon, I'll show you where it was!"

"Um, I kinda wanted to try and find the water-park area this old lady told me about."

"Water-park?" Hironari blinked perplexedly, clearly not familiar with the term. No surprise, they didn't have anything like that back in Soul Society, or in the early 1940's when he had died.

"It's great," Shuichi supplied, rising and discarding his already-forgotten goldfish catching stick. "You slide down loops filled with water and land in a big pool, and you float on these giant tubes and splash each other with squirt-guns and…"

Apparently his excitement was communicating better than his explanation, for Hiroichi's eyes had come aglow beneath the swinging paper lanterns. "That sounds amazing! Even better than that carnival-thing you told me about! Let's go find it!"

With that, he grabbed his friend's hand, and the two of them dashed off together.

Yuichi had stopped trying to figure out what all this might mean after the first twenty minutes, when he came upon the shops filled with all manner of sweets and treats that had signs out front proclaiming the wares were free for all. Not that he was hungry, a fact that never bothered him now that he was dead. But still, the revelation that they were actually being offered this delicious fare without having to pay for it made it seem like he had finally reached paradise.

The youngsters squirmed and danced their way through the crowd. All around them, booths stocked with games, prizes, and foodstuffs lined the paths of what appeared to be a temple shrine of some kind. The trees that still grew from this spongy terrain rustled their leaves slightly, decorated as they were with paper talismans and lanterns. Overhead, a clear sky filled with more stars than he had ever seen were accompanied by a tremendous moon that smiled down upon them. This festival land always seemed to be at night. If you moved into the forest, eventually you would come out on places that were daytime, like the beach land, or amusement park land. It was hard to say how many different areas there were to this place. Yuichi had even passed something that turned out to be a giant library when he peeked in its windows, and avoided that in favor of something more fun. They all seemed to be nestled in around one another, and he had yet to find any limit to it.

The family he belonged to had been sitting in the basement of their home in the First District of Soul Society, fearfully awaiting the prospect of an all-out war between the shinigami and Hollow, when suddenly the world swam around them. Before they knew it they were all floating on air, staring at each other in disbelief while the walls of their shelter became slightly transparent. Then it was like they had dropped through the floor, and a brief impression of falling had been replaced with bouncing up and down slightly on the soft, harmless terrain of this new world.

Their little group wasn't the only ones present. All around them, in what at first had appeared to be a shopping mall, there were absolutely hundreds and thousands of people. They recognized neighbors and acquaintances, none of whom had a clue as to what just happened.

A bit of investigating later, numerous prominently-displayed signs cast some light on their situation. The banners read as follows:

_Please do not be alarmed. Due to a state of impending war in Soul Society, you have been relocated to a temporary dimension until such time as hostilities have been resolved. We regret any inconvenience this may have caused you. The dimension you find yourself in has been tailored to meet the needs and preferences of everyone currently living in the Rukongai. Feel free to explore the surrounding areas and congregate at your own discretion. Hostilities towards your neighbors from any members of the Outer Rings will be frowned upon. We request that you do not bother our mortal guests who are currently indisposed. Please enjoy our hospitality. _

_The Management_

Whatever you might think about this turn of events, it was the unspoken opinion of everyone who read that message that the person who wrote it had beautiful penmanship.

After this, it had simply been a matter of hitching up enough bravery for all these souls, some of whom had been dead for centuries and needed to have their surroundings explained to them, to venture out into the world. Leaving the building by its exits enabled one to find directions to numerous sites of interest. Apparently this was not the only such center, as they had eventually met other spirits who related similar experiences after roaming about in search of ways to pass the time until the Great War, as they called it, might end.

As it turned out, whoever had designed this dimension seemed to have a pretty good idea of what folks might like. There had been a park where kites, sporting equipment and various children's toys like bubble-blowers and skateboards were found for anyone who might want them. Next on his journeying Shibata had wandered into an incredible garden filled with flowers of all shapes and sizes. Spying a door in a low rock wall, he peeped inside and looked out on what appeared to be the deck of a luxury ocean-liner, where hundreds of amazed and dirty-looking people were milling about or relaxing in the beach chairs provided while they listened to the soothing roar of the ocean.

Everything seemingly solid he touched was soft and yielding beneath his fingers, except for food, of course, which proved as nourishing as he remembered back in life. Refreshments that never seemed to run out were available in varieties that seemed to cater to their environment. The time of day was fixed wherever you went, so it was always around dawn at the European mountain chalet area and perpetually noon at the beach area. Wherever you went, the signs asking them to be courteous to one another and relax while they could remained.

It was a little overwhelming at first, but after they found the toy/candy area, Yuichi had decided one thing was certain. After being dead for almost a year, he was finally in heaven.

Racing along through the temple grounds in pursuit of his companion, Shibata paused when he spied something of interest. Moving to investigate, he found that it was one of the sleeping people. These figures lay scattered at various points throughout the worlds. Their eyes were closed and they appeared to be breathing, but nothing he had employed had served to rouse them. Shouting didn't work, and poking was even less helpful. Their bodies couldn't be touched. He had seen some kids his age trying to pour their colorful milkshakes all over a sleeping man's face, only to have the drinks pass right through him. They were like ghosts, floating a little off the ground and not bothering anyone.

But something did bother him about this one. It was a girl, one he thought to be about his age. She had short light brown hair and was wearing a striped shirt with tan floral-print pants and sandals. And while he couldn't put his finger on it, there was something about her that looked slightly familiar to Yuichi. For some reason, he got the strangest feeling that he might have met her from back in his days as a parakeet, during the horrific time before that bleach-haired guy and his friend Chad defeated the monster that had hunted the boy for months.

It was this thought that caused Yuichi to reach into his pocket and remove one of the lollipops he had tucked away for later, placing it gently beside the sleeping girl's arm. Even if he was wrong about knowing her, it never hurt to share. And she might be hungry when she woke up.

"C'mon, Yuichi, you're falling behind!" Hiroichi shouted from atop the temple steps.

"Okay, I'm coming!"

The child jerked up swiftly and ran in pursuit of his brother, feeling happier than he had ever been since dying.

* * *

It was kind of insulting that nothing had happened even after they uncloaked themselves. No sortie from the shinigami, not even a random lunatic charging them to be cut down. Of a certain, Grimmjow had been called upon to dispose of the occasional battle-hungry loner from his own side looking to charge at their enemies while they were all unawares. But the shinigami captains seemed to have superior control of their underlings. One more reason to feel pissed off.

And then, the granddaddy of all irritations popped up in the form of Kaname Tosen.

Squatting on a hill that gave him a clear view of the city in the distance, Jeaguerjaques glanced at his overseer when the man appeared from a _Garganta_, but didn't feel like expending any further energy to greet him. For his part, the blind death god ignored him as though he wasn't even there.

This conversational deadlock was broken when Aizen stepped through into his home dimension.

The brown-eyed visionary took a deep breath of that thick atmosphere redolent with power, and let it out with a sigh.

"I find I missed this more than I had thought. It really is nice to return after being away for a while."

"Nothing has changed," Kaname remarked. He was holding his sword, scabbard and all, in one hand, like he had been expecting some kind of assault. But from whom, Grimmjow wondered with a sneer. The shinigami, or us? If this guy isn't dead by the time the battle's over, I'm gonna be real disappointed with myself.

A mob was gathering below their summit. The worshippers, come to see the face of their god. Hundreds of Hollow masks, some broken, others simply newborn, milled about at the base of the hillock, whispering and moaning to one another.

When Aizen broke off staring at their far-away destination and looked down at them, the rabble went to their knees en masse.

Silence descended. The great man was probably going to favor them with a few words before he sent them off to die.

But to the _Sexta's _mild surprise, instead their ruler turned to regard him where he crouched. It made the _adjuchas _general just a little uncomfortable, reminding him once again that he could never tell what this inscrutable individual might be thinking.

"Grimmjow." He always made it sound like he was laughing at the name. Bastard. "I see that you are the only one of the shogun-level _Espada _to emerge alive_._" Alive, but not triumphant. Don't think I don't know what you're trying to say, you prick. "None of your ranked brethren will be joining you, I'm afraid."

Turquoise eyes narrowed up at the smiling speaker. "Yammy was still alive when I left. Where's he?"

Tosen cut in. "Wherever idiots go when they die."

Small epitaph for a tiny-brained animal. Grimmjow was done mourning the dead in the time it took Aizen to start talking once again.

"But you still have the potential _Espada_ to back you up. Although none of them have been assigned official rank, rest assured that their power is nothing to sneer at. Of course, your authority trumps all. They will obey you, since you speak with my voice." That suddenly stern face turned to look upon his amassed underlings. "I trust there has been no dissent on that point while I have been gone?"

"Nobody's dead you're likely to miss," the king cat growled, scratching at a few stains on the jawbone attached to his left cheek.

"I trust your judgment in that regard."

"Oh, and somebody named Neliel asked me to tell you thanks for everything, but she's defected."

He had felt a little silly relaying that message, but it proved to be the one thing that seemed to cause Aizen surprise.

"I see. That is a pity. Well, then," and he scanned their forested environment keenly, "if there is nothing else to discuss, we will leave you to carry out your orders."

"Actually," and Grimmjow felt a wicked thrill at the look his master gave him then, "There is one major thing that hasn't gone according to plan."

One perfectly-trimmed eyebrow raised. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Hate to break this to you, but it seems your city's deserted."

No sign of distress from Aizen. Still, he hadn't been expecting any. And Tosen more than made up for it.

"What are you saying, Jeaguerjaques?" the sightless turncoat took a step forward.

The _Sexta_ hiked a thumb over his shoulder, where the presences of the _vasto lorde Espada _were easily identifiable in the distance. "Your pack went to town like you told 'em to. According to them, there's less than a hundred souls in that whole place. Every single one of them has spirit power of some kind, but in terms of total volume, it wouldn't even be enough to fill up Yammy's skull."

"They must have been relocated to the Rukongai, then," Kaname replied a bit uncertainly.

"Nope. Bad news on that score too, Eagle-Eye. That place has been cleaned out just the same. I wouldn't wipe my ass with what's left over. Hate to break it to you, but other than the army of shinigami, your old haunt is a…" and he smiled hungrily, "…ghost town."

He could feel Tosen's rage building, and shifted into a better position to receive it. True to form, though, the boss stepped in to make peace.

"That is very interesting news, my dear _Espada_." He looked like he meant it too. Aizen's absorbing oak eyes were gleaming in a way that reminded his servant of a cat cornering a mouse. "I certainly wasn't expecting something like this upon returning. Yamamoto is more worthy of his title than I ever believed. I never thought to find him so unsure of his strategy that he would have taken safety measures for Karakura in case it failed. A most ingenious tactic, if I do say so myself." The aspiring king paused, and a knowing smile crept across his lips. "Or perhaps I speak out of turn. Something this wide in scope, this daring in execution, requiring vast resources and savoring of a concern for all souls regardless of their worth; it doesn't quite ring true to the old man's character. It could be that another worthy adversary has dealt their hand in to oppose my perceived goals. So many people do not wish for me to gain possession of a Key. It's really quite…"

Sōsuke raised his hand, giving a flick of the wrist. As he did, a large pearl appeared in his palm as though by a conjurer's trick.

"Laughable!"

And he proceeded to do so, letting the sound of his rich, honest mirth echo through that forest of monsters.

* * *

The fissure through which she walked was long, but upon exiting it, Rukia found that she had apparently reached her destination.

Her steps brought her out into a rounded cathedral. Walls and ceiling were one in a perfectly hemispherical dome. There were what appeared to be burial vaults set into the gray stone, small ones, all up and down its surface. No way to tell if anyone was actually in them, but she couldn't suppress a shiver at the thought that this was the graveyard of those laborers who had striven to construct the Key's resting place, little realizing they had been building their own. Was there more to it, though? Could this also be what became of those luckless souls who had been sent to retrieve the precious artifact in the past? Might there be a spot in those hollows reserved for her?

Rukia forced herself not to think along those lines. Instead she continued her journey forward. There was more to this treasure chamber, much more. Spreading all around her was a lake of pure gold, glowing with a radiance that was the only light to be found. It lent a slight yellow cast to everything in the vicinity. The path she was walking upon now was like a jetty of stone cutting through the lake, rising only slightly above the lip of those depths and ending in a broad circular plinth. A tide of wealth lapped gently just a few feet away from her as she proceeded to that spot.

Upon reaching the center of the round peninsula, Rukia stopped and withdrew the box from her robes. There was nothing else to see here. Without this, she might have stepped into the water looking to investigate those stacked graves all around. But her instructions had been clear. And so…

"I pledge myself…" her voice sounded soft as she opened the box, but she was confident in her resolve, "…to the service of the King of Soul Society."

Immediately, a ripple went out along the surface of the lake from where she stood. Reaching its limit, it stopped, clearly hovering right at the wall's edge. Then it pulled slowly back, and as it did, it brought the liquid metal with it. The bottom of the pool was revealed, perhaps only an inch deep, no more. A wave began to rise all around her, and Kuchiki whipped about, both astonished and anxious from this display.

The crest grew higher, reaching above her head. That flowing mass of gold began to arch inwards at the top, and when it was thrice the height of her own body, it quickly pulled in. Petrified, the death god stood absorbed as the wave's edge gathered overhead, cutting off her view of the ceiling save for a tiny hole, and then rushed down in a spiral of glowing metal, straight into the black box she still held out for it.

The light was so concentrated she had to turn her head away. Cracking an eye, Rukia caught a brief glimpse of her warped reflection in that twisting mirror of metal. And for a split-second, she could have sworn there was someone standing behind her in the image. But when she turned her head to look, this proved false.

As Rukia came back around, the last of the golden pond had risen up and traveled along its destined route to funnel into the box. The light was contained now within its velvet confines, shining off the form of a four-pronged golden key that emitted an aura almost alive with power.

Staring down at this radiant object, face aglow with its splendor and her own triumph, Rukia found herself thrilled. The sight of it was making her heart beat fast. So beautiful; exquisite, really. This belongs to a king, without a doubt.

The King's Key.

This is it. This is what's going to save us, the very thing Aizen would have killed all of Karakura to get his hands on. But he won't get the chance. I've put his sacrifices where he can't reach them, and we've got the only one in existence now.

She stared at the priceless treasure held in her hands, absorbed in its promise.

When a pair of arms reached around her, it took a moment to realize this.

Before she could react, a spiritual presence that had not existed before made itself known. When Rukia recognized its scent, she found herself quite unable to move.

Wide lavender eyes stared uncomprehendingly as two hands extended out from white sleeves and slipped over to encase her own. The fingers were very long, almost bony, and her skin prickled where they touched. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Only a quick, shuddering breath. Rukia's heart wasn't beating fast anymore. Instead, if felt close to stopping altogether.

Those fingers stroked over her flesh, gently caressing, before sliding up and slowly closing the lid of the box on its contents. A soft click came, echoing in that spacious chamber, and the light of salvation faded from her view. The only thing left was the sound of her unresponsive heartbeat.

And a voice in her ear, one that made a sob well up in the girl's throat.

"_Ohayo, _Rukia-chan."

Slowly, against her will, she craned about to view the face behind her.

But all she could see was a smile.

* * *

"What are they waiting for?"

Sitting off by himself well above the press, Uryū heard a shinigami ask that question for what felt the hundredth time. Concentrating on inspecting his cache of weapons, he chose as always not to speak, letting one of the man's comrades offer another explanation.

"The Hollows are probably getting unruly with nothing to eat. They have to calm their forces down before they can order them to attack."

Actually, a berserk starving Hollow would probably be as dangerous, if not more, than a calm, sated one. Especially if all you were doing was pointing it at a tight-packed group of shinigami and letting it loose. The closest analogy Ishida could come up with was bowling. Of a sudden he pictured Sōsuke Aizen in one of those short-sleeved button-up shirts with the words 'Big Boss' printed on the back, picking up a bowling ball that had a Hollow skull emblazoned on it, taking his stance and then launching that missile down the lane at a row of tenpins all dressed in black robes and clutching zanpakutō.

STRIKE!

The Quincy glanced over at the milling ranks of death gods. They were clearly anxious, but none of them seemed to be panicking. That's what comes from living under a martial system, he supposed. It's pretty disgusting unless actual war roles around. Then it serves to breed good discipline in those about to die.

Inoue was alive.

The thought had been caroming around in his skull for the last half-hour. Before it had been a prayer. Now it was a fact. She was alive, but far from safe. That creature, Ulquiorra Schiffer, had her. Heaven only knew why, though he had suspected for a while now that the Hollow had taken her in order to heal the injuries Ichigo had inflicted on it and prevent her from doing the same for them. It had been an appreciable strategy. If he didn't loathe the undead thing so much, he might even admire it for its cold, calculating efficiency. That one clearly knew they were fighting a war, and didn't do stupid things like leaving dangerous enemies running around. In the meantime, taking a place on the front line of combat between two opposing armies was looking more and more like it might be the dumbest move he had ever made in his brief life.

"_You must swear to never have anything more to do with shinigami and their associates."_

Yes, Ryūken, I know I promised. And right now, I am trying to convince myself that this is what I have done. I refused to accept a place in their ranks, choosing instead to pick a spot where my skills would be most applicable. Renji hadn't seen fit to argue the point when Uryū stipulated quite clearly that he was acting independently from the Gotei 13 and would not be accepting any orders from them. Whether from respect or the fact that he didn't care what happened to Uryū. It was not for him to decide how a Quincy fights his battles. I learned a lot from our time in Hueco Mundo about what we're facing. When the time comes, I…

I've got to save her.

Orihime had been a prisoner of those monsters for weeks now. And just when she had been kissed by the first taste of freedom, it had been snatched away. He understood how much pain she must be in right now. Undoubtedly she still believed Ichigo to be dead. And that was a good thing. Because that way, when the fighting started and it proved to be false, Inoue might not be the only one taken by surprise. By now, Aizen must have heard from Ulquiorra that the _ryoka_ boy had been killed. With all these shinigami and captains across the field, it would be impossible to pick out one person's presence regardless of how inept they might be at concealing it. And in spite of his personal opinion of Kurosaki, it had been made very clear to him on the top of _Las Noches_ that he was the only person who stood a reasonable chance of defeating the remaining _Espada_, and quite possibly even their leader.

Of course, even if Ichigo did take on that hellish beast form once more, there was no guarantee he wouldn't wind up butchering his own comrades. Ishida knew from experience that wasn't outside the realm of possibility. And he also knew his own comparative strength. If Ulquiorra had been any example, the top three _Espada_ were at a level that went far beyond mere shinigami captain (an idea that he had to admit had seemed farfetched when he started this trip). So when the battle was joined, and the major players entered the fray, a self-respecting free agent like himself could circumvent the need to fling himself at those monsters in the vain hopes of drawing their attention for a second, the way all these sword-swinging barbarians seemed to be thinking, and focus on other pursuits. Namely, locating Orihime and getting her safely away from here.

It was really the only way he could think of to make himself useful. He had attempted to challenge the _Espada_ once before, and found himself sorely lacking. These new ones were far beyond his ability to injure, much less defeat. And Uryū was not so short-sighted to risk his life in a conflict he knew he couldn't win. That was something more up Chad's alley. He knew it was cruel of him to think it; perhaps it was his own bitterness at being shown up (not just in front of Orihime, that played no part in his thinking at all).

He just wanted to be of some practical advantage in this fight.

Sitting atop a building in the Northern district of Rukongai, the star student pondered how best to accomplish this. He had already discarded the idea of trying to sneak over there and rescue her himself. But once her captor was distracted, Orihime's safe rescue could be accomplished by a crafty and resourceful individual. Urahara and his 'Vizard' (whatever those might prove to be) would probably be the safest place for her right now. Afterwards he could return and…

There was a whine and a flash, and the next thing he knew Uryū was tumbling to the floor, silver tubes and magic apparatus of all sorts clattering all around him.

What in the name of…?

"Hello, Quincy!"

Two things became clear to him then. One, he seemed to be sitting in a room made entirely of gold. Gold pillars, gold walls, even the sofa appeared to be gold-plated (useless as that might render it).

And two, he was not alone. Mayuri Kurotsuchi was sitting at a golden desk with his daughter standing attentively beside him.

Immediately the archer dove off to one side, his bow flaring into being as he took aim. He was prepared for this. Always Ishida had recognized that the Twelfth squad captain remained his most dangerous nemesis despite their mutual enemies. While a sensible person would have concluded that Mayuri would forestall any thoughts of avenging himself until after the fate of Soul Society was decided, a smart person would have recognized that the shinigami scientist was a hardcore loony who didn't believe in things like sense. This right here was clearly his attempt to take advantage of the confusion before the battle to try and enact retribution.

Aim for the head. He did so, and fired.

The shot bore down on its target. A few inches away, however, the blue bolt of spirit energy simply stopped. Then it zipped in a circle around Kurotsuchi's head a few times, and vanished in a sparkle of reishi.

"Oh, come now. This is _my _domain," the smirking surgeon informed him. "No weapons can be turned against me while I am in it, it was unforgivably obtuse of you to think otherwise. And speaking of inferior intellectual leaps, if you think I brought you here just to kill you, you're mistaken."

Crouching with a few dozen sorcerous artifacts ready to be deployed, the young avenger paused in his preparations. "Oh, really?"

"Yes!" Captain Kurotsuchi then got up and moved over to stand before him, hands behind his back in what for anyone else might have been a non-threatening posture. Of course, those words simply didn't apply to this man. "In fact, I have brought you here to grant your greatest wish."

"Your head on a spike?"

"Disrespectful whelp!" Mayuri spat, black brows lowering over his crazed eyes. "I mean I'm going to actually make you useful in this war! A term that at the current time doesn't apply to you in the slightest! Doesn't that sound nice?"

Without further ado, he turned and stalked off. Watching the psychopath's departing form, Uryū flicked a glance over to Nemu. Her appearance was unaltered, but for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that she was looking at him with disapproval. This more than any attempt to console him on Mayuri's part got the Quincy out of his combat stance and moving towards his jailer (host?).

The captain's daughter joined him after a few moments. Her eyes were fixated straight ahead where her parent was fiddling with some kind of locking mechanism on a door. Finding himself in somewhat more approachable company, the teen leaned over and asked her a question he felt ought to be brought up.

"Why is this room covered in gold?"

Before she could respond, the captain's head snapped around, a most disturbing grin causing his gums to protrude around yellow teeth that conceivably might have been gold-capped.

"Because I could!"

He then went back to his efforts, tracing odd lines across the doorframe and tapping out combinations. At this point, Nemu finally spoke. "Mayuri-sama is currently in possession of more funds than even he knows what to do with. Since he dislikes to see our division's account books not in the red, he has decided to employ any efforts imaginable to deplete those funds. Currently, he has not been successful."

What kind of idiot would give Mayuri Kurotsuchi a fortune to squander, Ishida wondered? It was a miracle the shinigami army wasn't pocketed with mutants and cyborgs by now. As he was imagining this scene, however, the resident maniac had apparently completed his proceedings and drew back.

Expecting the door to open, Uryū was surprised when instead, a small hatch in its surface flipped out, and onto this extension there slid out a glass container about two feet in height. Suspended in a bubbling yellow fluid within was a grotesque-looking creature that looked to be composed of a head attached to a fat flattened eel's body. Long silver hair floated around in the concoction. It had no mouth and its eyes were closed as if in sleep. Sweet dreams were the farthest thing from his mind when looking at this abomination, though.

"Now," Mayuri snickered as he turned back about. "Before you start with anymore of your asinine questions, I will plainly state that I need your help in order to discharge my obligations."

"Help. _You._" His tone made it evident that he found such an idea beyond the realm of preposterous.

"You've grasped the fundamentals, I'm glad to see. But let me be abundantly clear: your debt to me has yet to be repaid, and owing to that, I have been pleased to devise a method whereby you can not only discharge that debt but also manage to make a difference against our more powerful enemies."

"If you're referring to healing me earlier…"

"I most certainly am not!" The antisocial misfit's face contorted into a perversely lofty expression. "I am referring to the injury you inflicted upon me during your first visit to Soul Society."

The memory of that day, and what had been revealed to him on it, caused the Quincy's eyes to narrow behind his glasses. "By which you mean, my attempting to kill you for what you did to my grandfather."

"YES! What else would I be implying?" He seemed to grow calmer then, though not without effort. Reaching out, Kurotsuchi laid a hand atop the capsule, running his fingers up and down it in an eager fashion. "Now, to be fair, you are not the only one who is beholden to someone at this point. Shortly after that event, I was contracted by certain parties to concoct a strategy that would be capable of delivering critical if not life-ending damage to spiritual entities that boasted power of a captain's level or higher. When I consulted my earlier research into such a subject, I determined that there was one possibility that clearly was heads-and-tails above the rest."

Rapping his knuckles against the glass, the living affront to nature beamed like a kid receiving high marks at school. "In a way, I am obligated to your species for the idea. The nature of a Quincy's powers derive not from emanating energy from within their souls as in the case of shinigami, but extracting it from their environment to build up adequate levels to perform attacks and defense. In this manner, your race can draw upon sources of high spiritual condensation in order to bolster your fighting capabilities to levels that would otherwise be beyond that of any human. In fact, we shinigami, by our very natures, represent something of living batteries for your kind, provided we are actually willing to part with our reiatsu." Mayuri sniffed then. "I believe you attempted something along these lines the first time you encountered a _Menos_, correct?"

The memory of his challenge to Ichigo, and the resulting chaos that had ensued, caused Uryū to frown in displeasure. His careless actions that day had almost resulted in the loss of lives, something he had sworn on his soul to never permit again. "Yes. I encouraged Kurosaki-san to lend his immense powers to my bow so that we might have a chance of driving it off or killing the creature. But he opted for his own dimwitted battle strategy instead, one that miraculously turned out to be effective."

"The relative stupidity of your tactics is evident. However you might have deluded yourself at the time, there is no way you could have drawn in a sufficient quantity of power from Master Kurosaki to lay the _Menos Grande _low without frying your spiritual center in the process. Despite your notable abilities as a Quincy, you simply lack the capabilities to handle the collected strength of a captain."

For some reason this reminded him of his father, deriding his son's skill as a Quincy as immature at best and pitiable in reality. Correlating these two men only further darkened his mood, and so the young man snapped, "Could you get to the point? We have a war to fight, in case you've forgotten."

"Your inadequacy as an individual _is_ my point." One long-nailed finger reached out and pricked his chest sharply, and Uryū had to resist the urge to slap it away. "But that is where I come in! While ill-advised, the strategy you undertook that day is not beyond the scope of consideration. If supplied with enough raw power, a Quincy just might prove to be the ultimate weapon, capable of reaching a destructive potential that even a _vasto lorde _could not ignore. Still, as I said, no human spirit could withstand such an influx of power without collapsing in on itself. Unless he were to use… this!"

With that, he indicated the sleeping entity in the jar. Mastering his revulsion, the teen's dark blue eyes studied it more closely. "And this is?"

"The fulfillment of my oath!" Kurotsuchi crowed. "A special life-form which, when joined to a Quincy, would enable them to use captain-level shinigami as a power source and unleash a force of devastation that could wipe out our Hollow marauders and their masters! I call it _Toutoi Mimizu!"_

One black eyebrow rose. "Exalted Worm?"

"That's what you will become, once I've attached it to you."

Ishida leapt back, his bow manifesting once more. "If you think for one second I'm going to be the subject of one of your experiments, you're less sane than I ever gave you credit for!"

The captain did not appear to be offended by this declaration. More like honestly surprised, as he tilted his head to one side and regarded the youth with wide eyes. "Why not?"

"Why _not?_ Because I don't trust you! Because I would probably wind up dead if I did! BECAUSE YOU'RE…!"

"What other use is there for you in this battle?"

The question came out so quietly, and he was screaming so loudly that it almost didn't register. But it did. And it paralleled his own earlier thinking so much that Ishida shut up immediately.

Watching his reaction, Mayuri grinned. "Not so stupid after all, are you? Clearly you've recognized by now that your contributions to our war have been minimal so far. And if nothing changes, they will remain that way. Oh, you might pick off a few _Gillian_ and possibly even a weak _adjuchas _with that chaotic contrivance you're clutching. But if faced with Kaname Tosen, or a _vasto lorde_, you'd be dead before you could complete a heartbeat." He moved back to the waiting capsule. "But not with this. Under my care, you could become a force to be reckoned with. A true secret weapon. Why, dare I say it, if you agree to this venture, you might actually wipe out Aizen and his army before Zero Squad ever arrives! Even if you died, wouldn't that be something worthwhile to write on your monument? Far more than anything else you've accomplished in your life up to this point, I imagine! So what do you say, Quincy? Would you like to be the hero for once?"

He's baiting me. Using my insecurities against me. He's a monster, playing with people's lives and emotions for his own twisted purposes. This isn't even about winning the war for him. He just wants to test out one of his damnable inventions. Doesn't matter if we succeed as long as he gets some data for his research. I know this man. And he's evil. Even if he uses it for our benefit, it's still evil. I should kill him right now.

Ishida stared into the smiling face of everything he loathed in this world.

'_Would you like to be the hero for once?'_

The hero… saves the girl. Every time he had tried before now, whether with Rukia or Orihime, he had fallen short. That shouldn't have bothered him, because in the end, they both came out of it alive and unharmed.

But it did.

They were saved, but not because of him. Not because of anything he had done. For all that he had accomplished this last year, he might as well have just stayed home and kept on picking off weak Hollows, flattering himself at being the protector of Karakura. Ishida Uryū, the Last Quincy, saving the souls of men and women.

What a joke.

"I suppose I could at least hear you out," Ishida deadpanned, striving not to let his feelings show. "After all, it's not like anything important is happening now, is it?"

* * *

Smiling, Gin plucked the box out of her hands and slipped it into his coat. After that he just looked at her, gazing up at him with eyes so wide and face so pale. A phosphorescent glow coming from where the golden lake had once been allowed a blue light to play softly over her features. It lit them from below. The rest of the room was filled with shadows.

Nobody, absolutely _nobody_ feared him quite like Rukia did. No surprise, she was his girl, after all. But that didn't make it any less intoxicating. The way she responded to him, the way her body tensed whenever he touched her or even drew near her. Every shiver, every shallow breath told him that this child recognized him for what he was, and keeping herself from screaming out a warning to the world was tearing her apart inside.

Gin absolutely loved the way he felt when she looked at him.

"Yer lookin' a bit surprised to see me, Rukia-chan."

It's not an illusion, little one. It's really me this time. Can you feel it? Oh, of course you can, you know me by now. Even Aizen can't fool you anymore when it comes to that.

"Ya shouldn't be. I've been right behind you ever since you opened that barrier around the First division headquarters. Was waitin' for whomever Yamamoto decided to bring in. Who would've imagined it would be you, huh? I'm almost tempted to believe in fate. Almost." And he reached up to brush her hair. Through the back of her shihakushō, he could feel her pulse quicken. Yeah, that's the way. Nobody does it like you, Rukia. "You don't believe me?" Ichimaru inquired teasingly, though she hadn't done anything to imply that. "Now that ain't nice. There's things about me you don't know, Rukia-chan. I got ways o' keepin' folks from sniffing me out that nobody's ever heard of. Cuz I'm special, ya know?"

As evidence, he drew upon his second skin, the last lingering remnant of his past power that had followed him to this world, and draped himself in it. Gin knew that his overpowering reiatsu had disappeared completely from her senses by the way her shivering changed. It made him smile, while behind his eyelids, the color of his eyes had switched from red to blue. Not that she could see it. Though not completely certain, Gin had come to conclude that this particular aspect of his being was something similar in nature to the color of his eyes. And that was owing to the manner in which Rip Tease had died.

Eventually, he had figured out that the shinigami who killed that Hollow had done so using a zanpakutō whose master was already dead. As such, the blade too was rendered spiritually void. Though wielded by a shinigami, being killed by such an implement prevented the death god's spirit from completely erasing Rip Tease's spiritual trespasses. As a result, he existed on some previously unheard-of level as a Hollow, as well as the shinigami he was meant to be. This was a fusion that went far beyond what the Vizard or _arrancar_ could achieve. There is no monster in me.

The monster _is _me!

As it turned out, an unintended side effect of this was that he had no inner Hollow to call out, something Aizen had been surprised to find when he attempted to use the hogyōku on Gin as he had Tosen. This meant that there could be no power boost for him. That shinigami who performed his sending long ago had seen to that. Ichimaru had suspected as much for a while, and didn't really care to confirm his master's guesses as to why this was so. After all, he hadn't gotten into this gig for power. And everybody had secrets.

What he was really curious about, what he was just dying to know, was whose secrets was Aizen protecting?

Over a century ago, he had been confronted in the night by a mysterious figure who recognized his power. That creature had tempted him to join the shinigami academy, even facilitating his entrance. They had promised to find him when he got there. But even when he first met Sōsuke Aizen, and recognized this man to be the one he was meant to encounter, Ichimaru knew that this wasn't the person he had spoken to back in that ruined manor.

That spirit had felt much like his. And ever afterwards, he could always sense it hiding in the shadows, being careful not to reveal itself to anyone else. He knew, however. One could almost say they could smell their own. That might have been what had drawn him to that abandoned castle ages ago, and what had attracted its previous occupant to him as well.

Still, the time for hiding was past, at least for Gin. Kidō could have concealed him just as well, but it was capable of being disrupted, specifically by death-stone like the kind you found in some of the walls of Seireitei. Or flat-out seen through by other masters. So instead he had chosen to use his own methods, cloaking himself inside of shadows and passing into Rukia's when they had touched. It was no longer possible to assume any form he pleased, but this much he was still capable of doing. On the way through this sealed dimension, he had checked to see if it was possible to form a _Garganta_ to get out of here. And it was. Like any stronghold, it was designed to keep people out, not to hold them in. That had been good to learn, it meant he would not need to risk challenging Yamamoto by going back the same way he came. He could simply skip right to where Aizen would be waiting for him.

And speaking of which, perhaps it was time to get going.

"I'd love to stay and chew the fat, but there's friends waitin' for us on the outside. Don't wanna hold up the party, after all."

Seeing her like this, all lost and confused, the ex-captain regretted not being able to take her with him. But he had his orders. The king's plans were not to be disturbed, oh no, not for anything. Well, unless the king felt like it. Pity. He really would have liked to play with her a little more.

Maybe later, after things had died down. When she would be able to appreciate what he had to tell her more. Now _that_ was something he had been looking forward to for years.

Ichimaru molted out of his soul skin. When her breath hitched at the return of his presence, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, as he had so many times before.

"I'll see ya real soon, Rukia-chan."

Then he turned and walked away.

* * *

Rukia watched him go.

It's all over.

He's got the key. Aizen wins. He's going to invade Nirvana, and kill the King. He doesn't even need to bother with Karakura Town anymore, or even us. Everything we've tried to do to prevent this was for nothing.

Because of me.

She stared at that white robe dwindling into the distance. So like a captain's. The mark that let you do whatever you wanted.

Except…

He wasn't anymore.

Kuchiki shuddered. And she thought.

If I let him go, people will suffer and die needlessly. Because of him. It's not the first time. I've allowed this man to walk away from crimes I know he committed a hundred times now. But that was different. That was when he was a respected figure in this world. A captain. A leader. The Council of 46 stood up for him. They excused every single wicked thing he did, without ever consulting us. But those people are dead now, aren't they? In fact, he's the one who killed them. They can't protect him now, with their proclamations and dismissal of charges. It's ironic, really. I thought about this before. The white cloak doesn't protect any of those three now. If they commit a crime, they have to pay for it. It's the law. What Nii-sama says we uphold with our lives. All it takes is for someone to step forward and stop them. Anyone.

Even me.

It has to be me.

She reached for Sode no Shirayuki's hilt.

But I'm scared.

Her fingers stopped moving.

I'm scared of him. He's bigger than me, he's stronger, faster, more powerful. And he's evil. Worse than any Hollow I've known, Gin Ichimaru is totally and completely evil. And what am I? I'm hesitant. I'm small. Weak. Well-trained, yes, but weak all the same. Skilled in kidō, that's something, but nothing really special. Momo-sensei said I'm good, but she's just being kind. I'm pretty quick, too. Not just footwork, but thinking. Yumichika's always complimented me on that (along with my eyes, my skin, my nose and hair, heck, pretty much everything about my appearance). And I'm pretty handy at combining those skills. Nii-sama told me so once, I couldn't believe he actually said it, I could feel my face getting so red. But even before I met any of those people, there was Renji, laughing with me, following me, doing what I told him to get away from bullies…

'_Is that the way you want to live, Kuchiki-san?'_

What?

'_Lettin' the bullies have their way because they're stronger and faster than you?'_

Sode no Shirayuki? Who said that? I don't remember.

No reply came from her zanpakutō.

'_Never speaking out and trying to change the problems you see, for fear that you'll be stepped on and cast aside, with no one to protect you?'_

Rukia didn't know who had spoken those words to her or when, but they caught her attention now. She stared at Gin's retreating form. In spite of the cold she was feeling, her skin was drenched with sweat. Just like the first time she ever laid eyes on him, when the leader of the Sixth met the leader of the Third.

No. He's not a leader. In fact, he never really was.

He's just a bully.

A sick, vicious, horrible bully who likes to torture people weaker than he is.

And I…

Her fingers finally touched the blade.

I am Rukia Kuchiki, a death god and noblewoman. No one has the right to look down on me anymore. And I won't give them a reason to now.

The sword came out of its sheathe. She didn't stop to notice how the spirit that formed it had not spoken once since _he_ appeared. It hardly mattered. Rukia didn't need any more encouragement right now.

Instead she spoke the only words that mattered.

"Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!"

* * *

Just as Gin was about to step into the corridor leading from that chamber, a wall of ice shot up before him, blocking his path.

He paused, considering that obstacle without turning around.

A sword sheared through his neck.

"Well, waddaya know?"

Reaching up, the silver-haired delinquent rubbed a hand over his throat. That old phantom pain. He hadn't felt it in the longest time. Not even when Rangiku had placed the edge of her soul cutter to his throat. That told him she had no intention of killing him that day. It had truly been a wonderful feeling.

This was nothing of the kind.

Coming about, he regarded the grim-faced butterfly standing back where he had left her. She actually had her sword drawn on him. Will wonders never cease?

Then Rukia surprised him even more.

"Return that key to me or _die!"_

There was a world of venom and rancor in her voice. Like everything she had kept bottled up throughout the years was finally coming to the surface. It honestly sounded like she wanted him to resist, just for the chance of cutting him down as a result.

He observed the girl he first met over a hundred and fifty years ago, holding a sword and looking to murder him.

Yes. That's the way, Rukia. That's how you deal with the ones who scare you.

You kill them.

And Gin smiled.

Don't scare me now, Rukia.

"Yeah," he chuckled, rounding about to better take her all in. "You're right. You're absolutely right, Rukia-chan! It was rude of me to run out on you like that. This here's no chance meeting by accident. You and me, we were _meant_ to be together like this. I feel stupid for not realizin' it earlier. Forget Aizen and Yamamoto and all those slobs lookin' to slaughter one another. This is our time. Just the two of us together, cheek to cheek, dancin' our lives away."

She had never looked more fabulous.

And with that, he started towards her.

"You listen here, Rukia-chan," he sang, happier than he had felt in months. "Don't you dare disappoint me, now."

* * *

Upon returning to Soul Society, Kenpachi Zaraki had been surprised to find all of his division members slightly tipsy but nonetheless eager to fight. Not that he had forgotten the promise he made them before leaving, but he had expected some of the newbies to not take him seriously. Apparently his more experienced soldiers had disabused them of that notion. Well, so much for letting off steam on his own men.

Too bad. He could have really used an excuse to kill somebody right now.

The bell-clad ogre was lying atop a mound of rubble. His boys had erected it in order to give him a better view of the enemy lines. He supposed it was meant to be thoughtful, but seeing all that mass of killing reiatsu inching its way towards him was slow torture. He would have been more comfortable if they dug a hole and buried him. Now, there's a thought. He could wait for the first line of Hollows to get close, then burst out and rip into 'em!

Nah, that would just mean more waiting when the order to attack was given. Being forced to hold back when those three bastards and their shitty little war party were standing right over there was already causing Zaraki to lose whatever sanity he might have had. What the hell was Aizen waiting for, anyway? According to His Sweetness Byakuya Kuchiki, Karakura Town was deserted, so it wasn't possible for them to make the Key like they wanted. But if that was the case, why hadn't Sōsuke just decided to forget all that nonsense about magic and souls and just attack them already? Could he not react if one of his perfect plans went south for the winter? And when the hell was that droopy-eyed old pecker going to finish all _his_ mumbo-jumbo and bring his precious Division Zero in, anyway? The Eleventh squad captain remembered a few of those individuals who had been promoted in his time. He also remembered that he had never been impressed by any of that crew. Who the hell abandons the thrill of the kill to loiter around in some comfy prison and clean a king's bedpan? Didn't seem to jive with what he considered a shinigami's role.

A giggle came from his right, and Kenpachi rolled his head to see. He could have lifted the eye-patch, but had resolved earlier not to do so until the fighting started. And the lack of any such thing in Hueco Mundo made him leery of jumping the gun.

Yachiru, his lieutenant, had apparently dug up some playthings out of the mess they were sitting on, which had been fashioned from several buildings his fighters had demolished. The bubbly imp was hopping excitedly in her seat, never standing still for a second, while before her there swung a collection of brightly-colored objects on strings and sticks. The exact word for it escaped him at this time, but he knew it was something people hung over baby's cribs to get them to sleep. Apparently this was having the opposite effect on his ward. After today, she probably wouldn't be able to sleep for a month.

"Ken-chan, lookie, lookie!"

Yachiru was pointing upwards. Zaraki obeyed her instruction. Floating overhead was a tiny little glowing green ball that bobbed and fluttered like it was sick. Or maybe drunk. He knew exactly where this would lead, and to stave it off, he blew out his breath, and the puny dot went sailing off once more, propelled by his reiatsu.

"Awww, Ken-chan, I wanted us to catch it!" his pink-haired partner pouted.

"Forget it," the Eleventh division captain groused and rubbed his eyepatch. "We've got work ahead of us."

There was no chance she would go off on her own without him, he knew well enough by now that his most faithful supporter wouldn't leave his side for anything less than a death-match. And those were in bizarrely short supply, considering the size of the army he had been asked to lead, much less fight.

Whose idea of warfare was this, anyway? I was hoping after all those bureaucratic moles bought it in their den, I'd be seeing a lot more action than usual. But these last few months it's been like Yamamoto's seeing traitors everywhere, and he's keeping everybody on an even tighter leash to fight that perceived threat. Didn't he know putting your heel on a man's throat was what had led to things getting this way in the first place?

Ah, hell, who cares. Not like anybody would pay attention to me if I said something. Most people just noticed him enough to stay out of his way, and that suited Zaraki just fine.

Speaking of not talking…

He cast a look down at the sword laying beside him.

Hey. You ready to talk to me yet?

Silence.

You're not afraid to speak up around me like everybody else, are you?

Total silence.

I bet you are. I bet you're shaking in your steel right now.

Absolute silence.

Not falling for it, huh?

The silence told him his answer was 'no'.

Whatever. Thought I'd give it a try. Works on all the other pricks I know.

No response.

Lacing his hands behind his head and staring at the sky, the afterlife's greatest swordsman muttered, "Dammit. Isn't _anybody_ fighting _anywhere?"_

Wonder if Ichigo was up for a little fun…

* * *

ATTACK!

"Hadō #33: SOKATSUI!"

A plume of blue flame roared from her hand, aimed straight at where he stood. Please hit, burn him, let it be over.

Instead it went right through him, to explode against the wall of ice.

Illusion? No, he just moved so fast he left an after-image. He's actually…

"Hey, Ruki…"

The spell activated.

GOT HIM!

Spinning about, Rukia saw Gin collapsing under the _Weight of Guilt_, a green pillory around his neck and two weighted chains clapped to either hand_. _Mercy, I was right! I was _right_, I know how he thinks!

She had counted on him coming up behind her, because of how much he enjoyed shocking people. He had done it so many times to her, of course she knew how he loved doing it. So before blocking off Gin's escape route she had cast the spell in the air right behind her head, and then hidden it with another kidō spell, Bakudō #26, _Kyokko_. This rendered the trap invisible, and Gin had apparently moved in so fast he probably would not have noticed it even if she hadn't done that.

But none of that mattered, because it couldn't possibly hold him for long. She had only needed a chance to grab the key and make a run for it. That was the plan.

Instead, much to her surprise, the young woman found herself raising her sword over her prisoner's bared neck.

_Wait, you only wanted to…!_

The executioner's blade fell.

She never even saw what came next. Only a flash of green light, and then Gin was standing free, one hand holding the wrist of her sword arm, the other cupping her throat in between two fingers. It felt like a pair of scissors was cradling just below her chin. If he brought them together, he'd cut her windpipe.

And he was still smiling, damn him.

"Now what…"

Rukia bit him.

He wasn't ready to kill her yet. That's how she knew what he'd let her get away with. So the tiny girl jerked her head back and then snapped it forward, sinking her teeth as hard as she could into the muscle just below his little finger.

It felt like her incisors might crack. She didn't even break the skin, but she could taste it. Warm and salty meat. This registered in the same instant she recognized his hold on her arm had slackened somewhat, and in that moment, she let go of Sode no Shirayuki, allowing it to fall.

The white ribbon danced on its fount, then wrapped tightly around his arm, converting the plunge into an arc. That was all she needed.

Letting go of his hand, Rukia slid her tiny wrist, slippery with sweat, free from his steel grip. _"TSUKISHIRO!"_

Her sword's first dance sprang up beneath them, encasing the snow-white figure in a tomb of ice. The other person inside that prison moved through the glacier, which gave way behind her. This was her element, after all, it responded to her need. There hadn't been time to grab the box as she had hoped, and there wasn't any now. Coming out of the circumference of the white circle, she recognized he would be free in seconds. Swiftly the incantation fell from her lips.

_"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man!"_ Rukia had trained over the years to get the words out right as fast as she could, and now more than ever she needed that talent. "_On the wall of blue flame, inscribe a twin lotus. In the abyss of conflagration, wait at the far heavens. Hadō #73: Sōren Sōkatsui!"_

This was the most powerful destruction magic spell Rukia could lay claim to having mastered. As she uttered the last phrase, a double blast of cold fire howled from her palms straight at the frozen fiend. The pillar shattered, exploding at the base and raining down ice shards all around.

He's not dead. I wish he was, but he isn't. Maybe not even hurt. I have to keep going.

"_Four hundred steps down from the mountain's crest, three hundred stones to build a tomb. One wish to safeguard the soul to the underworld. Look upon my works, ye lowly, and rejoice. Bakudō 69: Rising Mountain Cryst-!"_

A sword flew at her from the glistening devastation. Her training kicked in, and without thinking Rukia reached out to catch it by the handle. Instantly she recognized the feel of her own zanpakutō.

"For a princess, ya fight pretty dirty."

Like a tiger preparing to pounce, Ichimaru stood a little back from where she had left him. There wasn't even a scratch to speak of, not so much as a tear in his clothing. His arms were crossed over his chest, and that teasing smirk held just an ounce of reproach. He hadn't even bothered to cast a spell yet, much less draw his weapon.

She looked down at her own. It felt cold and almost sad against her skin.

I'm sorry I let him touch you.

No response came.

"You got a strong bite, ya know that, Rukia-chan? Really left your mark on me."

Kuchiki raised her head and stared at him.

"What game should we play next, huh?" Reaching into his coat, Ichimaru withdrew the box and tossed it up in the air. It was like he was begging her to come and take it from him.

It might be possible to trap the maniac in this place if she set up the right type of barriers. Then she could escape and possibly get help. But there was no guarantee he couldn't just form a _Garganta_ and escape that way. Right now the only thing keeping him from returning to Aizen with his prize was her. As long as she remained active and alive, he wouldn't leave it unfinished. She had a feeling that this fight meant something personal to Gin. It could be the culmination of his own twisted feelings towards her, whatever they might prove to be. Rukia was positive that she did not want to know the answer to that mystery. But he did feel something in regards to her, a weird sort of possessiveness that she had felt every time he looked at her or draped his arm around her shoulder. Like he thinks he owns me.

I've played your game for a long time now, former captain. It's one only you can win. So let me see if I can't change the rules.

With that, Kuchiki Rukia laid her sword down and began to remove her clothes.

She didn't look at Gin while she was doing this, but she swore she could feel his surprise. When she had untied the obi around her waist and the shihakushō fell open slightly, he whistled, low and inviting. It caused her to duck her head. But instead of stopping she kept on going. After a few moments, her traditional black death god attire was held in one hand, leaving the petite maiden standing in her white under-robe.

She let the sign of her office fall to the ground, and bent over to retrieve Shirayuki. Righting herself, Rukia held the blade point up before her face.

A sweep of the blade, "Some no Mai: Tsukishiro!" and the floor froze, expanding out until it passed Gin's feet and reached the other side of the room. He glanced casually down at his shoes encased in icicles. But if he had been expecting another pillar of frost to rise up, he was mistaken. She had complete control of her weapon, and she used it now.

"Ichimaru Gin…"

The silver head came up. "Yeah, Rukia-chan?"

She pointed the white blade at him. I've been dreading this moment for years. I'm holding my sword on him for the first time. Hopefully it will also be the last.

"Defend yourself!"

The bottom of Rukia's sandals turned to ice, and she launched herself across the frozen chamber, streaking along like an Olympic skater. The slick sheet of ice combined with her own footwork to maximize shunpō, and faster than thought she was crouched behind him, sword licking out to aim at the tendons of his Achilles heel.

He moved, breaking free of the frozen trap without effort and flitting aside so that all she cut was his shadow. Kuchiki followed immediately. Sode no Shirayuki carved through the air in pursuit of his flesh, but Gin simply dodged and ducked away from it, never out of breath, lips pressed in a tight smile. His hidden eyes seemed able to predict every move she might make, and his steps were apparently unhindered by the frozen ground. After he dodged the lunging tip of her blade for the umpteenth time, Rukia spun about on her heel, sliding in a circle around him, carefully measuring his reactions. Her feet were moving faster, of that she had no doubt, but her senses were still at the same level. When he reacted, it was all she could do just to keep his image from disappearing altogether. Gin was just too fast. Not even in shikai mode yet, and there was no keeping up with him.

There was that, though. He hadn't bothered to attack her even once. Of course, there was no reason for him to take this fight seriously, considering everything he knew about her. It was still just a game to him.

And here's my next move.

Of a sudden she planted her sword into the ground and used it as a post to leap as high into the air as she could. Gin's head came up, but he chose not to follow her, remaining where he was in preparation for her upcoming assault.

"Hadō #98…!" Rukia called out loudly.

Below her, she could see something that might be an indication of surprise at the corners of his mouth upon hearing the high number of that incantation. Clearly he knew what it meant, and Gin tensed visibly for a second.

It apparently hadn't dawned on him that she never even spoke the full preface for such a powerful attack. But it kept his attention on her, that's what counted. Good thing, because the young enchantress had no idea how that spell actually went. Instead she shouted, "MELT!"

At her command, the ice covering the floor disappeared in an instant. Already about to move, Gin swayed slightly at the sudden change in his terrain.

In that same moment, the sleeping kidō spell drawn onto her discarded robe was freed from the ice she had caught it in. She had mouthed it while her head was bowed during the disrobing and hidden it on the inside of her clothes. Without a sound, the white lightning of _Byakurai_ lanced out, drawn to the guiding glyph set into the pommel of her sword. She had calculated their relative positions during her earlier attempts to strike him, and here was the result.

The electrical charge struck Gin squarely in the back, and he stiffened. Rukia doubted any real damage had been done, but it caused him to take his eyes off her, and in that instant, the last part of her combination came into play.

"Hadō #1: Shō!"

The driving pressure of this attack was not focused at him, but directly behind herself. Although painful, the blow succeeded in launching her down at exactly the right angle with tremendous speed.

Then she was right in front of him, and Rukia twisted around, sending her foot lashing out just as she had been taught. All her weight and inertia converted into the force behind that one blow. It caught Ichimaru on the chin with a crack and sent his head spinning around.

While she was exulting at her success, the exuberant combatant suddenly felt a hand wrap around her ankle.

The next thing she knew Rukia was flung through the air like a sack of rice, colliding violently with the wall. She rebounded off it, finally rolling to a stop, and only then did the agony set in.

It felt like her leg had been wrenched out of its socket. Added to that was the feeling that the left side of her head might have cracked, along with some ribs. Was that it, she wondered? One counterattack and I'm finished? Hardly seemed believable, but sweet heaven, it had been so _strong! _He really had been playing with her up 'til this point.

She was in so much pain. But when her attacker suddenly appeared beside her, Rukia sensed that the game truly was over.

He knelt down, and she tensed in expectation of further punishment.

Instead all she felt was warmth.

Cracking open an eye, the broken shinigami found that Ichimaru was holding one glowing hand out over her. The field of energy it produced was absorbing into her wounds, healing them completely.

When it was done, her attendant got up, turned around and sauntered casually away.

Disbelieving, Rukia managed to struggle to a crouch. On her hands and knees, she watched him go. Why? Why did he do it? He had me cold, it was all over. What more does he want from me?

Reaching out a hand to the wall, she used it as leverage, leaning against it to drag herself upright. It was painful going; apparently injuries this severe didn't go away just like that unless you had someone like Orihime or Unohana seeing to them. _'Recovery spells ain't really my forte.' _She remembered him saying that once.

At last Rukia had managed to get back on her feet, and stood panting with her back pressed into the mausoleum wall.

Walking back towards the exit, Gin suddenly stopped.

There was a blur of white, and she only heard one word distinctly.

"…_Shinsō!"_

And something drove in between Rukia's legs.

She couldn't move, couldn't react even in the slightest. Her body had gone completely numb. Everything in her field of vision narrowed down to the ghost standing in the center of the room, and the ludicrously long sword that was extending out from his grasp. Her eyes automatically followed down the length of that shaft, watching as it grew closer, larger. Then her gaze fell to fixate on a spot below, where Shinsō's point had pierced the white fabric directly betwixt her thighs.

It was horrific, really. And still, all she could do was stare, waiting for the pain to come, to see blood staining the immaculate expanse of her robe.

But nothing of the sort took place.

She could feel that weapon's power throbbing against her body, but it didn't touch her. The blade had come within a hair's-breadth of contact with her flesh. And that was all.

Then the sword jerked out, and she couldn't suppress a whimper.

Shinsō retracted to the length of an ordinary wakizashi once more, and Gin laid the blade aside of his cheek.

"Warm?" he mused airily.

At the sound of his voice, Rukia found she could breathe again, and move. Trembling, she raised her head to him.

There wasn't a bruise to be seen on his face, nor a hair out of place. Not even a speck of blood to mar that weirdly beautiful smile he directed at her.

"Did I scare ya, Rukia-chan?" Gin clucked his tongue in commiseration. "Aww, that's a shame. Cuz really…"

And the smile became a leer.

"I'm just startin' to have fun over here!"

_To be continued…_


	25. Foxes Pray: Forgive Them You Know Naught

"Captain?"

Withdrawing his attention from the troops standing before him, Byakuya turned to find Renji coming upon him. The captain looked away just as quickly.

"You should not be here, Abarai. Our commands cannot be deserted for even a moment. Return to your post at once."

"Sir, it's about Rukia."

This caused the noble countenance to turn in his direction once more. "What of her?"

His pointy-haired pupil was regarding him with that focused intensity he always had around Byakuya. "I wanted to ask you where she went. I'm told that another lieutenant escorted her back into Seireitei as soon as we returned. Was this something you decided on?"

Why did everyone he knew keep implying that he was coddling Rukia? It was somewhat bothersome, and this topic was already a sensitive subject for him.

"The Commander-General himself is looking after her well-being at this time, Fukutaichou. If you think yourself better suited to protect her, feel free to take it up with him."

"I'm not." And Renji took a deep breath. "You are."

This caused the nobleman surprise. He directed his attention towards the burning eyes of the man who stood before him, and was outright shocked when Renji proceeded to kneel in the dirt at his feet.

"Taichou, I did some thinking since we left Hueco Mundo," the penitent spoke in a calm, unhurried tone. "You know that I'm willing to lay down my life for her if need be. It's my determination to see that Rukia survives this war. But I recognize what we're up against, and I also understand that my level of skill may not be up to that task."

He then turned fierce brown orbs up to regard his captain. "It may offend you to be asked this by anyone, but I would like to have your word that you will protect her if I fall today. Whatever pride and strength I possess I intend to lay on the line out there. That may be no different than any other shinigami, I'll admit. But whether my life ends in triumph or defeat, I am certain that it will have no meaning unless I know that Rukia survives to hear of it. In order to fight at one's strongest, there must be something worthwhile at the end of the battle. Though I recognize it is a needless request, my soul insists that I make it, even if by doing so I lessen both of our dignities. I'm asking you, Lord Byakuya Kuchiki, to use your power in assurance that anything I accomplish today is not done in vain."

Renji then touched his forehead to the earth. "Please."

The soldiers who had backed off to give their leaders space to converse watched this display curiously. Byakuya could hear them whispering among themselves. You're certainly correct about soiling my dignity with this display, Renji.

And yet, to be honest, I understand completely where you are coming from.

How much would I have given to have someone dependable to turn to and make such a request, back when Yoruichi was charged with capital crimes and sentenced to death? Or when Hisana became ill and there was nothing I could do for her? Or yes, even when Rukia herself fell underneath the headsman's axe? For all my declarations of honor and pride, I must admit that had someone reached out a hand to me at those times, my heart would have yearned to accept it.

_Actually, someone did offer to save Rukia. It was the man in front of you, along with Ichigo Kurosaki. Your response was to try and kill them, if I am not mistaken._

Silence. I am appreciating this man's true worth for perhaps the first time.

_Simply noting the hypocrisy._

I will deal with you at a later date, Senbonzakura.

Out loud, Byakuya simply stated. "Stand up, Lieutenant Abarai." When his junior officer did so, the head of their division affixed him with a steely-eyed gaze that gave no indication of approval one way or another. "You are correct in stating that asking such a thing from me is a waste of breath. I have taken measures to safeguard Rukia's well-being that you remain unaware of to this day. Out of respect for your devotion to my sister, I will not take you to task for your display. Return to your position with the assurance that you may fight to your utmost on the field of battle."

Renji came upright. "Thank you, sir."

"Dismissed."

The king of the streets turned and sped on his way, while the prince of paradise watched him go. When Renji was out of sight, he turned back to study the looming gray walls of his home.

She must be safe. Yamamoto is with her. How could anything go wrong?

* * *

The bladed missile exploded the stone directly in front of her, sending Rukia tumbling from the force of its impact. She was on her feet in an instant, attempting to remember the lines of a kidō spell for catching and binding an opponent, but screaming steel once again took up all of her attention, and she was forced to throw herself to one side to avoid it.

Shinsō returned humming to Ichimaru's hand, and he stood watching her patiently.

Clinging to the hilt of Shirayuki embedded point first into the ground, Rukia slumped against the blade, sobbing in one great lungful after another. Deep blue eyes were fixed on her torturer. She didn't dare take them away for an instant.

If it hadn't been clear before who had the upper hand, the mystery was now solved. And it most certainly was not the lady from the house of Kuchiki.

There was not so much as a nick on her skin that she had gotten directly from Shinsō. The captain-class zanpakutō moved with a speed and dexterity that far outstripped her own, and yet she had always managed to just avoid it. Rukia was not deceived, however. This state of affairs was due more to the weapon's wielder than her own determined efforts. Their game was not over, he had simply deemed her ready to graduate to the next level. In this stage of their courtship, it was not a matter of seeing how well she performed against him, but more how long she could hold out. It had proven impossible to retake the offensive once Gin had deployed his shikai. His previously hideous strength had now entered the realms of outright invincibility. Any spell he allowed her to cast was easily countered, every strategy rendered meaningless. Close quarters fighting was not permitted, though how much good it would have done her was debatable. Apparently this was to be a long-distance battle from now on.

At that point Gin seemed to grow bored, and from the middle of the room, he whipped Shinsō out in a wide arc. The shikai was fully extended in the blink of an eye, and his casual swing tore a line straight across the entire circumference of the room's wall. The buzz-saw blade passed in a rush just over her head, and she could feel the wind ruffling her hair, making the spent spell-caster close her eyes and hold onto her sword for dear life.

After that he went back to watching her. Perhaps he felt it was time for her to make the next move. Not to be outdone, and finding some measure of strength returning to her sore, aching muscles, Rukia clambered upright. A swirl of cold vapor collected around her, and the sword-maiden gripped her weapon tightly. He hasn't broken me. Not yet, anyway. I'm still ready to fight. With that thought in mind, she stabbed the tip of her soul cutter four times into the ground, forming identical candles of cold each time. Taking her stance with sword cocked trembling before her, the fighter from Inuzuri called upon those flames to gather before her.

"Tsugi no Mai," she rasped, throat searing with cold and pain. "Hakuren!"

A cone of winter's cruelest snowstorm then hurtled across the space between them, intending to freeze to death all life that lay in its path. Gin made no move to avoid it. He remained where he was, a demonic Jack Frost, smiling at his approaching end.

Less than a yard away, his sword arm rose, and Shinsō shot forth.

Glowing shaft met gleaming ice, and the former exploded through the latter in a thunderous detonation, pale energy seemingly gobbling up every fleck of snow it hadn't scattered off to the sides. The dire edge tore straight through her attack, right along its length, and before she could even feel despair at this, Rukia found herself being pricked lightly on the nose by the lengthy katana's tip.

She remained in her previous position, eyes dull from weariness, her white sword held parallel to his much greater one. For a moment she imagined just sliding forward and letting the thing impale her head and be done with it all. It was hatred that spurred her to pull back and strike the hovering implement away, the clang of their contact echoing as Shinsō returned to its master.

Dammit, Rukia thought, legs trembling beneath her, seeming to demand she take a rest. But I can't. Mustn't show any weakness before him. If I do, the game's over, and he kills me. As long as I can keep him occupied here, it's not in vain. Something might happen to turn the tables on this maniac.

Yeah, right, another part of her threw back. What do you expect, for Ichigo to come running into the room and blow him away with a Getsuga Tenshō? Aren't you tired of letting other people save you? Remember how good it felt to be the one to finish off the _Novena Espada, _and to prune that snobbish bastard Rudobon? Imagine how _great_ it would feel to walk all over Ichimaru's torn carcass too.

While I'm imagining things, I'd like a strawberry sundae and a brace of rabbits. White ones.

"Getting tired, Rukia-chan?"

Kuchiki peered at the face of her opponent, black hair falling into her eyes. It was too much effort to raise a hand, so she simply blew them out of her vision.

What am I going to do?

I can't kill him. I can't fight him. So what's left? Fuck him? Not while I'm alive. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em? Again, a fate worse than death. Do I even have any options I like here? Why should I bother trying?

Because there's nobody else, that's why.

She looked around the darkened room, panting and curiously light-headed. He said it himself, didn't he? This is our time together. We're meant to get all the old business out of the way before we step forward into the future. I've covered for this monster's misdeeds long enough, haven't I? No more excuses to hide behind. He's a villain and a murderer, and if anybody has a reason to see him dead, it's me. After everything he's done, to people I love and those I couldn't care less about, I have to find a way to stop this sickness from spreading any further than it already has.

Right?

So what, then? Charge him and hope he falls asleep before I make it there? That's a stupid tactic, sacrificing yourself. I'm tired of that thoughtless bushido crap. Isn't there some other way to win? What did you say to me that first time we fought, Shirayuki? Remember, back in Hollow Bog? Something like, 'It's not always about one person sacrificing themselves to…'

She stopped.

Wait a minute.

Back then… that's right. I completely forgot about that, it was so long ago. I'm the only one who knows, aren't I? Maybe that's why I'm here. Nobody else could. It's possible fate really does exist.

But I have to get in close. Will he let me? That depends on whether he thinks I'm still a threat.

"You callin' it quits then, Rukia-chan?"

That's for you to decide, isn't it?

With that she lifted her weapon, and giving the loudest scream she possibly could, Rukia took two steps forward and hurled her sword at him.

Apparently he hadn't been expecting that, but it made no difference, as the weapon barely even made it half the distance between them before falling to the stone with a clang. Those slit eyes studied the beautiful blade lying in the dust before returning to its owner.

Rukia took a deep breath. All the fear was pushed to the back of her mind. Ichigo always said I'm a terrible actor. Time to prove him wrong.

"What do you want?"

She said it forcefully enough to make him pause and examine her. In that time, she started to move towards him.

"What do you _want_, Ichimaru? Tell me!" Kuchiki took another step forward, finding it somewhat easier to keep going than it had been to start. "You've been hovering around me for years, keeping me guessing as to why. Isn't it time to put an end to it? Why don't you just come right out and tell me!"

"Now, Rukia-chan," Gin drawled sweetly, "Where would be the fun in just tellin' you?"

"What are you afraid of?" she shot back, limping and struggling, almost at the halfway point. To emphasize her helplessness, she raised her hands to show that they remained empty.

He cocked his head thoughtfully. "What makes you think I'm the one who needs to be afraid in this situation?"

"Nii-sama says it's impolite to answer a question with a question. He also says you're scared." The memory came to her with the clarity of inspiration. "He says that Zaraki told him you're terrified of dying, and you didn't deny it."

The edge of his smile dipped slightly, and Shinsō raised to point at her. "I think you've gone far enough there, Rukia-chan. Any further and I might start to get worried."

He hadn't shot her down. This really could work. Just keep talking. "Amazing. Who would have thought you'd be this easy to rattle? If I'd known beforehand, I would have tried it years ago." When his brows knit together somewhat, she forced herself to smile. "It's just like teasing Ichigo. You even look a little like him right now, you know?"

"Rukia-chan, knock it off. It's pathetic watchin' you try to be devious. Come to think of it, if there's nothing else you've got, I guess I might as well…"

"What, kill me?" Only a few steps away, now. "Even better. If I'm going to die, I won't be able to tell anybody else. So there's no reason for you not to explain: what is it you've always wanted from me, Ichimaru?"

The smile was really just a slight raise to his lips now. There wasn't anything real behind it, not joy, humor, or even viciousness. Was this how Gin looked when he was worried? Fascinating.

"It ain't that easy, Rukia-ch-"

"Not my body, that's for sure." The huntress slowed her pace as she drew closer to her prey. "Kiyone told me- you know her, the Third seat in my division? Kind of a gossip?- Well, she told me that you've been seen sneaking around Lieutenant Matsumoto's room, so we always figured you were into busty Western-style beauties, not itty-bitty little…"

His hand snaked out and grabbed her by the throat, yanking her off the ground. Rukia stared down into his eyes. The smile was back full-force, and it was filled with hate. For some reason, she felt certain this was the look he wore when he was butchering all those people in Central 46. That had clearly been personal to him, and so was this.

"If I tell you what you wanna know, it means I gotta kill ya. S'at what you want, Rukia Kuchiki? Do you want me to kill you?"

He brought Shinsō up and pointed it at her eye. They were so close now, with him holding her off the ground at arm's length. Not good. She had to get right up against his body. Clenching her eyes shut, Rukia gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the sharpened steel spirit hovering near her head.

And she whispered the only thing that came to mind in this situation.

"A…aroniero…"

"Eh?" One silvery eyebrow lifted. "Wha'd ya say?"

"Arru-rueri…"

"What about him?" He sounded interested. When she gasped, falling limp in his grip, Gin drew her in closer. "Spit it out, Rukia-chan, I'm all ears."

Right up against him, his sword hovering where she could feel it. He had brought her in.

Beneath his eye level, she slowly extended middle and index finger.

"D…" she choked on it, really choked.

"Eh? Speak up now, I can't hear you."

Rukia blindly positioned her fingers at the spot she remembered.

"Di…!"

And at last she got it out.

"_Disorobu!"_

As she said it, a small spike of ice, born not of kidō but her own personal power, encased the two fingers, and with all her strength she thrust it towards his abdomen. It pierced the cloth of his inner robe, outer robe, then reached the captain's impervious reishi-rich skin.

And sank right in.

Gin gasped in shock as he felt his flesh give way before her.

As for Rukia, she was remembering something else. This same experience, decades ago, after the incident at Hollow Bog when Ichimaru had received a minor wound supposedly defending her from a Hollow. He had insisted she repay him by healing it herself, but before she could begin, he forced her to place her fingers into the wound, just to add to her horror from that day.

Rukia had been half-dead with fear, loathing the feel of his hot intestines slipping across her fingertips. But the other half, the one that could still think, was doing so. And it saw a chance. So then, in those few precious seconds that she was allowed to work, she had used her fingertips to inscribe a tiny sleeping kidō rune inside his body.

It was the rune for _Dissolve_.

She had proceeded to heal Gin afterwards, so well even he was pleased by it. And therefore her energy had been a small part of his flesh for years, tied to the rune she had left inside his body. It had been instinct that caused her to do this. Her talents at kidō were well known, and when presented with an opportunity, she had taken it. If it ever seemed like Gin was going to do more than just tease and torment her, if she honestly believed that he was going to hurt her in truth, that tiny secret existed, one she might use to surprise him long enough to get away or find help. Over the years, the memory of her trump card had faded, until this desperate situation had brought it back.

Around her fingers, the girl could feel blood coming out of the wound she had just made. The skin of his reiatsu had grown over that wound throughout the years, but it was thin compared to the rest of his body. It was the only weak spot she could find, because she was the one who created it.

Rukia's eyes opened. Gin's smile was gone. He was staring down, eyes still closed, almost mesmerized by the sight of blood coming out of his body. She felt his grip on her throat loosen, and squirming, she managed to drop down. Her other hand darted up, into his coat, and emerged a moment later with the box containing the Key.

Withdrawing her digits with a wet popping sound, the valiant warrior turned and raced away. Snatching up Sode no Shirayuki, she came about and made for the exit as fast as her feet could take her, heart in her mouth and triumph on her tongue.

I beat him!

* * *

Gin stared, aghast.

Blood? She stabbed me. That's my blood. How? That little witch, I'm going to… I'm GOING TO…!

He spoke the words without bothering to think about it.

"BAN-KAI!"

* * *

"Seventh seat Yamada-san, hurry up!" Third seat Yasochika Iemura shouted gruffly. "You're falling behind!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Hanatarō wheezed, trooping through the halls of the makeshift medical unit they had erected by the Western Gate.

"What's with you, man?" his superior demanded as their troupe came to a halt and the scrawny doctor bent over clutching his knees. "You're gasping like you're missing a lung!"

"Yeah," the underling panted, sweat dripping off his face. "But she was… worth it!"

"What?"

"Nothing."

Officer Yasochika adjusted his silver spectacles, frowning mightily. "Yamada-san, you worry me. In light of your current condition, with you somehow contriving to be even more feeble than usual, I'm reassigning you to be in charge of the emergency suture brigade. This means you are not to attempt any major surgery on your own!" The pale-faced paramedic lifted a warning finger before the lesser officer's nose. "If they're gravely wounded, just do a low-level healing and add in a _Dissolve_ charm beforehand so that we can wipe it away along with any mistakes you might have made once it's time to do some real healing."

"Sure. Whatever you say… Iemura-san."

A bit nettled at having this punishment be so casually received by the normally whiny Yamada, the Third seat then scanned the faces of his colleagues and spoke in clipped tones. "The rest of you, you know your assignments! Do the Fourth division proud!"

"YES, SIR!" they all responded, and began to troop off.

As they passed him doubled-over in the corridor, one man stopped and knelt beside Hanatarō. "Say, Yamada-san?"

"Y…Yeah?"

"When exactly did you lose your left ear?"

"I… I'll tell you later!"

* * *

A wall shot up in front of her, blocking her escape, but Rukia had already collapsed from the power that had just been unleashed.

Incredible. He really did it. He went ban-kai just to get me. Well, I suppose that's something to be proud of.

As this force pummeled her to the ground, Rukia suddenly realized that for all that she had feared Ichimaru, it had never been enough. Mere fright couldn't begin to describe what this presence engendered in her. Not if he was capable of… _this._

Managing to raise her head, the girl saw her own despondent features staring back at her.

It's a mirror. That's what came out of the ground. Big enough and high enough to fill the whole corridor. And it wasn't just herself reflected in those depths. Behind her, where Ichimaru had stood, there now appeared to be a fort of some kind. Made up of enormous shards of glass that resembled knives, they clustered all around the center of the room in a fractured cone, reaching up to stab the ceiling. Everything around her appeared in dozens of different variations, and the blue light shone faintly in its depths.

As she stared, the blood-spattered hem of a white robe stepped in from one side of the glass, and her heart froze.

Turning to look in that direction, however, Rukia could see no one.

But he was there. In the reflection. Gin Ichimaru, smiling down at her once more like nothing had happened. His pristine uniform was still stained with blood, but it appeared to have healed. Shinsō was still in one hand, now at a regular length for a katana. But other than that…

Just what was going on here?

The image of her enemy smiled, and mouthed a few words. There was no sound to come with it, however, and the crumpled waif stared blankly at him.

In response, the captain raised a finger, wagging it slowly from side to side.

Then his saber licked out, and a cut appeared on her cheek.

Rukia bolted upright, galvanized by the threat. She didn't even plan on striking back, only of getting away. But when he appeared to follow her, she raised a hand weakly and intoned, "Hadō #1: Shō!"

Intending to push the invisible enemy away from her, she was instead struck by a blow that catapulted her through the air, to again smack against a wall. Weakly she slumped to the granite, feeling its coolness and her pain acutely. What happened? Did he cast a counter-spell? I didn't hear or see anything, it was more like…

My own magic reflected back at me.

Kuchiki looked over then, to where the monolith now dominated this vault. She could see herself in it from a number of angles. But only in one of them could she find its master, and he was standing right beside her.

Disbelief was proving harder to overcome than she had thought. With that in mind, the black-haired shinigami found herself reaching out to try and touch him where he appeared to be standing. In response, Gin knelt down, and held out a hand. In the reflection, her fingers encountered his, but nothing registered to her touch. It looked like he was speaking once more.

Then Ichimaru reached up to quickly draw his blade across her palm, and scarlet blood flowed.

The wound burned with pain, and in panicked response Rukia thrust her own zanpakutō at him. What was intended to reach his heart was off due to her weakness, and instead cut into his shoulder. At the exact same instant, she felt a sword slide into her own body, and now it was her robe running red down her chest.

The pain helped. It finally hit her then. Mirrors. Reflections. This is Gin's ban-kai. His body no longer exists in this world anymore, or if it does, it can't be reached. If you attack his image in the glass, you experience the same injury, while he remains safe. It actually makes sense. If he really is afraid of death, this is the best way to protect himself. Let anyone who tries to take his life kill themselves. Or do it himself at his leisure.

Our game is still ongoing.

A split appeared in the fabric covering her thigh, and began weeping blood. Frantically Rukia rolled away, trying to stay out of his reach. But in doing so, she ran smack into another mirror that came up out of the ground. The girl scrambled upright, thinking desperately. Could the process be reversed? If she stabbed herself, would Gin experience her injuries in her place? To test this idea, she reached up and pinched her cheek hard. Pain blossomed, and that was enough to make her discount that risky idea altogether.

Funny, she thought. I'm not really feeling afraid anymore. Weak, and woozy, maybe even a little intrigued. After all, how often does one get to see a captain's ban-kai in action? But still, not afraid. That helps. By not panicking, I can try to figure out a way to…

What? Beat him? Win through?

Why not? The only other alternative is to sit down and die.

A long, shallow cut sliced down her back, and Rukia sprang away. He followed her. Everywhere she went, Gin was right behind. It was like a nightmare. No matter how you try to run or hide, the monster always knows where you are. It's just playing with you, letting you hear its footsteps, its breath.

No, stop it, don't lose to just the idea of him. I'm done letting him walk all over me, remember? He's the criminal, I'm the one with the power to pass judgment on him.

Maybe if I break the mirrors themselves? As another one came up in front of her, Rukia raised Sode no Shirayuki and slammed its hilt into the flat surface. What she got for this effort was a painful blow to her temple, and the realization that these things were not glass, but polished steel. Well, of course. That would have been too easy. Crouching on the floor, something punched into her shoulder, and Rukia couldn't keep in her first full-blown scream.

There was no blood on Ichimaru's blade when he withdrew it, but that didn't stop him from mimicking her cry with that deadly silent laughter he now had.

While he was absorbed in watching her clutch her arm in pain, Rukia finally had a good idea.

"Bakudō #21," she gritted from between clenched teeth. _"Sekienton."_

Both palms slammed into the ground, and immediately a large cloud of red smoke emerged. It filled virtually half the chamber, and without bothering to think Rukia was off. _'The best way to test your theories is to put yourself in them.' _Something Mayuri had been fond of saying on her trips to his lab. If I get out of this, I'm going to hire him to specifically design a way to kill a mirror-man.

One of the shiny metal implements rose before her, and Rukia caught a vague, unclear glimpse of what might be herself in its depths. There was a flash of white beside her, but without waiting for it to appear fully, she was around it. No new wounds opened up in her, and hope blossomed briefly. Maybe I can make it. If he has to see you in the reflections to attack, I just might stand a chance.

Another pane shot up to one side of her path, but before she could dodge, a tornado erupted from it. The wind caught her up and sent her flying back to the center of the room, dissipating the smoke in the process.

Rukia lay on her side, gasping and almost delirious from the sensation of being whirled around helplessly. I think that was another kidō spell. _Orchid Sky_, maybe. So he can still do those even when in this form? Hell, is there absolutely no weakness this thing has? Certainly explains why nobody's killed Ichimaru before now, I always wondered about that.

Sode no Shirayuki was still firmly clenched in her hand, and reaching up, the battered lady encountered the feel of the box tucked into her breast pocket.

"Are you done, Ichimaru?" she announced wearily. "Shall we continue now?" Riling him up couldn't make things any worse, could it?

A moment later she was proven wrong, as her entire body stiffened in burning pain, paralyzing her. When Kuchiki finally managed to open her eyes, she found in the side of the tower's reflection that she was glowing in a red outline. Bakudō #9, she realized distantly. Constricts the target while harming them at the same time. A simpler version of _Red Throat Flytrap_, if I recall Momo-sensei's lecture correctly.

Things had gotten worse. Apparently her nemesis was through playing around.

Mirrors shot up on the other three sides, encasing her all around. In the one before her, there appeared the _kitsune_. He was standing at her back, grinning merrily. Then Gin dropped down, and wrapped an arm around her neck.

Rukia felt nothing, in any way. All her emotions had drained away, leaving her helpless in his clutch. I brought this on myself, she thought. I knew it was suicide to fight him, but I did it anyway. Why? For pride? Because I seriously thought this monster could fall to my blade? Or do I really have a death wish like some people say? The answers to these questions didn't seem to be evident. All that came clear was a prickle of dread along her already screaming nerves, as Ichimaru leaned his head in to her ear.

He said something to her then, smiling all the while. The noblewoman had never excelled at reading lips, and now was no different. Whatever it might have been would have to stay locked in his mind. Abruptly Gin laid a quick kiss on her cheek. There was not even so much as a lingering sensation to mark this gesture, one that could never be mistaken for affection.

The sword in his hand decreased in length, until once more it was the size of a tanto dagger. This he reached around and placed with the tip pointing at her heart.

I'm going to die. I failed everyone, and now I'm going to die for real. I'm sorry I couldn't do more than this.

There was a pressure against her chest, and Rukia realized it was the black box, being pressed against her by the point of his knife. Apparently realizing this as well, the killer smiled and shook his head, before simply transferring his weapon over to her other side.

Now when his lips moved, there was no mistaking what he said.

'_Bye-bye, Rukia-chan!'_

There's no fear. I can die at peace. He can't take that away from me after all.

Abruptly images flashed through her mind, hundreds upon hundreds of different people and places she remembered. Inuzuri, Renji, the old gang, school, Momo and Kira, Byakuya, Kaien Shiba and his wife, Yumichika, Urahara, the girls in her human school, and finally…

Ichigo.

Seeing his face, a pain grew in her chest like no other, and Rukia couldn't hold back a sob.

As if waiting for this moment, her executioner smiled.

He then drove the knife in.

She barely even felt it.

Blood spattered onto the ground, down her chest, running warm over her cheek…

…wait…

My cheek?

Coming back to the present, Rukia blinked, in time to see Gin Ichimaru rising up behind her.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

Instead, his face was contorted in an awful scream, and blood was pouring down the right side of his chest. It spilled out, not just in the reflection, but onto the ground and herself as well.

What's happening? Did he miss me somehow and stab himself?

As Ichimaru howled soundlessly in that flat pane, she realized that her body was free. The bonds constricting her had broken. Looking at him in total incomprehension, Rukia reached up a hand to the place where his knife should have entered. There was a small hole in the robe, and she could feel something hard in there, an object she hadn't even recognized before. What _is _that?

Reaching in, the maiden's fingers encountered something flat and rather warm, probably from her body heat. When she withdrew it, Kuchiki Rukia saw a person who looked identical to herself peering back.

A mirror.

A small, bamboo-rimmed mirror. The one she always kept tucked away in her inner robe, ever since she had been given it as a gift from…

Before she could complete that thought, Ichimaru raised his sword and brought it chopping down. Acting on instinct, Rukia flung her arms protectively above her head.

There was no impact. Instead, more blood spilled out to anoint her skin.

In the metal mirror before her, two things were different. One, Gin was now sporting a shoulder that looked to be cloven in half. And two, Rukia was no longer visible in it.

Shocked, she watched as the white demon stood alone, bleeding and screaming.

What is going on?

Then slowly it dawned upon her. Lowering her arms, Rukia looked incredulously down at the rounded glass accessory now facing out before her. Within its small surface, she could see herself. And no one else.

So that's it. _That's_ how you break the spell of his ban-kai. Use another mirror, a real one. Anything else reflective, like a polished sword, or even the reflection in a person's eyes, that wouldn't work. She had held her blade up unthinkingly before, and nothing had happened, even if it did turn light as surely as silvered glass. It had to be a true mirror, and when Gin had driven his ensorcelled blade through her robe, he had exposed this one enough to turn the injury back on him. Of course, it all made sense. That's why no one had ever defeated him before. Who would bother bringing a mirror to a battlefield, much less take it out and look in it? It made no sense to do so, when spiritual perceptions could tell if someone was behind you or not.

This right here, in my hand, is the true mirror of the soul.

While she was coming to this epiphany, the master magician before her flung himself off to one side, attempting to exit this particular pane. But when his body touched the edge of the wall, it stopped. There was astonishment written large on Ichimaru's features. After seeing this, Rukia stood up, holding the mirror out before her. It would seem that he couldn't escape this particular vessel as long as she held up her charm. Nor was he able to turn off his ban-kai, or he would have done it by now. Their roles were reversed.

Acting on this idea, she slowly raised her sword, and jabbed it in the air towards him.

A fresh red flower blossomed on his arm, and Gin clutched the limb, flinging back his head and baring his teeth in a snarl.

His eyes were open.

They're blue, she realized.

Her own were wide as could be, and far darker than his. Her mouth hung open slightly, as though tasting something.

Without blinking an eye, Rukia swung her sword again, and blood flowed down his other arm.

Again. More down his chest.

Again. A cut upon his shrieking face.

Again. Again.

Again, again, again againagainagainaGAIN!

By this point Rukia was screaming herself, like a madwoman. All the terror and frustration she had experienced in this last half hour, maybe in her whole life, was coming to the fore, and the only thing she could see was red! Red everywhere, flowing down his neck, into his hair, all over him, she swung and screeched insanely. I've got you! I've finally GOT YOU, YOU EVIL BASTARD! How does it feel? How do you like knowing that you're helpless and at my mercy? Do you ENJOY IT? Does it FEEL GOOD, ICHIMARU GIN? HOW DO YOU LIKE BEING THE ONE GETTING TORTURED TO DEATH? DAMN DEMON, YOU GO BACK TO HELL!

There was no grace or artistry to her form now, she swung like a woodcutter hacking at a tree. Gin was stumbling and flailing, but still alive. There was so much blood it was hard to believe he wasn't dead yet. Spitting and snarling, Rukia rained blows down upon his defenseless form, never forgetting to keep the mirror trained on him. He went to his knees now, hands raised above his head while sobs and silent cries fell from his lips.

She felt no mercy, and brought the white blade down.

Blood spurted from his sword hand, and two of his fingers came off. With an unheard wail, Shinsō fell from his maimed grip.

The sword hit the ground with a loud clatter.

And then the screaming tore through her ears.

Rukia staggered back, the sound and the sudden lack of tremendous spirit power almost causing her to lose her footing. The instant Gin let go of his zanpakutō in the mirror, his ban-kai deactivated. The great tower of spears disappeared, along with every other dagger-mirror in the room, and once more the creature behind it all entered the world of light and sound.

He was screaming loud enough to burst her eardrums, echoing all around this amphitheatre. Every single wound he had received in ban-kai remained on his body, right down to the missing fingers. Ichimaru raised his mutilated mitt before him and howled like a lost child. His staring, maddened eyes were now the same blood-red color as his clothing.

Recovering from her shock, Kuchiki lunged forth, sword extending.

He saw her coming, and twisted aside. Unable to check her dive, Rukia's sword went right by him. The good hand crashed down on her arm, so hard it felt like he broke it, and Sode no Shirayuki flew from her grip to go spinning across the room.

And then it all went to hell, as Ichimaru tackled her to the ground, straddling her chest.

He was heavy, in spite of being so thin. The stink of blood was in the air, but no more did Gin cry out. Instead he made a fist and slammed it into her jaw. Rukia coughed and spit blood of her own. A backhand blow, and her head rocked the other way, leaving her dazed.

The next instant his hands, slippery with blood, were around her throat. Panicking once more, she kicked and scratched, trying to reach his glowing red eyes, but to no avail. The girl struggled to take in air, but in spite of being maimed and horribly wounded, the mad dog atop her still boasted terrible strength. Her throat wouldn't open no matter how hard she tried. There was no breath in her for spells or anything else. She tried to pry his fingers off her throat, beating and tearing at them, but they remained stuck fast. There was no use trying to lever her feet beneath him to throw him off, the best she could do was drive her knees into his back. Desperately, Rukia's arms flailed around the floor, seeking a rock or piece of ice to try and smash his face with, but nothing came to hand. Turning her head she saw, only a few inches off, the fallen weapon Shinsō. This too proved to be beyond her short reach.

After a time, the girl's struggles began to diminish.

…_don't…_

Sensing her distress, Gin bore down harder, squeezing her ribs between his legs, trying to break her bones. They creaked audibly but held.

Her mouth was gaping, and her eyes fluttered closed. Through his own tremendous agony, Gin found himself immensely pleased by this sight.

Looking down at her, speaking through blood-stained lips, the purified Hollow spit his final question.

"Do you know what I _want_ from you, Rukia?"

Her head was swimming, vision going red.

…_Don't…_

Ignoring the state of his soul, the creature who had once been Rip Tease smiled.

"Well, I'll tell you."

A white dot was growing amidst the field of carnations.

_Don't…touch…_

"I only want… what's _best for you!"_

He laughed, crazy with pain and totally pleased with himself.

The white light filled Rukia's vision, consciousness fading, life...

_Don't. _

_Touch! _

_MY! _

_**SISTER!**_

And something tore into his back.

Gin reared up, letting go of his victim with a hiss. His arms jerked behind him, clutching at a cold metal blade that bit into his fingers and numbed them like ice. Looking back, he saw Sode no Shirayuki sticking out of him like a flag.

Rukia Kuchiki opened her eyes, taking a deep, gasping breath. She looked up, and saw the man struggling above her.

As she watched him, her body scooted over. The fingers twitched and slowly extended out, until they finally reached the knife.

Then with a scream of her own, Rukia lashed out and grabbed the collar of his robe. Dragging herself up with it, she wrapped her arm around his neck, and without further thought, raised the dagger high and plunged it into his back.

Just grasping the white sword from behind, Ichimaru stiffened and pulled it out with a convulsive jerk, sending the blade skidding out of reach even as his lungs filled with blood and steel. She was roaring in his ear, stabbing him again and again. In and out the razor-sharp weapon (his own!) tore through his lungs, his ribs. Blood spurted out of him like an overripe persimmon. It gushed from his mouth and stained his murderer's robes even further red.

He wailed.

"**NO!"**

_GIN!_

The knife collided with his skin, and its blade snapped in half.

At this his remaining strength left him, and he finally pitched forward. The girl fell beneath him, but hastily strove to extricate herself. Dragging her body out from under his, Rukia staggered upright, looking first at him bleeding and gasping on the floor, then at the handle in her hand. With a snarl she flung it away, and cast about for a more effective weapon. Then her furious eyes lit upon the white sword. Dashing over to it, kicking Shinsō's blade away as she did, Rukia picked up her soul cutter. It felt so good to have it in her hands again, battered and bleeding though she might be. An unholy smile stretched her lips.

_Wait!_

With that she stalked dizzily on back to where her hated enemy lay.

Gin was twitching and jerking, striving to crawl away in spite of his body's telling him to stop. His eyes were open, but what he was seeing was not anything in this room.

No. No, not again. Please, I don't wanna die. Leave me alone, I don't _wanna_ _die!_

Someone came to stand over him. One frantic crimson eye turned, in time to see the shinigami staring down on him without mercy.

"NO!" Gin suddenly howled, mouth thick with blood and sobs. "PLEASE DON'T! I DON'T WANNA BE HERE, I WANNA GO HOME! PLEASE LET ME GO HOME!"

The ghastly spirit raised its white sword over him.

"I DIDN' DO NOTHING WRONG! IT WAS THE WOLVES! THEY ATE ME! THEY ATE ME WHEN I WASN'T DEAD! PLEASE, I DON' WANNA DIIIIIIE!"

He attempted to crawl away, dreadfully slow, but the death god kept pace with him, aiming the sword at his neck. She was going to cut his head off! Just like before! The phantom pain was burning through his skin, making him sob with the horrible memory of it. His throat was raw from all the screaming, voice fading to a whisper. But still, he went on, trying to escape the pain and fear again, trying to get home.

Somebody save me. Rangiku, Mommy, please, anybody, I don't…

"I don't… _wanna _die!"

His mind couldn't come up with anything else. Nothing could possibly be more important than that.

"I don' wanna die, please, no, don' kill me, I don' wanna die, I don't _wanna_ die, I_ don't WANNA DIE!"_

His anguished plea filled her ears, sounding oddly like a child.

And standing over him, Rukia prepared to swing.

_Wait!_

She paused.

What?

_Don't do this…_

Why?

_Don't… I beg you…_

WHY? TELL ME WHY, DAMMIT!

…_forgi…_

NO! NO FORGIVENESS! NOT FOR HIM! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? HE HAS TO DIE! HIM MORE THAN ANYONE, HE HAS TO DIE! HE'S UNFORGIVEABLE, YOU KNOW THAT!

_Please… please forgive him!_

SHUT UP! IT ENDS NOW!

She raised her blade, taking aim at the silver-topped neck.

_No! Rukia… DON'T!_

And then she was pulled into the snowfield.

The stars glimmered down from the velvet-black sky. Standing in the same position as before, Rukia found that her hands were empty. Before her, Sode no Shirayuki lay crumpled on the snow, her silk scarves and white ribbons trailing all around her. The slender shoulders shuddered, and though her face remained covered in her hood, she could tell that the spirit was weeping.

None of that mattered.

"Send me back."

_Please…_

"Send me back, NOW!"

Her zanpakutō quailed at the shout, turning her head away.

_Listen to me. I'm begging you to forgive this man for all he's done to you._

"Never. He's done too much to me."

_What? What did he do? Please think about it! Yes, he tormented you and he frightened you, I know, but… but he never actually hurt you! Not until today, not until you hurt him first! Please. I'm your friend, I love you, you know that. Listen to me when I tell you…_

"There's no point discussing this." And she turned her head, searching for an exit of some kind.

_Forgiveness… it's what I am, what I represent in your soul. If you'll only just…_

Rukia moved past her.

_No, wait, Rukia, listen!_

One samite-draped hand shot forth and encased her wrist. The master of this realm looked down on it perplexedly.

"What is the matter with you? Have you gone mad? While I'm trapped here, he could kill me! Let me go now!"

_You… you have to forgive him…_

"I told you NO! Now release me or I'll…!"

_PLEASE!_

The force of this plea shocked her into silence, and all she could do was watch as the snow spirit sobbed and begged at her feet.

_Please…you must forgive Ichimaru Gin… please forgive…_

What is going on?

I don't understand.

_Because if you can't…if you can't forgive him…_

The wraith let go, and slowly raised her hands upwards.

A moment later, the white hood fell around her shoulders.

Rukia stared in shock at her zanpakutō's naked face.

…_then you can't forgive ME!_

It was her own features, gazing beseechingly through tear-filled white eyes. Like looking into a mirror. But… different too.

Understanding came then.

"Hisana?"

The spirit cringed. Immediately, Rukia was down on her knees before it, grabbing its frail shoulders.

"Hisana? SISTER?"

And her twin looked up at her miserably.

_No. I'm not your sister. Don't you see? I'm her zanpakutō!_

The words hit like a thunderclap, and she stared at this divine being. After a while, a single word escaped her lips. "H…how…?"

Sode no Shirayuki took Rukia's hands in her own.

_She…WE abandoned you. I was a part of her soul, an infant zanpakutō, unable even to speak to my wielder. I stayed inside her, growing stronger with time. But… Hisana couldn't care for you after the two of you died! Life in Inuzuri was wretched. I tried to keep you both safe until I could manifest and make myself known, but there was just too much danger! Too much corruption, with no one coming to help._ _One day it all became unbearable for Hisana, and in a moment of weakness, she abandoned you and ran. I came from her spirit, so the blame of doing so was mine as well. But in that awful moment, Hisana's grief, shame and most of all her love for you was at such odds with the desire to save herself that it split her soul! _

They were holding one another now, sword and master.

_She unknowingly passed me on to you, along with her desire to keep you safe. This fragment of a zanpakutō went into your soul. You had no natural spiritual powers of your own to interfere with it. But from then on I was bound to both of you! Still Hisana recognized always that you needed greater protection. Over the years, she unconsciously relinquished more and more of me over to you, letting you become stronger, and her ever weaker. My bond with her grew faint. I tried to protect her, to make her stop what she was doing once you had enough to live on. But she never heard me. Not even once. She just kept giving and giving, driven by her shame and self-loathing. Your sister believed that she deserved to be alone in the world for what she had done to you. Her spirit grew so frail, and I was hardly aware of her anymore, so much of me went into you, though neither of you knew where the other was. _

_Then one day, a year before you joined the shinigami academy, I knew that Hisana had died. There was no way for her soul to continue after she relinquished so much of me. I never knew what became of her, until Byakuya Kuchiki finally told you. He made you part of his family, and after a while, it looked like you might really be safe. You made friends, and learned how to fight and defend others, and even how to love. You're happy now! And I'm so glad._

_But…_

The white maiden quaked in Rukia's arms.

_None of that would have mattered if you hadn't lived to see it!_

"Sode no…Sist… what are you telling me? What does this have to do with…?"

_Look…Look!_

Suddenly the landscape changed, reverting into something far less welcome. Dirty streets, dilapidated shacks and tumbledown buildings. It took her only a moment to recognize this as Inuzuri, where she grew up.

Looking down, Rukia was surprised to find herself outfitted in Sode no Shirayuki's normal raiment of white silk draperies. It would seem that she was experiencing her guardian spirit's memories. Even more surprising than this was the sight of an infant wrapped in a bundle at her feet that she immediately recognized as herself. Her baby form was left in a small patch of grass between two houses, while she was hovering close beside her, anxiously observing the infant's spirit.

And then…

A terrible presence came over her.

Looking up, the zanpakutō was horrified to see a strange being walking towards them. It looked like a boy, but smelled slightly off. The creature crouched before her ward, seemingly oblivious to the sword-spirit's presence. When it trained its hungry eyes fully upon Rukia, her shock and loathing traveled through their connection and made the baby cry.

The thing laughed, and stood up.

"We all gotta make our own way," it sneered, and left them there, alone and helpless.

Rukia blinked in perplexity, coming back to herself. "That was… I don't…"

_And then…_

_He came back._

_

* * *

_

Gin Ichimaru walked away from the baby, already forgetting about it. He considered how much time it would take to make it back to his lair, and whether it would be worthwhile to sniff around this district for anything of interest. Being dead could be so boring, he almost missed his life as a Hollow. At least then you had a good chance of finding something interesting.

…_die…_

On top of that, it turned out the old saying 'better off dead' really didn't apply to lots of these folks. Sure, they never went hungry, but that was just a drop in the bucket of their collective suffering. They lived like dogs…

…_wolves…_

…in the street, shuffling about and whimpering, never looking you in the eye, just like a whipped dog.

…_she'll die… be eaten…_

For some reason, he found himself turned around, heading back the way he came. Surprised, the boy stopped, considering. What was I going back for? When he failed to remember, Gin gave up and turned his steps towards home once again.

It was really annoying, being in the city like this. He was better off not associating with anybody. Being alone was far preferable to…

…_all alone… can't run away… too young, too small, she can't get away when they come for her…_

…to living with… with…

…_she'll die, they'll kill her, just like they did you… do you feel it?_

Gin stopped.

What the hell _was_ that?

…_that baby girl… she's left for dead… an infant, and all the adults… won't protect her…_

Whoever you are, you had better listen to me. I'm not…

…_wolves… the wolves…they're coming to eat her… don't let them…_

Stop it. I'm not going back there. I made up my mind.

…_they'll eat her alive… like they did you, Gin…_

No, I was already dead! Don't talk to me about this, I don't care what happens!

…_the wolves are coming… listen, do you hear them?_

Will you just shut…?

…_THERE!_

A noise came off to his left. Jerking out of the daydream, his body drenched in cold sweat, Gin spun about.

In an alley beside him, a mangy dog looked up from a mound of trash. It had a bone in its mouth, and was gnawing and slobbering on the thing, chewing it up with its teeth it ripped the flesh off the dead boy's arms and legs swallowing it down while his ghost shrieked and pleaded for them to stop because he couldn't be dead he didn't want to be nobody, nobody came to save him, oh please, I want to run away let me get away.

Ichimaru stared at the dog.

Rage broke over him, his teeth bared in a frightful snarl, and his voice blasted out, unnaturally loud, **"GET OUTTA HERE!"**

The cur panicked and fled, yelping forlornly.

Gin watched its flight, fuming. He untied the cloth satchel he had hung behind his back, letting the food spill to the ground.

Then he turned and went back the way he came.

For a while he was worried that something might have already happened in the interval since he'd been gone. This in and of itself irritated him. Why do I care? Really, why? Because she's helpless, that's why. I mean really helpless. Can't so much as run away. Even I was able to do that back then. So that's it. I've made up my mind.

Coming upon the derelict field, the silver-haired boy was surprised at how relieved he felt to find the baby still there and in one piece. Drawing closer, he knelt down, considering. She looked at him, and then away, and back again. He paid her efforts no mind. After a bit, Gin finally reached a decision. Taking his length of cloth, he tied two ends together to form a loop. He reached one arm through it, and sliding it around his back, did so with the other. The knot rested behind his neck. Reaching out, he picked up the baby gently. She squirmed a little, but nothing more.

Maneuvering her back into the makeshift sling, Ichimaru pulled the cloth out enough to make a seat for her. She fit surprisingly well, but still, he reached one hand back to secure her, resolving to leave it there.

With that, he stood up. The baby cooed, and he glanced back at her, keeping his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Hold still."

He then walked down the street.

After a while, there was a yank on his hair.

"Watch it, brat."

A second later, another yank.

His smile tightened. Better remember to cut it short from now on or I might wind up killing her prematurely.

* * *

Gin traveled with the unnamed infant for almost a year, mostly through the outer Hinterlands, but occasionally into populated areas like her home of Inuzuri. It didn't take him long to pick up on some rudimentary parenting skills. Apparently his charge required regular cleaning and feeding. Whether this meant there was something strange about her soul or it was just how all spirit babies were didn't interest him. Since she had no teeth (and apparently no taste for persimmons, dried or ripe), he was forced to find other foodstuffs for her. Something soft, like the tender inner flesh of cucumbers, or just soft-boiled eggs. Those were her two favorite things. Keeping her healthy demanded he learn to raid chicken coops, something he found came easily to him.

He hardly ever talked to her, because he knew it was as fruitless as talking to himself. Gin had little desire to pick up any bad habits from interacting with this little pink ball. As such, he had no problems killing in front of her, though he did make sure she was out of harm's way first. Whether animals or people, it made no difference.

In their time together, he tried to encourage the baby to walk, usually by dangling food in front of her. Or when even that failed to get her attention, he used his own silver hair, which she was apparently fascinated by and would always reach for whenever he slung her on his back to go somewhere. She was active and interested in the world, and hardly ever cried. Ichimaru found himself to be more patient than he had expected regarding her care, but never once did he feel any sort of affection for her. And she was clearly frightened of him at times. Sometimes all it took was him looking at her to make the baby whimper. That was good. She was his responsibility, not his offspring. It was as simple as that.

The girl learned to crawl, requiring him to keep a closer eye on her. Then a few months after that, she finally began to walk. Haltingly at first, but gradually with more confidence, until she could do so without falling. He refused to carry her around after that, which seemed to distress her. Something about heights seemed important to this whelp. Probably because she was so tiny herself, it was a treat to look down on things.

He used this to end their relationship.

One day, while teaching her how to climb trees, he waited for her to get up fairly high, and when she was busy concentrating on her ascent, he simply walked away.

No goodbyes, no parting words of wisdom. She could make it on her own now. If the kid failed to survive, that was entirely her fault. Gin had done more by her than she had any right to expect from him. The words he first spoke to her remained true. They were all in charge of their own lives. Relying on someone else to always protect you was as good as giving up on life. He had provided her with the rudimentary means to get by.

The least she could do was respect that.

* * *

_You can't kill him, Rukia!_

She sat in the snowfield, silent after what she had just learned. Sode no Shirayuki was sobbing in her lap.

_You were just a… baby, you would have… died on your own! But he saved you! HE saved you, after we abandoned you to die! We left you there, but not him! Please, don't kill him… forgive him! Please!_

The girl stood up.

_Please._

She listened to her partner plead.

And then she was back in that chamber, holding a sword while Gin Ichimaru shuddered and groveled beneath her shadow. Sode no Shirayuki was pulsing in her hands. She realized then that her wounds were all gone. Not a single scar remained. Her reiatsu had come back as well, allowing her to stand and breathe without effort. Rukia felt purified, like fresh-fallen snow.

She stared down at him then, in his white robe stained the color of death. With every breath he took, blood came out of his mouth. Gin was already grievously wounded, perhaps even fatally so. She stared at that form made pitiable by fear.

I hate him.

I still hate him, even knowing what he did for me. It doesn't excuse the man he became, or the crimes he chose to commit. He was a monster even back then. I don't understand what might have caused him to pick up a helpless child and raise her until she could fend for herself. He should still die.

But the fact remains he did it.

And because of that, I am alive.

Thanks to this murderer… I exist.

Rukia lowered her blade.

I can forgive his crimes against me. Maybe… even forget. It remains for the others he hurt to see if they can find it in themselves to do the same.

She gazed down, face calm and thoughtful. Gin had fallen to weeping softly, not even daring to look at her anymore.

It's over. The hold he had on my heart for all these years is gone. What to say to him, to let him know how things have changed between us?

Standing over the fallen demon, she finally settled on the right words.

"I'm done with you."

With that, the shinigami lady sheathed her sword. Stepping quickly over his body, Kuchiki picked up the small mirror from where it had fallen. It wasn't cracked, thankfully. She could see herself reflected in it perfectly.

'_Keep it, most beautiful one. It will be as graced by your visage as my own. And you never know when it might come in handy.'_

That vainglorious narcissist. Thank you so much. When I get back, I'm going to wrap my arms around him and kiss him right on his shiny lips.

She pocketed the disc, then glided over and retrieved her black robes, slipping them on and knotting the sash securely about her waist.

After this Rukia walked out of the room without looking back.

With every step she took, it felt like all her fears were fading. I am a death god. He is not. I am victorious, while he has lost. But I chose not to kill him. I do not treat death lightly. Whether you live or die depends on you now, Gin Ichimaru. I have nothing more to do with you, nor you with me.

I am going home.

* * *

When she rose out of the well, Yamamoto regarded her strangely.

"Did you succeed, lady of Kuchiki?"

In response, she held the box out and displayed its contents. "Yes, sir."

The old warhorse studied it closely. He nodded approvingly before lifting his eyes to her face.

"Were there any irregularities? You seem… different than when you left."

_You said a mouthful._

"I am proud of what I accomplished today, sir."

He seemed to accept that. "Good. You have every reason to be. Now, follow me. As reward for your service, you will bear witness to the unlocking of our victory."

* * *

"Chad using Rukia as a Hollow-seeking missile? That's crazy! Who'd believe that?"

"Oh, the gossipmongers were all afire about you and the other _ryoka_ for weeks after you left. You know your friend the Quincy? Well, the rumor going around about him was that he didn't really need glasses, and only wore them to look cool!"

"That's nothing. I've got something _wild_ to tell you. You know Captain Unohana?"

"Yes, what about her?"

"Did you know she has a glass eye?"

"WHAT? You're joking!"

"No, I'm not!"

"How can you be sure?"

"My dad's a doctor, he runs a clinic out of our house. The whole family pitches in to help, but according to them I'm useless and a threat to patients when I try to tend to their wounds."

"Well, you are a little overzealous, I'll have you know."

"Yeah, very funny. But listen! It's gotten so bad that the only thing Pops lets me do is eye exams. You know, shine a light in their eyes and see how they react. So anyway, on the trip out of Hueco Mundo, Unohana was healing me, and I said something that made her open her eyes real wide. When she did, I noticed that one of her pupils dilated, but the other one didn't! It's because that one is fake!"

"Incredible. I had no idea."

"Think that's why she doesn't do any fighting?"

"Possibly. But you shouldn't go spreading rumors like that, Rukia-chan would scold you."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time. Hey, do you know if she-?"

"Oh, speak of the devil, look who's coming this way!"

"Huh? What? I don't see…"

"Ah, me, I have a feeling the fighting's about to start. Guess I'd better split…"

* * *

Yamamoto stood with Rukia at his back. They were in the middle of what looked like a planetarium, with a great rounded ceiling that reminded her uncomfortably of the room she had left only minutes ago. There were pictures of constellations painted upon it, with what appeared to be actual diamonds as stars and bands of pure gold connecting them. She had no idea where in the administration building this was. Three tremendous doors leading in were spaced equally around the room, and there were no windows to be seen.

While she was contemplating their position, the Commander-General began to speak in his gruff, deep-throated tones.

"I, Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto, Commander-General of the heavenly host, do hereby renew and affirm my oath of office. In service to the King of Soul Society, I stand ready to protect his people and his authority, do swear to give my life for the benefit of those under my care, and vow to oppose evil in whatever form it may take. My word is my bond, and so I stand secure in it."

The aged champion held aloft the King's Key.

"In the name of our Lord, I command you to open!"

The four prongs of the Key glowed yellow. A swirling vortex of gray smoke appeared at the apex of the ceiling, followed by a rumble that shook the whole room. This cloud expanded out until it covered all the mythical portrait of the heavens. Its center grew darker, and then appeared to collapse upwards, forming a small hole.

From out of this fissure, a force began to emanate.

* * *

All heads in Soul Society turned at that feeling. Over the center of the Gotei 13 where the First division offices were located, a storm began to take shape. It swelled and expanded outwards, in much the same way that the Hollow miasma was seeping in towards the Court of Pure Souls. There was a resonance within the souls of the shinigami forces then, and they looked to one another, feeling a rousing confidence that earlier had seemed as improbable as their chances of living to see tomorrow.

They were aglow with the prospect of victory.

Upon sensing that tumult with all the rest, one figure alone stood unmoved.

I thought this unlikely, but not impossible. And so…

With that, the white-shrouded soul opened its mouth and began to sing.

The words came out softly, lilting cadences moving up and down in unusual warbling notes. So quiet, but filled with power, the song spread out from that position. The magic user clasped their hands before them, as if in prayer, and this served to amplify the spell. Backed by that supreme effort, it became as like bells in a monastery ringing out to echo across the land, reaching every ear, but perceivable only to a few.

And in this way, the Cloud Over the Moon was lifted.

* * *

Drawing his sword and standing in preparation for battle under the shadow of his colossal black ban-kai, Captain Komamura looked over in surprise.

"Lieutenant? Why are you not at your post?" he asked.

* * *

Zaraki Kenpachi immediately noticed how quiet it had gotten of a sudden.

Looking over, he was astonished to see Yachiru lying in the dust.

Before he could move to her side, someone beat him to it.

* * *

"Enough. Let's do it," the Quincy snapped.

"Excellent!" Kurotsuchi beamed. "Now, let us introduce you to your new soulmate."

"Allow me, Mayuri-sama."

She then yanked the sword from his waist and drove it into his throat, and with a look of shock the mad captain exploded into green liquid.

* * *

"Well, looks like our cavalry's on the way," Kyōraku Shunsui spoke lazily. Then he turned his head. "Something wrong, Ukitake? You don't look well."

* * *

Hinamori faced down the crowd of Hollows buzzing around her and the fallen Hitsugaya.

"Leave him alone," she spoke authoritatively. "He's mine."

* * *

"Save her!" Renji snarled, glaring at his horrified captain with slit-pupil eyes that burned red. "Save Rukia!"

* * *

Aizen looked up, eyes shining, a smile of absolute joy spreading over his face.

"That's it!" he murmured, looking over at a shaken Kaname. "I know why, Tosen. I know who I am!"

* * *

Yamamoto lowered his arms. "So it begins. The portal will not open fully for another hour. Now is the time they will attack. We must hold out until…"

Pain erupted in his chest, such that for a moment he could only stand in stunned incomprehension. Looking down, the old man saw the tip of a white sword protruding out of him.

He roared, and flames erupted from the wound.

She turned her head as the fire poured forth, gritting her teeth, eyes watering as she attempted to yank her zanpakutō out of the howling man's torso. It felt like it was stuck fast, though, refusing to come out.

"_Miserable old BASTARD!"_ Rukia screamed at his back. _"TRY TO EXECUTE ME, WILL YOU?"_

She pulled with all her strength, Sode no Shirayuki screaming in agony inside her mind. Abruptly, the white blade simply melted, leaving her with only the hilt and an inch of steel protruding from it.

But she was prepared.

"San no Mai! _SHIRAFUNE!"_

Even like this, virtually destroyed and blazing inside, her sister's guardian spirit remained devoted to her lady's commands. And so from the stump of a blade there sprouted a sword of purest ice. Without hesitation, Rukia located the right spot between the hunched shoulders of her bellowing enemy, flames still spewing from his back, and plunged the weapon in again.

The fire that came out of him this time was so strong it flung her back. Her ice melted almost instantly, and the charred ruin of her sword clattered to the floor.

An instant later, it was followed by the Commander-General, who pitched forward and sprawled face-first upon the ground, smoke rising up from his wounds.

For a time Rukia just sat there, panting. He was right, she thought, hazy and triumphant. I really could do it. That smiling bastard was right all along.

A whimper sounded in her mind, and suddenly remembering she jerked forward, snatching up the white hilt stained with blood and ash.

Sode no Shirayuki! I'm here! You're going to be all right!

…_hurts…_

I know it does, I feel it too. But you're safe now. I have you.

She struggled to her feet, cradling her closest companion to her chest, soul aching from the pain of the wounds they had received.

But they had done it, all the same.

A whisper of danger, and Rukia turned just in time to see Soifon lunging towards her, eyes flaring with hate and gold-tipped stinger extended.

Her own wrath burned with the cold of an arctic storm, and desperately Rukia reached for a spell, but too late. Suzumebachi's tip drove towards her eye.

And then it went spinning into the air, along with Soifon's severed arm.

Both of the women's eyes darted off to the side, just as a harsh voice intoned, "Bakudō 30, Shikotsu Sansen!" The next instant saw the shinobi captain pinned to the wall by three stakes of yellow energy.

Sealed to the stone, Soifon shrieked, "HADŌ…!"

"Bakudō 69: Silver Tongue Striking Asp."

Gray light shot from his mouth, wrapping around her throat and sealing the raging captain's destructive spell from emerging.

Looking upon her rescuer, head still reeling from everything she now knew about herself, Rukia found it hard to believe this person was really who he appeared to be. But something told her this was no illusion. In spite of the impossibility involved with even considering him doing such a thing, the proof was standing right in front of her, in the form of her brother.

Byakuya Kuchiki.

His gray eyes, troubled and more confused than she had ever known them, turned to the figure of Yamamoto lying crushed, then upwards, where the gateway to heaven was still slowly coming into being.

And finally, he looked at her.

Rukia stared right back, a fifty-year old fear trying to reconcile with what she had come to realize about this man in only a few short months.

Byakuya held out his hand.

"Come."

She hesitated, swallowing against the old instincts that had resurfaced along with her memories.

"Rukia…please!"

That did it. The old Byakuya never begged. This was her Nii-sama after all.

Rukia reached out and slipped her fingers inside his.

He still looked shaken, but determined as well. Turning about, the two siblings started for the closest exit.

And then they stopped, fear falling over them both like a shroud.

Standing in the doorway was a person robed in white.

The eyes of this new participant to the tragedy studied them, then flickered around the room.

Byakuya spoke first. "Taichou, I…"

"Move away from the Commander-General. Now."

There was no denying that voice, which was colder than any grave, in marked contrast to its usual state. The words were almost mystical in their command, and the Sixth division captain found himself compelled to obey.

The two of them stepped aside, and the white ghost floated past them, bending over their fallen leader. Spells were spoken, infusing that crumbling spirit with life, seeking to stave off death and diminish the damage to his body.

While the figure was so occupied, Byakuya placed an arm around Rukia's shoulder and began to move quietly backwards in an attempt to escape.

"Stay where you are, Byakuya Kuchiki."

He halted, only then recognizing the Level 90 enchantment that had been cast around all three doors, preventing them from leaving. It would appear there was no way out.

Less than a minute later, their captor rose, giving a satisfied sigh.

"He will live."

The speaker then took a few steps to arrive at the spot where Soifon's arm lay. They picked it up, examining the cut and the zanpakutō still fastened to it. Detaching the weapon carefully, this person held the deadly implement up to the light.

Then they disappeared.

Rukia screamed, Byakuya brought up Senbonzakura, and Suzumebachi thrust into her mistress' chest.

It pierced the _hakusui._

Soifon's eyes went wide with shock, her muted mouth hanging slack.

An instant later, the weapon was withdrawn, only to plunge in again, at another spot close to the first.

The _saketsu_.

At that moment, the master assassin slumped against the wall, all the energy seeming to drain out of her.

Staring in absolute horror at what had just happened, the lord and lady of Kuchiki watched that sinister figure turn to regard them with sad, weary eyes, holding the blood-stained spike delicately.

And then…

She smiled.

"Don't be afraid, my dears," Unohana Retsu spoke, face aglow with compassion and mercy. "I am here to help."

* * *

"…and Deviate, Ruri'iro Kujaku!"

Vines wrapped around Ichigo's limbs, and all the strength seemed to drain out of him. Zangetsu fell to the ground, out of his reach. The substitute shinigami slumped helplessly, staring up with total astonishment into a pair of glowing green eyes.

"I know," Yumichika sighed dramatically, running a hand through his shining hair. "Not very pretty, is it?"

_To be continued..._


	26. The Broken Spell: To Tell You the Truth

"Class is over!" their homeroom teacher Ochi sang. "Enjoy your weekend! Don't dawdle, now, run on home. Unless you have club activities! Then you stay. As for me…" And she swept her satchel over one shoulder, smiling in that slightly unhinged way she had. "I have a DATE!"

Sitting quietly, none of her students seemed certain of how to take this news. Apparently that was no concern for Misato, for as the bell rang she simply saluted them with two fingers and strode briskly from the room.

"I always feel kinda sorry for the guys she dates," Ichigo muttered, coming to his feet.

"Oh?" Rukia was busy tucking her books away. "I see nothing strange about it. This is how people find love nowadays, isn't it? Instructors should be no different."

"It's not her profession, it's her personality. Sometimes she gets this look on her face like she's imagining us all with our heads cut off."

He was wearing that pained expression he got whenever discussing anything remotely related to romance. Rukia found it entertaining, while at the same time wondered if now might be a good time to discuss the topic. He had brought it up, after all.

"Several of the books I have found deal with students instigating relationships with their teachers. Perhaps you simply aren't well-read, Ichigo."

The disguised death god could feel him glaring at her as she walked out into the hall. Off the way, Keigo was engaged in a vocal and apparently one-sided screaming match with his friend Mizuiro, who was absorbed in chatting good-naturedly on his cell-phone. She remembered him being described as somewhat of a rake her first time posing as their classmate, so it was probably a woman on the other end. Orihime and Ishida were walking off side-by-side. They participated in the same handicrafts club after school, and must have decided to travel together. Meanwhile, Tatsuki had Chizuru on the ground and was engaged in a most vicious display of a scissor-lock, quite effective if one were to judge by the way the other girl's face was turning blue. The rest of the students from their class were dispersing on their own.

Strangely, Rukia found herself considering all of these events in terms of romantic attachment. Keigo's fit was similar to a jealous boyfriend finding his girl cheating on him. Ishida and Orihime were standing somewhat closer than one might expect, possibly indicating a hidden romance known only to themselves. And the sight of two girls wrestling on the floor… well, she didn't have to be a teenager to make that particular leap.

Ichigo stumped past her without giving any of these events a glance. He seemed bound and determined to ignore the implications as well as everything else conceivably love-related in his life.

_Maybe you should take a cue from those books you mentioned. _

How so?

_You know, be aggressive. Tie his wrists to the bedposts while he sleeps and see how things go from there._

I'm fairly certain that was meant for comedic effect.

_Nobody was laughing I could see. The sound effects seemed to imply that…_

No need, I remember quite clearly. And thank you, but I believe I will look for the appropriate moment. This one has lost its flavor.

_Just confess already! He's been so gloomy since that night with the Espada. This might lift his spirits. Hearing someone tell you they love you never did a person harm, right?_

I have my doubts. Let me get by them, and then we'll see if your assertion holds water.

_He'll thank you for it. Believe me._

Their conversation ended. Tagging along with her student-turned-savior, Kuchiki considered these words as they descended the stairwells, merging into the swell of liberated teens in that chaotic yet effective dance through the packed halls that every high school student picked up eventually. It was hard to imagine anything more frenzied than this. With all the shouting and carousing, there might have been a party going on, but one that seemed intent on dispersing as fast as it could. And Ichigo certainly had his role as the first partygoer out the door down pat. It was like the tides parted before his scowl, and by trailing in his wake, the relatively tiny woman was able to avoid being bumped into or jostled and soon found herself outdoors in the late summer air.

She was just about to try and initiate further dialogue, when a familiar feeling brushed between her shoulder-blades. Turning, Rukia focused on it. She suddenly decided to reevaluate her priorities.

"Hey."

"Eh?" He stopped and looked back at her.

"Go on home without me. I've got some duties to take care."

He was surprised by this, lifting his eyebrows and peering skyward. "Is it a Hollow? I don't feel anything."

"Feeling auras was never your strong suit, Ichigo." The lavender-eyed female noted how he bristled at that comment, but it wasn't as if he could deny it. "This isn't something you need to concern yourself with. Just a personal matter I want to take care of."

Ichigo stood fidgeting for a time, like he was trying to decide whether he should be irritated or concerned. Rukia couldn't say why, but the sight of him all twisted up like this made her feel quite affectionate towards him. At last with a roll of his shoulders Kurosaki spun about and stalked off, hunching down and grumbling, "Whatever. Just be back in time for supper. Yuzu's making gingered pork, and she wants everybody's opinion."

"I will."

When he turned the corner around the school's gate, she gave him a few minutes to get started. Several of the students from class made their way by her, offering cheerful good-byes which Rukia reciprocated. The press of departing mortals thinned, and in that time, she had located her target.

He was moving away from her, but not with any particular speed. Chances are this meant he was in the same corporeal condition as her. With that in mind, she chose swiftness over maintaining her cover, and proceeded to run in the direction from which that sense was exuding.

Fifteen minutes of racing through the clean streets of this suburb saw her sweating slightly but still not out of breath. A good thing she had been wearing her school uniform when this opportunity occurred, it might have been somewhat awkward attempting this feat in a sundress. But at last the royal damsel's feet brought her onto a lane that cut through the green face of a cliff, bisecting it neatly. It took her only a second to ascertain where he was. By the time she did so, he had settled down beneath the shade of a tree on the top of the sward and was obviously waiting for her.

Apparently he wanted to talk.

Rukia broke off from the path and climbed the hill. Reaching its peak, she then moved at a more sedate pace over to where he sat, allowing her _gigai's_ heart-rate and breathing to return to a more natural pace.

As she came upon him, he stirred and turned to regard her, smiling whimsically.

"Ohaiyo, Rukia-chan."

"Ohaiyo, Yumichika-san."

Her comrade was dressed in the same school uniform that Ichigo had been sporting, but he had added a tie which was perfectly maintained and boasted a blend of aquamarine diamonds on a red background. During a chat she had with his fighting partner Ikkaku, Rukia learned that Ayasegawa had spent a whole day back in Soul Society experimenting with the proper method of tying that particular fashion accessory, and had blistered the ears of some of their company with his curses when it didn't turn out right, according to the manual he consulted. None of the older members of the shinigami squad assigned to combat _arrancar _invasions had opted for such a modern and thoroughly unnecessary accoutrement, but the Fifth seat of Division Eleven was well known for his quirks. Although if he were trying to look normal, he really should have plucked the feathers from around his eyes.

Not that this would ever happen in her lifetime. Looking normal, that is.

He moved over a bit, giving her space to sit beside him comfortably. Rukia took him up on his offer, and they stayed for a time together gazing out at the blue horizon that rose to cover the whole world. Anyone who happened to come upon them would have seen two young students taking a break from their studies. Not two shinigami at war with the devil himself.

It was Rukia who broke the silence first, in a way that insured it would remain broken.

"Have you been avoiding me?"

Ayasegawa whipped his head around to his companion. "Rukia-chan! How could you ask me such a thing? As if I would ever miss an opportunity to surrender myself into the halo of your refined loveliness!"

_Does he practice these lines beforehand? Seriously, ask him._

She knelt in the cool grass, her legs off to one side and a hand resting on the soil. The appearance of ease this lent her was not quite as accurate as she might have hoped. Rukia was feeling somewhat flustered, so much that she couldn't even look at him directly.

"After you helped me," and we mustn't forget to ask about that, "I tried to call on you a few times. You were never in your quarters, and no one in your division seemed to be able to tell me where you were. Even Ikkaku-san. After a while I started to get worried. But then I saw you with some members of the Eleventh coming in from patrol. I tried to call out to you, but you moved off with them, and I had to go with my unit as well. I know that we agreed to postpone our training sessions owing to my obligations as the head of the Kuchiki, but even after Nii-sama returned to his post, you never contacted me to resume."

Her handsome admirer had a speculative cast to his features as he observed her now. "Byakuya-sama only came back to active duty two weeks before we came here, my dear Rukia-chan. Did you miss my splendid company so much in that short time?"

_He's doing it again. Don't let him._

I won't.

With that she locked eyes with him, and there was a plaintive edge to her words that hopefully left no room for doubt about her sincerity. "Please don't try to distract me, Yumichika-san. Just tell me the truth. Am I wrong in thinking that there is something off between us?"

He seemed taken aback by her serious turn of phrase. Ayasegawa was apparently at a loss for words, gazing fixedly at her as though seeking some enlightenment to aid him in this situation.

The prospect of being proven right was making her feel slightly queasy. How many close relationships did she have in her life? Not many, and of a certain, her friendship with Yumichika was one of them. Since the day she met him this flamboyant and cocksure man had acted towards her in a way that left Rukia believing behind all the gushy endearments and odd taste for battle there was an honest concern for her well-being. It was not that she had ever doubted that he liked her, but with Yumichika, one always had to wonder if his devotion to anyone could possibly match the adoration he felt for himself. The compliments he handed out so readily to her might be second-hand ones he had already given the mirror, a thought that had made the girl laugh when she first had it, but now left her feeling slightly sad.

"Are you…?" She hesitated slightly, but then bore ahead. "… are you done with me?"

He jerked where he sat, shock settling in where previously there had been confusion, and hurriedly she rushed to clarify. "I mean, our training! Do you feel that there is nothing more we have to gain from… training with one another from now on?"

"No!"

Yumichika shook his head violently, sending gleaming black hair and colored tufts flying. He then scooted over until he was right in front of her, and his hands came up to hover near her face. Rukia was astonished at the intensity in his features. After a while, his fingers gently cupped about her cheeks, and at this contact, his previous distress departed to be replaced with ease. He even smiled at her, that old teasing mischievous smirk she was always glad to see.

"No, my ravishing princess. Your knight hasn't abandoned you. If you tell me to, I will draw my blade now and proceed to get violently sweaty and dirty with you in a way that would cause any onlookers to blush upon seeing it! At this moment my heart and my sword are yours to command! Just give the order, Rukia-chan, and I'll bring you the heads of General Yamamoto and the rebel Aizen, dipped in gold with flowers stuffed in their mouths!"

_I can't believe I'm hearing this._

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," the sword's wielder dead-panned, giving him a frosty look that would have done her brother proud. "Were you drinking before I came here?"

And Ayasegawa laughed, letting go of her and slouching back on his palms, giving Rukia a look that was so radiant it left her laughing too.

"Oh, you're hopeless, you awful man! Are you really so totally arrogant that you would say something like that and _mean it?"_

"Naturally." The dainty fighter flung back his shining mane. "As the avowed champion of beauty, there is nothing I wouldn't do for its' sake! I might not fight fair, but my face always is, and that's all that matters."

By this point Rukia had dropped to the turf and buried her head in her arms, legs kicking wildly as she sought to hold in the breathless laughter which would otherwise overtake her. This process took several minutes, as every time she looked back up at him, he was sporting that heroically dashing smile which could only be worn by the most conceited person alive, and it made her somewhat giddy.

Eventually, though, she pulled herself together long enough to crawl over and fling her arms around his neck, shaking violently and staining his shirt with tears. Yumichika just smiled and held the delirious maiden gently, every now and then reaching up to stroke the back of her head in commiseration.

After a while, the noble lady of Kuchiki finally mastered herself and ended the embrace, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

_Byakuya would die of mortification if he saw you behaving like this._

_Aw, Byakuya Kuchiki can kiss my rose-scented tuckus._

The sound of another voice inside her soul caused Rukia to quickly lose her previous giddiness. She gaped in absolute astonishment, staring at Yumichika's beaming countenance.

"I couldn't agree more," the winsome warrior said as he adjusted his tie, which had come somewhat askew by her display of merriment. His audience continued to gawk in a manner very similar to Ichigo.

Who are you?

_You mean you haven't guessed?_

_Come on, Rukia, you know her. She spoke to you once before, remember?_

And then she did. A candlelit sanctum decorated like a Middle-Eastern belly-dancer, and while she sat on a velvet-roped swing, vines of energy entwined them both together, feeding her the other man's reiatsu until her own was once more at normal levels. Their parting came with a person she didn't recognize asking if she would keep her vows. What was the name he had spoken then?

Oh, yes.

"Rui'iro Ku..."

One of Yumichika's buffed fingers stole up and pressed against her lips, preventing her from completing the title. "Ah-ah-ah, Rukia-chan," he murmured. "Don't go speaking that name so carelessly."

_Awww, but I wanted to hear her say it!_

"Yes, but _I'm_ the master and _you_ are the weapon. So what I say goes."

_You parasite._

"Right back at you, Fuji Kujaku."

_ARRRGH!_

The sense of another zanpakutō slid away from her then, and Rukia unconsciously reached up to place a hand to her heart.

_They don't get along very well, I've noticed. She's as much in love with herself as he is. But they still work amazingly well together._

The awestruck shinigami was as motionless as if he had laid a spell on her. Ayasegawa had settled back against the tree trunk, hands laced behind his head and affecting a posture of total relaxation.

"Your sword…" she breathed in amazement. "You keep it hidden! The power you have, it's…" Rukia found her face to be flushed, and her breathing labored. For one heart-stopping moment she had felt the true strength of the soul that lay tranquilly before her, and it had been like a completely different person than what she thought she knew. "You're not as strong as a lieutenant, you're _stronger_…! I can't say, it's… hard to tell."

Shock and spirit-awe caused her to reach out and touch the earth, its solid presence assuring her somewhat. When she had finally mustered some control, the young woman turned uncomprehending eyes to her colleague. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

His eyes came open slightly. Yumichika gazed off into the distance, looking thoughtful for once that day.

"There are few enough things in life one can love unreservedly."

His plum-purple eyes, still wearing that shadow of solemnity, moved to rest on her lost features. "And doing what I love most could cost me my life. I don't mean dying. I mean the life I've earned as a shinigami in the Eleventh division. If I were to reveal the true nature of my powers, I would be ostracized by every one of them, even the captain. And I don't want that, Rukia-chan. Even if I face an opponent whom I can't defeat without calling my soul cutter's name, I won't do it. Not if anyone can see me. No one from my squad can know about this."

"But what about…!"

"What?" he interposed before she could complete her thought. "My duty as a shinigami? I keep it. '_We never give up'. _Those are the words we live by, and die by if necessary. No matter the enemy, I will never retreat from a fight. The same goes for the meanest, weakest member of the Eleventh. It's the example our captain sets for us. And we respect him more than any of the other First seats. He's better than they are."

Yumichika narrowed his eyes when she seemed about to call him on that, and Rukia swallowed her objection. "Captain Zaraki lets nothing come between him and victory. Not traditions or oaths or ceremonies or orders, not if they come from Commander Yamamoto himself. He understands his purpose better than all the rest. He knows that he wasn't born to fill out forms and answer summons, but to fight. If the rules say no, he just walks through them. They're not as ironclad as your brother seems to think. Nor is following them necessary. He didn't become a shinigami for any reason other than battle. Neither did I. If I'm no longer allowed to fight to my heart's content, then there's no more reason for me to wear these robes. And only under Kenpachi Zaraki am I assured of that."

"So that's the reason I do it, Rukia-chan. Someday I'll be forced to drop the charade. I'm not so foolish as to believe I can keep it up forever. Eventually word will get out. When that happens, I know my days of freedom are numbered. They'll kick me out of my division and some other squad in need of a lieutenant will snap me up. From then on I'll be stuck in a depressing, odious position where I have to shout orders and arrange people according to rank and be a role model for younger cadets. In such a vile situation, my beauty would surely whither, and my life would lose all meaning. But I'm determined to postpone that fate for as long as possible."

He quirked an eye in her direction, and once more a playful smile came to the fore. "And that goes for you too, my goddess of winter. You promised me, remember? Not a word of this will pass your lips. The word of a Kuchiki is their bond, yes? I have yours, so don't you go costing either of us our honor."

After all that, Rukia found herself to be quite speechless.

_Wow. Who knew he could talk so passionately about anything beyond his own face?_

True.

But what about my feelings?

"Isn't there anything else?"

"Hm?" The Fifth seat pouted. "Like what?"

"Family."

He chuckled. "Orphan, remember, Rukia-chan? The Eleventh is my family."

"What does it matter if you're an orphan?" And she crossed her arms determinedly. "I grew up alone, and now I have three families in two different worlds! There has to be something that interests you besides fighting. And doing it beautifully!" she insisted when he seemed about to raise a point. Yumichika's mouth closed with a click. "Even if you admire Zaraki, there's no way you can live like him! He's just not built like other people. I hate to hear you talk as if not being able to carve up Hollows whenever you please is a death sentence. I know something about death sentences, need I remind you?"

When he just gazed at her quizzically, Rukia had to resist the urge to plant a swift kick to the side of his head. "Yumichika-san, you've got to have more than one thing in life to look forward to!"

And at that, he smiled.

Reaching down, Ayasegawa plucked a tiny violet from the ground beside him. The color was reminiscent of both their eyes to some extent. He then brought it up and slid it into Rukia's hair. She felt his touch as it brushed through her inky locks.

"I look forward to your smiles, Rukia-chan."

Neither she nor Sode no Shirayuki could find anything to say to that, and so he simply watched her affectionately.

Before they could come up with a response, the cell phone in her pocket began to beep, while a similar ring was coming from Yumichika's pants. Withdrawing their respective devices, they both saw a dot glowing on the map of this region.

"Hollow," Rukia breathed.

"And such a small one," her tutor groused, his eyebrows contracting sulkily.

By this point, Kuchiki had already popped a Soul Candy pill into her mouth. Her spirit came free of the _gigai_, and she was about to sprint off, when she noticed that Ayasegawa had not done the same.

"Yumichika-san?"

He waved a hand. "Go on, Rukia-chan. After listening to your arguments, I find I am unable to bestir myself to battle. You can take care of this small-fry, I'm sure."

When she hesitated, the popinjay threw out his legs and crossed his fingers over his stomach in a classic posture of extreme laziness. "Not seeing you in battle will be my punishment for causing you to doubt my devotion, Lady Kuchiki. I shall bear it with as much grace and fortitude as I can muster." And he raised a hand to his brow and sighed dramatically.

She kicked his feet to let him know what she thought of that. When he jumped a little, Rukia smiled fondly. "You never change." With that, she flashed off the hill, soaring through the sky like an eagle loosed from its tresses.

Yumichika sat up to get a better look at this flight. When he could no longer perceive the magnificent flow of her black robes rustling, his head drooped disconsolately.

There came a rustle of movement beside him. Looking up, the flamboyant fighter found himself being stared at intently by Rukia's _gigai_, who was crouched on her knees just a few feet away. The stem of the violet was now sticking out of her mouth, and she sucked it back in and chewed a little before swallowing, never taking her eyes off him.

"Do you like what you see, little one?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"Pyon!"

The feathers in his eyebrow rose.

"Silly me. Of course you do."

* * *

Outside the barrier surrounding Karakura's facsimile, Yoruichi Shihoin sat atop a hill in the mortal realm and watched as the forces of Soul Society clashed with the power of the King of Hueco Mundo.

So far, things were looking good. All the Hollows Aizen was sending into battle were becoming worm-food, and now his three greatest Espada were preparing to engage an enemy boasting far greater numbers than themselves, with no particular success so far. Hardly the sort of overwhelming power expected from _vasto lorde_, come to think of it_. _Everything seemed to be going Yamamoto's way, as far as the eye could tell. Even her own.

Of course, there was one tiny flaw in this performance, one that apparently the playwright had neglected to take into account. It felt good to realize this. Meant he really wasn't God. And a girl might have her doubts, considering everything she knew about him. According to the reports they had received, there were only four known _vasto lorde_ in the ranks of the _Espada. _One of them was without a doubt the pale-skinned creature she had met way back when he and his pet rock came blowing into town, intending to ferret out Ichigo. And the other three were all accounted for here. Putting the matter of trust aside, it was a safe bet that count hadn't changed in the last few weeks.

She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes. The scent of the Hollows' rank miasma invaded her being. The cat goddess sifted them through her senses, searching carefully.

Nope. I'm positive. Not a one of them smells like that underwater leviathan I saved Rukia from. And it's just as certain the former captain wouldn't have simply killed one of them out of hand, let alone allow it to roam free. Not with everything he knows he'll have to face if he really wants to become King.

Which means this whole fight is just another sham.

Yoruichi tucked her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. A frown caused her golden eyes to narrow savagely. He was screwing with them again. Bastard. Didn't Sōsuke ever get tired of messing with peoples' heads? But it was no great surprise. Kisuke had assured her something like this would happen. Probably, maybe, 90% certainty, let's say. Those were his exact words. After all, what kind of underdog revolutionary does exactly what his opponent expects him to?

When she had relayed to her genius colleague what Soul Society determined Sōsuke's intentions might be in regards to Karakura, he had laughed himself silly.

"_WHAT? Use the hōgyoku to create an Imperial Key? That's insane! What kind of guileless simpleton would believe it was capable of doing that? Jeez, didn't they read the manual?"_

It _was_ pretty farfetched, come to think of it. But apparently the Commander-General had latched onto that idea as a fact of life and planned for it accordingly.

Which was what had brought them to this point.

"It appears that our side has the advantage."

The shinigami princess glanced over at the speaker. He was waiting at attention beside her, not standing out at all in spite of his formal manner of dress. Practically blending into the background, really. No surprise, considering his heritage.

"Don't get your hopes up. It's just another deception," she clarified for him. "The bastard's keeping everybody occupied until he's ready to spring the surprise on them."

"Ah. I see."

The note of defeat in his tone was faint, but she did not fail to pick up on it. Devotion to family, or devotion to one's duty. He had made the choice, however it seemed a tiny flicker of hope had remained that he might not have to go through with it.

Yoruichi knew what he must be feeling.

"You should leave now. The battle's in full swing, they won't notice you're gone. If we're to have any real chance of winning, you know what we need."

His mouth tightened, and smoky-gold eyes came about to regard her.

"It seems a risk, trusting that man."

In response she shrugged, a sad smile lifting one corner of her mouth. "Actually, what we're really gambling on isn't his trustworthiness. More like the exact opposite. Don't you think that's a much safer bet?"

"I suppose."

There was little confidence to be heard in his words. But this was one person whose loyalty the Lady of Shihoin had never doubted she could depend on.

"Are you certain you can do it, _otooji-san_?"

Her relative drew himself up with a look of offended dignity. "I have lost none of my skills with the passage of time, young one. On my life and honor, I swear, no one will see me coming." There came a pause. "Are you certain _you_ will be able to penetrate the Seireitei? They will no doubt have the _Ring of Fire _activated, and the gates will be warded against unauthorized entry."

"Relax," the part-time feline yawned hugely, moving her jaw from side to side. "They can't shut me out, I'm halfway in already. No magic can keep us apart. Now get going. You're burning daylight."

He bowed to her, and his royal matriarch gave him a wave of farewell before turning back to watching the shadow play being put on overhead. As he turned to go, he heard her murmur softly, "Don't do anything stupid, either." She rested her chin on her forearms. "Father's spirit would never forgive me if I got you killed."

"You will have no reason to regret using me."

The seneschal disappeared swiftly and silently, as only a member of her clan could.

Yoruichi ground her toes into the dirt, feeling restless and dissatisfied. So much depended on what they believed they could trust, both in terms of people and fortune itself. How strong they were, how fast they could be, what the enemy believed and what they and their friends hoped. It all seemed like such a toss-up, really, and when it was over, who's to say just which of them might be wearing the crown of Soul Society?

But they had to try.

The Lady of the Shihoin had sworn to defeat the Lord of the Takuiyoku, even if she had to die a horrible death to do it.

Make no mistake, monster, she thought, rising to her feet. You will never hold power over the people I love. Not even for a moment.

So resolved, she went to find Kisuke, and confirm the final stages of their plan.

* * *

At the sorceress' command, an ancient spell was lifted. The Moon had come out from behind the Cloud.

And so they all remembered.

The flowers in the garden, some who had been sleeping for centuries, were at last permitted to bloom.

* * *

Drawing his sword and standing in preparation for battle under the shadow of his colossal black ban-kai, Captain Komamura looked over in surprise.

"Lieutenant? Why are you not at your post?" he asked.

No response.

The canine captain's brow furrowed. "Answer me, Izuru-fukutaichou! Why have you abandoned your duty?"

Izuru Kira looked at him steadily.

"I haven't, Taichou."

His hooked sword was held loosely in his hand. The blond lieutenant looked completely calm.

"I am here to fulfill it."

And then he leapt up.

So high, there might have been wings beneath his robes. Like that feathered idiot he had put to death earlier. But Kira put those thoughts firmly from his mind. He knew what he had to do. The metal monstrosity Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō turned to regard him slowly.

Wabisuke struck.

Ensorcelled steel licked out like a sparrow darting its tongue, striking the black giant's sword arm no less than five times. Instantly that appendage weighed thirty-two times as much as it previously had, and it came crashing to earth, bearing the rest of the forbidding Oriental Talos with it.

Sure enough, Saijin Komamura followed right behind.

The Seventh division captain gritted his teeth, stricken with disbelief by what had been done to him. His ban-kai mimicked his own movements, as everyone knew. But now that connection had been reversed. As the behemoth collapsed, so did he. His arm had been rendered so heavy he couldn't move it, almost as if his bones were transformed to lead.

There was no time to even attempt a rescue. As the surrounding shinigami watched in horror, Izuru flashed over the bended samurai statue, his zanpakutō working its power over and over. The arms, the back, the head; he struck them all as swiftly as he could, many times over. A few of the more resourceful defenders rushed forward to attack him or fired off kidō, but far too late. Kokujō Tengen Myō'ōnow was incapable of standing under its own advanced weight, and with a roar it tumbled forward, striking the ground and sending everyone in that vicinity to their knees with the force of its impact.

Komamura knelt before his war machine in the exact same position. His fingers were wrapped around his zanpakutō Tengen, too heavy for him to move them. He could not release the blade, and so he could not dispel its ban-kai. Huffing and straining under a weight even his powerful body could not support, the mighty warrior sought desperately to break free from this treacherous spell.

"My regrets, Komamura-san. Your battles are over."

His feral ears pricked up, and a bestial snarl tore from his great chest.

And then the tip of a wakizashi plunged into his body.

Saijin shuddered, the sheer horror of the attack made worse by the fact that he was still incapable of moving to defend himself. Helpless, he felt as his _hakusui_, one of a pair of spots on his body governing spirit energy, was torn apart, followed by the ghastly sensation as the weapon slid out of him. The noble soul immediately knew that he was less than what he had been a moment ago. No time remained to consider this debilitating sensation, for in the next instant Kira grimly stabbed him in the back once again, destroying his _saketsu_, the other supernatural chi spot.

_Komamura!_

His ban-kai vanished. There was no longer any spiritual energy infusing it. A faint cry lingered as the muted vessel dissolved into the wind, the power of the zanpakutō Tenken disappearing forever from the world.

In under a minute, Captain Saijin Komamura, selfless spirit and valiant shinigami, was reduced to a crippled shell of a man.

"You have been retired," Izuru stated coldly from his position over the bleeding figure.

* * *

Zaraki Kenpachi immediately noticed how quiet it had gotten of a sudden.

Looking over, he was astonished to see Yachiru lying in the dust.

Before he could move to her side, someone beat him to it.

Hisagi Shūhei dashed forward and knelt beside his fellow lieutenant, gathering her tiny form under one arm. Zaraki moved towards him, not recognizing friend or foe, only filled with the anger of a parent upon finding his daughter injured somehow. He didn't stop to wonder why this man was here when he was stationed elsewhere on the front lines.

What he did see was that the zanpakutō Kazeshini was out, and the most vicious bloodlust was spilling out of the twin scythe-blade.

When Shūhei looked up at the maddened giant bearing down on him, he did what he had been instructed to do, and brought the edge of his soul cutter to the sleeping child's throat.

Instantly Zaraki froze.

The captain's face was set in an expressionless mask, but in his single visible eye there was a promise of hideous death like no other soul could bring. The lieutenant couldn't keep from shivering at the deadly reiatsu crawling all over his flesh. Pain from the berserker's killing intent traced vicious cuts like knives all into and through him. But he had been prepared for this. And it was nothing compared to the shame he felt for himself with his next words.

"I'll kill her."

_We will, yes, we will! I've been waiting for this, to really cut loose! Don't know what finally made you change your mind and man up, but it was a long time coming, buddy-boy!_

Shut up. You've got nothing to do with this, you trash.

_Don't kid yourself! This is ALL me!_

Ignoring the hideous snickering voice that gleefully hounded him everywhere he went, the battle-scarred Second seat focused on the immediate danger of the Kenpachi.

"I'll kill _you."_

The way Zaraki said it dispelled Hisagi's last lingering hope that he might survive this day. It had been a foolish notion, really. He was well rid of it. Living after what he had resolved to do, even if it turned out he didn't really have to go through with it… the thought didn't bear considering. And it did nothing to alter his conviction. All his years of training under Kaname Tosen had led to this day. Not practice with the sword, but more wrestling with his own spirit. Overcoming all the horror and self-doubt that had plagued him after his captain had revealed himself and his true intentions, along with what he had asked from his loyal lieutenant. It had taken many years for him to come to grips with what his venerated elder proposed, in spite of the blind man's insistence that it was necessary and even just somehow. Many was the time he had roused from beneath his spell, seeing that grim figure before him and remembering once again everything that they had discussed before, and gone for his sword.

But eventually, the renegade had won him over. He could not match the captain in a fight. However, Tosen never killed him afterwards. Always he bandaged his grieving, devastated lieutenant's wounds, and proceeded to speak with him once more, going over again all that they knew about one another. It was a bitter pill to swallow, learning that he had served and would continue to serve under a traitor. Always when they were finished, the enchanted drink would come forth, and he would be required to swallow it, this meeting and all the rest submerged deep into his subconscious. Only when Kaname felt it was time for another heart-to-heart was that spell lifted.

After a while, Hisagi had found his resolve slipping under the relentless push of the other man's will. When first he found this happening, he sought to try and deceive his jailor, pretend that he was succumbing to Tosen's arguments and powers of persuasion. That way when the time came for their insidious plan to be activated, he could work to prevent it.

This proved to be folly. That sightless, impassive face heard him speak, and then ignored everything he said. It was no use attempting to beguile him. Kaname Tosen knew well what it was like to be lied to, and he judged his unwilling student's temperament perhaps even better than Shūhei did. That was why he never lost hope. The captain kept right on working with him, breaking through his defenses, seizing upon the flaws in his arguments and skillfully bending them to his own ends. Aizen had taught his disciple well.

And eventually, the former star-student of the shinigami academy stepped out of the light and into his master's world of darkness.

"_We must make sacrifices," _the deadly soft voice had whispered to him, always fading away into the endless night of Tosen's ban-kai while Hisagi remained in it, helpless to leave. _"You must be willing to do more than die. You must be ready to kill, no matter who falls to your blade. Only one who has accepted their goal as more important than their own life can be assured of achieving it. Fight for me, Hisagi-san. Help me to end this unjust world that weighs down our spirits with its petty daily cruelties. Listen to the voice in your soul that you have forsaken for so long. Reap lives, if you must, and then reap the whirlwind of penitence for it. Do what you consider evil, and do so willing to die as punishment for it. Then you shall truly be a just man."_

Here and now, he had accepted the truth in those words, and was willing to prove it.

"There is a bomb inside me, Captain Zaraki," he whispered. "If you kill me, it will explode, and take her with me." Hisagi indicated Yachiru. "You might be able to kill me before my blade cuts her throat, but she won't live to appreciate it."

Several meters away from them, the members of Squad Eleven had drawn up short around where their midget mascot was being clearly threatened. Although many of them bore the same looks of frothing homicidal rage at what Hisagi was doing as their captain, they could not draw any closer. Zaraki's murderous reiatsu was spilling out at such a level of intensity that they couldn't approach him. Only someone of lieutenant caliber could withstand such a withering display of power.

"You are going to stay here, Captain Zaraki," the fallen angel continued speaking quietly, watching as his opponent seemed to vibrate at the effort of holding himself back from Hisagi's throat. "You will not give battle this day. Any attempt to leave means your subordinate's death."

The hardest thing for him to accept was the idea that Kenpachi could be coerced into avoiding battle. At first it had seemed an even crazier prospect than the idea that his respected leader could betray Soul Society. But Tosen had assured him there was a way. He had it on very good authority; the one thing that could be depended upon to quiet the hurricane of that monster's blood-lust was concern for his adopted daughter. And though they had each been revolted by the idea of threatening the innocent Kusajishi, much less doing her harm, eventually both men had come to grips with themselves, recognizing that in order to end the calamitous war that had plagued the afterlife for millennia, they might have to stain their hands.

It's all right, Hisagi told himself. Captain promised me that if I did wind up killing her, he wouldn't let me suffer with the knowledge for long. I'll die too, Yachiru, he thought, flicking a glance down at his insensate hostage. I know that comes as no comfort, but please understand that I am not a monster.

I'm only doing what I think is just.

Zaraki sucked in air through his nostrils, and spoke.

"You…"

"No talking."

The hungry scythe drew a thin line of blood along the girl's pink throat, and the thrill of pleasure that came from his soul made him want to die right there. But Hisagi's resolve was firm. He would not fail in his duty.

"You cannot dissuade me, Taichou. I am not one of your soldiers anymore, so you also cannot order me. Therefore, we have nothing to discuss. The war is over. Accept it." Cold, black eyes stared into the spike-crowned lunatic's murderous visage. "Accept that Aizen has won."

* * *

"Enough. Let's do it," the Quincy snapped.

"Excellent!" Kurotsuchi beamed. "Now, let us introduce you to your new soulmate."

"Allow me, Mayuri-sama."

She then yanked the sword from his waist and drove it into his throat, and with a look of shock the mad captain exploded into green liquid.

It had happened so fast, and came out of nowhere so abruptly. This was no doubt why Ishida could do nothing but stand there and watch.

At first the thought occurred to him: this must be part of the procedure. Maybe he plans for me to swallow him or something equally disgusting, like I have to eat the thing in the jar and use his body to wash it down.

No.

No, that's idiotic. Don't out-think yourself, it's your greatest weakness. Father always told you that. What happened right now is as simple as it appeared, and that is...

Nemu just killed Mayuri.

She was standing there, holding her master's sword still dripping with his remains. What looked to be green syrup covered her from foot to crown, and more of the gelatinous mass spread all around her from the heap of empty clothes. Vaguely it came to Uryū that had she not been standing right in front of him, he would have gotten sprayed with the evidence of her patricide as well. Thank heaven for small favors.

Nemu…

Nemu _killed _Mayuri?

The idea left him somewhat weak in the knees. Granted, the man deserved to die, and no doubt she had as good a reason to do it as anyone. Maybe more, from what I've seen. But… but NEMU? It defied belief! No way could she do it, he knew how devoted she was to her abusive parent, as messed-up as their relationship might be. She couldn't do it, she…

_[How DARE you raise your hand against me, you impertinent FILTH!]_

Couldn't.

And suddenly it all came rushing back to the mortal mage. His fight with Mayuri months ago, in which the captain had survived only by seeming to fatally stab himself with his own sword. The result of this last-ditch maneuver was that the madman's body was reduced to mobile talking goo that reputedly couldn't be injured. He had been too drained from the encounter to test that assertion. Even as this memory caused Ishida's stomach to churn, he was further revolted by the sight of the mass once again pulling a scene straight from 'The Blob', congealing together and making what might be considered a bid for freedom.

As Mayuri attempted to retreat from the room, the impassive Nemu simply gestured, and immediately something that looked like a vacuum cleaner descended from the golden ceiling and proceeded to suck up her spreading creator. In a moment, the high school student and the science project were left alone together.

Once more, Ishida found himself at a loss to understand the situation.

"Wha… Nemu-san… why…"

More than this was apparently beyond him, but when the classically beautiful woman turned to look at him for the first time since her abrupt coup d'état, she appeared to understand where he was coming from.

"I am the daughter of Mayuri Kurotsuchi, but he was not alone in creating me." The lieutenant of Squad Twelve spoke in the same voice unhindered by emotion as she was normally wont to use. She appeared in no way disturbed or elated by what she had done. "One other contributed to my assembly. Ostensibly the purpose of my creation was to provide the Twelfth division with a suitable lieutenant, according to Mayuri-sama's wishes. But his contributor had another purpose in mind. This was to artificially engineer what they could not find on their own, a person who could be counted on to get close to Mayuri-sama without arousing his suspicions. When the time was right, I was programmed to react in the way that you have just seen, and remove Captain Kurotsuchi from the coming conflict without injuring him."

Nemu turned away, and for a brief moment, he could have sworn he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

"My purpose has been fulfilled. I must now ensure that no harm may come to my master in his incapacitated state, according to the wishes of my other creator."

She then walked from the room, leaving the Quincy staring aghast.

"Wha…?"

He shuddered, feeling frightened in a way he had not permitted himself to be since first being dropped into this gold-plated spider's lair. Then Ishida raced after her.

"Nemu-san, wait! What are you talking about? Who was it that told you to….?"

But Uryū was a clever person. In the time it took him to reach her side, he had already figured it out.

And it was then that he knew true fear.

* * *

"Well, looks like our cavalry's on the way," Kyōraku Shunsui spoke lazily. Then he turned his head. "Something wrong, Ukitake? You don't look well."

Jūshirō stared at his beloved friend, eyes wide in a pale face. He opened his mouth to speak.

And a wash of dark blood gushed out to splash Shunsui's robes red.

Then the snow-haired captain collapsed.

Stunned, his partner was just about to rush to his aid, when everything he thought he knew about himself went wrong.

It started with an itching in his skin. This was followed by the most debilitating fatigue he had ever experienced, enough to send him pitching earthwards to join Ukitake. It felt like all the muscles in the super-powerful shinigami's body had turned to jelly in an instant. The impact with the ground hurt abominably, much worse than any wound he had experienced in all his long life. While Kyōraku was still struggling to come to terms with this unexpected assault, his stomach clenched with agonizing cramps, causing him to seize up and lie there trembling in a pain-wracked ball.

Beside him, Jūshirō was hardly conscious. The symptoms he was experiencing were nothing new, he had been having them off and on for over seven-hundred years. It was their intensity, and the fact that they seemed to attack him all at once. His condition was something that only a few people were permitted to know about, much less see. But even his faithful subordinates Kiyone and Sentarō would have been shocked by how swiftly he had been laid low. Spitting up blood, fighting to breathe against the awful knife twisting in his lungs, the gentle man still struggled to speak to his oldest, dearest friend, not recognizing the condition the other fighter lay in.

He felt someone coming up behind him, and knew relief when he recognized their reiatsu. Help had arrived, and right when he needed it the most.

"Oh, my."

A shiver stole over him then, for what he could not say.

"Look at you both, lying there. What would the lesser shinigami think if they saw you now? How furious Yamamoto would be, to have his prized sons indulging in such disgraceful weakness. Such things are not permitted, you know."

Then there was a sound neither man liked. It was a sword being drawn from its sheathe. This event seemed to take longer than normal, like it was a very long weapon, or perhaps the person extracting it was simply taking their time.

"He's never understood just how fragile lesser men are. Yamamoto is so beastly powerful, it prevents him from truly commiserating with people when they reach their limits. He's never had reason to test his own, after all. Not even when he fought me. That's why the old man reacts so very poorly in the face of what he considers infirmity in others, whether in spirit or character. He doesn't understand what it's really like to experience weakness."

"But I know."

Lying face-down, Ukitake felt a person holding a sword bend over him.

"And you do too. Don't you, Ukitake-kun? So does Kyōrakū-kun over there, even if he never knew it like you did. Everyone knows your sickness has been eating you out for centuries, but they never stopped to consider the damage our dear Shunsui had been willfully inflicting on himself without fail. Did he really think he could drink as much as he does for as long as he has, and not experience any ill effects at all? Actually, the only thing keeping him upright for the last four hundred years has been me. He never realized it, but all those check-ups I gave him, I was gently propping him up. Infusing his spirit with my power, just as I've been doing with you; enough to keep him from noticing the damage he was doing and remain seemingly hale and hearty. Of course, he just attributed it to his own staggering soul power. But the truth is, his liver was shot to hell long ago. I've removed my support. That is why you both can't seem to find the strength to move on your own. You've relied upon me without knowing it. And you've both hurt me, with your sins of omission. His of ignorance, and yours of silence."

Jūshirō could have cried. And in fact, he did. But not for himself, or what he knew was about to happen to him. Instead, the ancient soul wept at the realization of just how cruelly they had all been manipulated and lied to, by someone who had never once aroused his suspicions. He had feared her, truth be told, but only in the same way he feared his cherished sensei. It was fear born from respect and appreciation of their character, as well as the burdens they labored under, and had nothing to do with the dread now working its way through his heart like thick poison.

"Now is the time, Taichou, to regret that you never helped me, save when and how _he_ told you to."

When Unohana's sword slid gently into his _hakusui_, doing just enough damage to cripple him but not end his life, Ukitake wept, this time for the suffering he knew he must be putting her through again.

* * *

It had all gone so horribly wrong, and Hitsugaya had no idea why.

At first it was just Ichigo Kurosaki. Considering the trouble that kid had keeping his power under wraps most of the time, it wasn't difficult to notice when his unrestrained spirit energy just cut off of a sudden. Hitsugaya didn't think it was due to the orange-headed snot having learned how to keep himself under wraps for a change. True, Yamamoto had cautioned them all to be prepared for this exact event, but still, something felt off about it.

The disappearance of that tragic figure's spirit energy on the other side of the Court, combined with a host of conflicting reports, had prompted the Squad Ten captain to worry for Ichigo's safety. Maybe Aizen somehow managed to get the drop on the boy, or perhaps Ichimaru finally decided to show himself and had defeated him, although Tōshirō couldn't imagine the slippery weasel overcoming someone of that caliber so effortlessly. Then again, Gin wasn't known for fighting fairly and openly.

When the King's Door began to open above him, Hitsugaya made what he recognized could be a fatal error. He flew off to find out what had happened to Ichigo.

One minute it seemed as if all their prayers had been answered. The Kuchiki had contrived to evacuate the Rugonkai along with Karakura, putting those defenseless souls out of harm's way and preventing Aizen from realizing his primary objective. Then Yamamoto had finally gotten around to opening the door, setting off such a firestorm of reishi along the young captain's nerves that he would have felt it from a world away.

It was like a bell tolling the defeat of all their enemies. Tōshirō had prepared himself for the attack that must surely come then, going ban-kai as they had all been instructed. Abandoning his post, even for a little while, would probably get him demoted should they actually survive to receive remonstrances. Yamamoto reasoned that being thwarted so soundly would prompt Aizen to try and overwhelm them before the reinforcements could arrive. The traitor no doubt intended to establish a front at the point of entry, allowing him and his rebels to pick off Zero Squad individually as they came through, preventing the company of captains from marshalling their full forces. It was the only possible strategy he could have. After all, it wasn't like they intended to fight the King's protectors on their home turf from the start, right? Even the _vasto lorde_ couldn't be a match for all those captains at once.

The attack didn't come. Instead, what Hitsugaya felt was the dawning realization that the other captains currently in Soul Society were being mowed down.

First came a huge burst of reiatsu on the other side of their forces that was as fundamentally impure as Kurosaki's, but decidedly _not _him. Then Ukitake and Kyōraku, who had comprised the second line of defense within Seireitei itself, suddenly and without warning faded from his mind. They were preceded by the disappearance of Mayuri, who had been stationed behind the lines along with the other captains whose ban-kai were deemed as much a danger to their fellow shinigami as they were to the Hollows. In spite of recognizing the merit of this precaution, Tōshirō had never really liked the idea that some of their most powerful fighters were being held in reserve for when the rest of them, himself included, got ground up and spit out. And now apparently even that was not going according to plan.

When Yamamoto's power suddenly blinked out like a candle, taking the Ring of Fire with it, only then did Hitsugaya finally sense the full extent of what was transpiring. And so, he altered his course to reach the First division offices, wrath and dread causing him to fear what he might find there. Komamura fell somewhere along the way. Byakuya and Soifon were thankfully still active and already ahead of him, their superior speed playing out. If ever there was a worse time for the Hollows to attack, it would have to be now, with all of the war leaders seemingly incapacitated.

His gleaming ice wings furled in as the shinigami prodigy alighted gracefully before the closest entrance to these offices. Tōshirō proceeded to enter the complex, moving cautiously down a great hall that was normally used for processionals and receiving important visitors.

As he did, Soifon's power signature disappeared so suddenly it left him frozen for a few seconds.

"Taichou…"

Spinning about, claws and sword at the ready, Hitsugaya found himself confronted by Momo Hinamori, clutching her abdomen with blood spilling out between her fingers.

He didn't move right away, recalling all too well how he had been completely deceived just a few hours ago. Tōshirō was resolved not to be taken in by Sōsuke's trickery again.

As he was affirming this resolution, his childhood friend then held out her hands stained sticky red, hurt and disbelief warring for dominance on her face. Behind her, several Hollows suddenly clustered around the doorway.

"Please…" Momo gasped, and slumped forward.

He sprang forward to catch her before she could hit the floor.

_-Walls of iron sand, a priestly pagoda, glowing ironclad fireflies. Standing upright, silent to the end-_

The whiff of magic came too late, and as he touched her, a sleeping kidō spell was activated, slamming the icy champion to the floor, his limbs and back crushed under the weight of five chain-linked pillars forming Bakudō #75: Gōchutekkan.

Not…AGAIN!

"AIZEN!"

"Oh, stop screaming his name, can't you?"

One dainty sandaled foot kicked his zanpakutō violently from his grip, and Hyōrinmaru's ban-kai dissolved away. "I swear, it's like you think every bad thing that happened to you in your life can be attributed to Aizen-taichou."

Looking up, Hitsugaya found Hinamori glaring down at him. He stared aghast into her unfriendly gaze, and as he did she incanted another ward.

"Dull the serpent's tooth, seal back the viper's venom/ Lay a balm of steel bands around this unworthy witch's throat/ Bakudō 69:_ Silver Tongue Striking Asp!"_

The bane of spell-casters wrapped around his neck, preventing the captain from attempting any counterattacks. Tōshirō didn't know if he could have even managed to speak following this betrayal. Somehow it was obvious this wasn't an illusion. She was the real Momo, the girl that used to ruffle his hair and tease him for being shorter even than her.

A ring of masked demons came to encircle them then. Looking up, the beaten hero found himself less chilled by the cold glowing eyes of the damned than those of the enchantress standing over him.

Hinamori faced down the crowd of Hollows buzzing around her and the fallen Hitsugaya.

"Leave him alone," she spoke authoritatively. "He's mine."

* * *

Moving away from Byakuya, Renji suddenly went to his knees.

_**SLAY HIM! SLAY**__…_

… _BYAKUYA KUCHIKI!_

Lieutenant Abarai quaked as he knelt in the dirt, hands clutching at his chest.

Something had gone wrong.

Aizen had promised him that when his memories came back, there would be no ill effects. Just like all the times before, on the day he was called to fulfill his role in their plans, the spell's release would simply mean that he could recall everything that had been sealed away, allowing him to activate the hidden power that they had fostered within him. On that day, the ambitious lieutenant would finally be granted his heart's desire.

He would surpass Byakuya Kuchiki.

More than this, he would destroy the captain. The arrogant soul that had looked down on him, the aristocratic bastard that had taken his beloved Rukia away from everything Renji felt he had to offer her; that man would at last fall before him. Never again would Lord Kuchiki frighten Rukia with his cold eyes and insolvable mysteries. No longer would she be forced to live in terror every day of her life at what her adopted brother might do to her. Her champion would see to that.

That was the dream his former captain, the man who had saved him, offered to help him achieve. Oftentimes Abarai had grown impatient, wondering if the day would ever arrive, or if it was all just the grandiose vision of a madman. Now, at last, the fantasy had become reality.

The tattoos carved into his body, designed to suppress his transformation, had vanished, and his unrestrained power burned forth with the queer signature of both Hollow and shinigami. That was what Renji had been from the moment Natella Contracorriente infected him with her venom. It was part of her makeup, yet another of Aizen's experiments in Hollowfication. Even if she hadn't been able to fulfill her primary mission and kill Ukitake, he had hoped that she might still be able to poison the captain, precipitating the exact same reaction from Yamamoto as when the other captains had been Hollowfied decades prior to that event. Instead, he had gotten Renji. And once he had ensured that Abarai's soul was stabilized with the help of the sigils drawn into his skin, the aspiring king had worked to help him withstand this awesome power.

It was strange to think how Ichigo had simply fallen into his Hollow powers overnight the same way he had his ban-kai, while Renji had been forced to struggle and suffer for years to reach both. It was never a sure thing that he would master this side of him, much less survive. But Renji had learned long ago that doubts could sap your strength, and the only way to keep from failing was to recognize them as nothing more than your own self turned against you. It then became a matter of reaching the limits your body could afford, and finding what lay beyond them.

He was a Hollow-shinigami hybrid, charged with the disposal of one of the captains who stood in their way. That was the shared conviction that had bound the two halves together eventually, allowing them to coexist even when the demon was dulled by enchantments with its host not even being aware of it. They had reached a consensus after years of ripping away at one another. Renji Abarai would crush the monstrous Captain Kuchiki.

Except…

He's not a monster, is he?

_**What? Of course he is! You've known it since the day you met! Don't try and…!**_

…_Deny it, Renji._

"Abarai-fukutaichou!"

Several of the shinigami under Byakuya's command had rushed forward to aid him when he first collapsed, but the release of his hidden back-up served to drive them back, leaving a perimeter around him that was slowly being devoured under a dome of angry red energy. Isolated from them, Renji sought to come to grips with something unexpected.

It was the simple realization that everything they had believed regarding his captain was wrong.

He was never a threat to her. It was all a misunderstanding.

_**That's absurd! How can you possibly…!**_

…_Believe that._

He was her brother-in-law. That's why he adopted her. Not because he wanted to use her or demean her, but because his wife asked him to.

_**You're such a fool! It doesn't excuse anything he did! Listen to me, we have to…**_

…_Put an end to this._

Renji was gaining ground in this struggle. He could feel it. Supposedly once _Getsui Yokumo _was lifted, he was supposed to attack Byakuya and bring him low before the captain could attempt to interfere in their plans. That was where all his impulses had been geared for the last few decades while he had been tutoring under Aizen and Ichimaru. But that imperative had hit a brick wall inside his head as soon as it was released. All those years of hidden training, focusing his energies on being able to conquer the rancor of the Hollow growing inside him and bring its power under his control, had been geared toward the sole purpose of carrying out his part in the downfall of the Gotei 13 captains. Those memories were now a part of him once more.

The only thing was, the last time Aizen had met with him was about a month after his promotion to vice-captain. And something had happened between now and then that couldn't be ignored.

It was another memory. The sight of Gin Ichimaru sending his sword winging towards a helpless Rukia, and Byakuya Kuchiki snatching her away before it could strike, allowing himself to be impaled practically through the heart for her sake.

Looking back now, with everything he knew, the double-agent understood that Rukia had not been in any real danger. Aizen never intended for her to die. She was one of them, a realization that had made Renji terribly relieved when he first learned of it. The whole purpose of that fiasco with the Sōkyoku was to trick Ukitake into destroying it with the Shihoin shield they knew he possessed somewhere. Then they wouldn't have to fear the mighty weapon being turned against them when the time came for their rebellion to come into full swing. Sōsuke had hidden himself in the Great Spirit Library in order to locate the method of extracting the hōgyoku that Urahara had developed, and that the Chamber of 46 had sealed away along with the rest of his research. Rukia's death had never been part of the plan.

But Byakuya hadn't known that, had he?

And that was what made Renji realize the truth about the man. Even being as unaware of their true agenda at the time as he himself had been, Rukia's fearsome brother had risked his own life to come to her rescue. He hadn't known how safe she was in Aizen's hands. The Sixth division captain had only seen her in danger, and acted accordingly.

That one single moment had collided in Renji's head with nearly fifty years of unleashed hate and recrimination. And inconsequential as it might have seemed in the face of his colossal wrath, this lone image had served to hold the outraged pain in check as surely as a kidō spell defending his life.

Or perhaps, the Rukongai renegade thought, it was his soul that was struggling to rise up now, past all the lies he had bound himself in.

_**Don't you DARE turn your back on me now, you inconstant flea-bitten CUR! Not after everything we went through to reach this point! Don't tell ME that…!**_

…_It was all a lie._

She never needed me. Never. All that work was just for my own sake, not hers. I was just fooling myself, saying that I was doing it to save Rukia. It really _was_ based on a lie.

Understanding this allowed Renji to assert himself.

_**No, it wasn't just about Rukia! Don't you remember? We were supposed to crush this rotten system of living they make us bow under, tear it all down! That's…**_

…_What Aizen wants, remember?_

To hell with that. I never cared about changing Soul Society for its own sake. I only did it so that _she _could live in a world that wasn't filled with fear and pain. I followed her to the Seireitei, thinking that we could be together in paradise. And when I thought she was in even greater danger than when we had just been dirty vagabonds back in Inuzuri, I tried… to protect her. But no more. I want no more part of this.

It's over.

_**It can't BE! I was born for this precise moment, I…!**_

…_Won't let you take it away fro…_

"Renji?"

And it was right then, at the worst possible time, that Byakuya Kuchiki flash-stepped into the scene.

… _**FROM ME!**_

And the desperate Hollow brought its most powerful weapon to bear.

This was another memory from that time after the failed execution. The feeling as he, Renji Abarai, held a helpless Rukia Kuchiki in his arms, elated and defiant, rushing to spirit her away from all these monsters at last.

And the sound of General Yamamoto giving the order to kill him and bring her back to die.

_**NO!**_

_**

* * *

**_

The scarlet incandescence around the lieutenant's crouched form, which had been starting to fade only a moment ago, suddenly spiked, burning a patch of earth all around him to ash and soaring up into the darkening heavens. The unleashed spirit entity howled, and witnessing this, Byakuya felt the same presence that he had first encountered atop Sōkyoku Hill.

It couldn't be…

"GET BACK!" he shouted at the division forces milling about them. "GET AWAY FROM HERE NOW!"

They obeyed, disappearing to a hopefully safe distance, and only then did the white prince draw his fabled blade.

_He's one of them._

I know.

_You can't afford to hold back._

Then we are in agreement.

And so resolved, he passed death sentence on his trusted lieutenant for a second time.

"Ban-kai."

* * *

Renji's soul felt like it was collapsing.

_**He would have done it! Your precious Byakuya Kuchiki wasn't teasing when he told you that Rukia was sentenced to death. Are you forgetting he would have killed you had Unohana not arrived in time?**_

_Stop…_

…this.

_**I'm telling you, he's nothing but a rich spoiled MURDERER! They all are, all those damn shinigami captains! But Byakuya most of all. If IIIICHIGO! ICHigo KURoSAki, DAMN him! If HE hadn't stepped up to stop him, mighty Lord Kuchiki would have been cleaning Rukia's BLOOD off of Senbonzakura! **_

_No, you're wrong, he wouldn't have…_

…done that… would he?

_**Of course not! He would have gotten one of his SERVANTS to clean it off! That way he could also tell them to throw her body to the dogs and kill two birds with one stone! He's so very eFFIcient, your noble Captain Kuchiki! **_

_No…_

…more!

_**Oh, Captain Kuchiki, look at me! I filled out all the paperwork you told me to!**_

Stop!

_**Captain Kuchiki, I killed that Hollow you told me to! Can I get a pat on the head?**_

Damn you, shut UP!

_**Captain Kuchiki, can I get a raise so that I can take your sister out to a nice dinner? No? Okay, I'll just wait around a few more years while you RAPE HER!**_

SHUT UP! SHUT UP OR I'LL…!

_**Every single NIGHT, Captain Kuchiki! Stick your gold-plated COCK inside the woman I love and make her scream and plead for you to stop, while I sit outside the door and bring you a fresh pillow or a cord to gag her with! Maybe afterwards you'll be so grateful for my efforts that you'll let me have my turn too, WON'T YOU, CAPTAIN KUCHIKI?**_

I'LL…KILL…!

_**YES? YEEESSS?**_

**I'LL**… **KILLLL YOU!**

_**YEEEEESSSSS!**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Senbonzakura Kageyosh…"

"**BAN-KAI!"**

The cardinal flames erupted into a bonfire, sending a relentless swell of spirit energy out. Its intensity was so vast that Byakuya was knocked off his feet, skidding backwards and ending with both knees planted in the dirt. Before him, gouts of destructive reishi went scattering all through the air, incinerating everything they touched, living or not. Several low-ranked shinigami who had not abandoned the scene quickly enough were caught in the conflagration, and perished instantly.

At the center of the inferno, the captain's eyes could make out a shadowy figure coming to its feet. That form turned about, and the fire was dispelled.

Standing now across the way was Renji Abarai, surrounded by the hissing coils of his ban-kai, Hihiō Zabimaru, in a scene oddly similar to the first time his leader had ever seen it. But one thing was different now. The white baboon skull that had previously adorned his lieutenant's shoulder was no longer evident. Instead, a larger and more twisted version of that mask covered his face, and the long spiky hair usually pulled up in a topknot now flowed down his shoulders like a stream of blood. The sound of his breath was the same hoarse, deep timbre most often associated with Hollows. In the black eye-sockets, red eyes burned a hole into the captain's heart.

The level of power coming off this thing dispelled any doubts Kuchiki might have been inclined to hold. It was far superior to the Espada he had slain in Hueco Mundo, letting him know that it would be folly to protract their combat more than necessary. This time, there was no hesitation, no attempting to draw things out. Byakuya went straight to his endgame.

"Shūkei: Hakuteiken."

White wings with feathers crafted of a thousand lethal blades apiece emerged from his shoulders. A halo of incandescent power glowed above the nobleman's head, as if to affirm his transformation from shinigami to Archangel of Death. The blade that he now gripped might have held the core of a star in its depths so enormous was the power contained within it.

And all this the Lord of Seireitei called upon as he streaked towards his target.

In response, Hollow Abarai raised its bone whip high. Red energy spilled out from the spaces between its segments 'til the entire hundred meter length of it was engulfed in that bloody light. The head of the blazing lash reared up and trumpeted its unearthly cry to heaven, and as Byakuya rushed forth, the whole thing came down.

White sword and crimson whip met.

Their conflict was less a clash of weapons than a force of nature. The outburst spilled in all directions, power the color of blood and bone slamming against the walls of the Seireitei like the wave of a tsunami, and those death-stone barriers that had stood for millennia trembled and split in the manner of hastily-constructed levees before the same.

Eventually, the tumult at last ceased. Fully a quarter of that district was laid to waste around them, and who knew how many lesser death gods had lost their lives. The victor of that duel, however, was in no way unclear.

Byakuya Kuchiki lay crushed flat. His imperial blade was still clenched in his grip, but it might as well have been a wooden practice sword for all the good it did him now. The wings and halo had taken the brunt of the tremendous assault. Their radiance was no longer in evidence as they dissipated, leaving him with no more marks of heavenly majesty to speak of but still relatively undamaged.

And in spite of having been brought low, the prince of Kuchiki rose in preparation for the next assault.

As he did so, several giant vertebrae dropped straight down and encased him in their grip. The stack of cracked bone tubes immediately shrank down to trap his arms against his body, leaving Senbonzakura pointed harmlessly to the dirt.

There was no time to think of how best to counter this, as the Hollow was lunging towards him. Most of Hihiō Zabimaru lay scattered around them in a heap, but the head and a few of the joints were now attached to its right arm. As it came, that topaz-eyed snake skull opened its maw and spewed a Cero at him.

"Hadō 79: Harimari no Fugū!"

Between them formed a white pearl roughly the size of a basketball. This implement flew forth and met the stream of red energy head on, burrowing through it without harm and dispelling the assault haphazardly to either side. The strongest spell he could summon without incantation and still maintain any commensurate power behind it, _Misfortune's Crystal Ball_ then went on and slammed into the serpent's forehead to rip the skull free of its moorings and send it careening backwards.

As bad luck would have it, the homing missile did not continue its flight as he had hoped, having become embedded inside the splintered bone. And even this sudden disruption in its balance could not balk the Hollow's momentum. Before he could speak another word it had crossed the remaining distance between them and wrapped black-gloved fingers around the regal soul's throat, preventing any further spells from being spoken. It then raised back its other fist to strike.

This close he could see into the monster's eyes clearly, but there was no recognition to be found in them. It further appeared as if any forthcoming help would not arrive in time to make a difference in this conflict.

So Byakuya chose to take the enemy down with him.

Renji Abarai was his lieutenant, and therefore his responsibility. Whatever had transpired to bring about this state, it would be unthinkable to let the beast run rampant behind their lines. And so, he did as his sensei-turned-lover had explained to him a lifetime ago. First Byakuya formed the dark circle in his mind, the prerequisite for all demon magic. Then he imagined himself reaching into it, touching what was kept within that darkness, the sleeping spell he had crafted and hidden inside his soul for when there was no other choice left to him.

Byakuya Kuchiki prepared to summon Hadō #95, the forbidden _Kamikaze._

_I have failed you._

Then we atone together.

The young lord found himself surprised by his next thought.

Ichigo Kurosaki, you had best not disappoint me.

* * *

Hollow Renji cocked its fist in preparation to crush the pretty noble's face. It was afire with joy at the prospect after having dreamed of it for so long, and wished dearly that the man would scream at the last, so that they could finally hear it.

A hand came down on his upraised arm.

"She'll never forgive you."

**Wha…?**

The Hollow turned its head. Things had gone quiet of a sudden. It also faintly realized that nothing seemed to be moving around them. Smoke and fire were frozen in one place, like someone had taken a photograph of the area and dropped them into it.

But not completely. Floating by his elbow, staring at him sadly, there was a boy.

A boy he knew.

**You're dead.**

The curly-haired youth shrugged. "If you say so."

**I know it. You were trampled by a horse. We sat with you for two days. You died on the third morning. You're dead.**

"I didn't even get that long," another voice spoke quietly from behind. When the bone mask came about, it found a hefty-looking preteen with pudgy cheeks watching it closely.

**You're also dead. Someone stabbed you. We found the body in an alley.**

"And I drowned trying to swim away from the hoods that were chasing me."

It knew by now that when it turned it would find a young man with soft brown hair falling over his eyes.

**You were the last. After we buried you, Rukia said we should join the academy.** The Hollow that was once their friend and leader studied its old comrades. **Why are you all here?**

"We're waiting for the next to go," one of them said simply, though which was not clear.

A snort of derision came from behind the helm. **You're saying I'm going to die? Don't be stupid. I've got this guy beat. Just you watch and see.**

They all looked at one another, and began to laugh.

**What's so god-damn funny, huh?**

Amid the chuckles, all three voices spoke at once.

"You're so self-absorbed, Renji." They began to fade away.

**What's that supposed to mean? Dammit, get back here!**

And their last words came to him then.

"We never said we were waiting for _you!"_

Then they were gone.

The world remained frozen around him, though.

But it was nothing compared to the chill that stole over Renji.

"**Rukia?"**

_**Forget about it, it's just a fantasy. She'll be all right, we just have to finish this and go find her.**_

He stared forward uncertainly now, seeing the grim determination in Byakuya Kuchiki's frozen eyes. "**He promised me… if anything happened to me, he would protect her."**

_**He was just trying to shut you up, he didn't mean any of it. He's a liar. He lied to Rukia about her sister, and then he lied to you.**_

For some reason, he was finding it difficult to tell the voice of his Hollow apart from himself right now. **"She has to be all right. I don't care about anything else. Something's wrong."**

_**I'm telling you, she's fine! Now let's snap this daisy-stem neck, already!**_

But even as it said that, he knew it wasn't true.

"**You don't even care, do you? You just want to kill Byakuya. Rukia doesn't mean a damn thing to you, does she?"**

_**I've had it with this! Listen here, you mangy DOG, you're going to do what I tell you to NOW, or so help me I'll…!**_

"**Don't… don**'t tell me what to do, you bloodthirsty _Hollow! _I'm the master here, not you! YOU'RE the dog!_"_

And then the black ape plowed into him.

It bore Renji to the ground and wrapped its simian fingers around his neck, choking him. Above its furious snarl, he could see green eyes with red slits for pupils.

_**I'M NOT! I'll never take an order from anybody again! Not Byakuya, not Aizen, and especially not YOU!**_

He could feel himself slipping into those inhuman paws, his spirit flowing and transmuting into something else.

_**You killed me once before, but never again! You were nothing before me! I made you stronger! I gave you power, and with it you finally achieved some recognition! I provided you with EVERYTHING throughout the years! What did you have before me, huh? Tell me, what did you haaAAAAGGGGHH!**_

The hands fell away from his throat, and Renji looked up to see the Hollow gorilla rearing off him, clutching at its own snake tail which had sunk its fangs deep into one of the brute's eyes.

_You want to know what he had, animal? He had ME!_

With a scream, the Hollow wrenched the snake away from it, losing the eyeball in the process. As it did, the viper changed from black to white, and the zanpakutō looked down at its master.

_FINISH IT! _

Renji held something in his hand then, and it made him feel strong in a way that only one thing could. Without further consideration for what it might mean to his soul or his future, the warrior lunged up and with a glad cry drove the enormous blade of Zabimaru into his inner Hollow's gut.

His dark side gasped, reached trembling hands out to grip the sword in stunned disbelief.

_**You… what are you doing?**_

And the King of the Streets smiled at it. "What do you think? I'm getting stronger."

_**I'm…**_

"Yeah. You remember now? _I'm_ the alpha dog in this pack. You're just my bitch."

With a final despairing whimper, the Hollow was then sucked into his shikai.

_And don't you forget it._

"You said it, partner."

* * *

He cocked his fist back, and Renji's mask split neatly in half.

The separate pieces then fell down to anchor at either shoulder. Zabimaru's coils cracked and fell away from around Byakuya, and he stumbled backward, the suicidal spell vanishing in his surprise. Before him, his lieutenant slumped to his knees.

"Rukia."

Renji's aura had changed once again. It still had that unnatural taint which marked him as a hybrid like Kurosaki, but overriding this was the pure unmistakable tang of a shinigami and their zanpakutō.

Shaken by what he had seen as much as what he had been about to do, the First seat of Squad Six could only stare in amazement. As he did, his subordinate's head came up. The sight of his face left Kuchiki aghast.

"Save her!" Renji snarled, glaring at his horrified captain with slit-pupil eyes that burned red. "Save Rukia!"

_Byakuya. She needs you. Hurry!_

No more needed to be said. Turning on his heel, the shinigami noble took note of how the Ring of Fire had been extinguished. That made things easier on him. Pulling off his scarf, he whipped it around himself, allowing the enchanted fabric to work its magic.

An instant later he was gone, teleported to the side of the person who needed his protection most.

Byakuya came up to see Soifon lunging for his sister, and without a moment of hesitation he swung his saber and cut off the captain's arm.

* * *

Three unleashed _vasto lorde _plus one shinigami powerhouse in a one-acre radius around him made Grimmjow feel like tearing off his own head and booting it into the sky, just to make the pounding stop.

His blood was burning, and not in the good way he was used to. Every breath he took felt like it was laced with acid, and his eyes were tearing up, making him weep like a damned child. No Hollow beneath _Espada_ level could come close to this site without being eradicated by the destructive forces that had collected on a small hill in Soul Society. Even transforming into his released state could not fully alleviate the condition the _Sexta_ found himself in, and so he was forced to grit his teeth and bear it.

Then to make matters worse, Stark finally came bounding up in all its terrible majesty.

Coyote rolled over onto its back and tucked its legs up against its chest. Mad ochre eyes stared off into space as it held still. Suddenly the giant wolf twisted its hairless head around to focus on Barragan, panting and ears twitching.

_**Scratch my belly! PLEEEEEEASE!**_ the monster declared.

Luisenbarn's steed pawed the earth angrily, and a hollow voice came from the skull clenched between his fingers. _"I will slit your belly and strangle you with your entrails if you presume to order Me again, vermin."_

A rumbling growl shook the heavens, and the mouths attached to Stark's leg joints snapped viciously. Jeaguerjaques dearly hoped one of them would kill the other, just to lessen the migraine that was threatening to split his skull.

"Peace, both of you."

So much for that. Even sitting there with his legs crossed and seemingly meditating, apparently King Sōsuke was still aware of everything his subordinates were doing. Standing protectively with sword bared beside his master, the rebel captain Tosen bore a faint look of distaste on his face. Did he not know that he was broadcasting the revulsion he felt for his supposed partners for everyone to see, or did he simply not care? Not that it made any difference to Grimmjow. What mattered was that apparently Barragan was too full of hot air to make good on his threats, and Stark was too crazy to keep a thought in his head for longer than ten seconds. The skeletal emperor trotted off to be by himself, swimming in his cone of black reiatsu that all of the Top Four were emitting, while the _Primera_ had taken to gnawing at its own volubly protesting leg in the manner of a fox caught in a trap. Ulquiorra was crouched high on the branch of a tree with the captive Inoue still held by her throat. Which of them looked more wretched was hard to say. Fricking bat-man and his sickly brain, he had probably developed an obsession with the poor kid. Tough luck for you, girl.

There came a slithering sound, following by a multi-voiced cat's growl.

"You look like you have one foot in the grave, Grimmjow."

He glanced up at the ancient bane of seafarers beside him, and bared his fangs. "That's one less than your _fracción _from what I hear, Harribel."

His barb drew nothing more from that giant beauty than a raised eyebrow. "It was not intended as an insult."

"You concerned about my health now? You're makin' me sick!"

"Clearly. And I'm not the only one."

The truth of her statement was hard to ignore, and it served to stop any further attempts at saving his dignity, lest he prove the veracity of her words. Grimmjow was tired of looking like a weakling in front of any female _Terceras, _however short in supply they might be. Male pride was not something he subscribed to with the same fervor as certain other members of his breed, but it did have a place in his heart.

Green eyes and blue then watched as the mark of their presence continued to expand across the heavens in a display that forebode ill towards the pitifully outmatched army of death gods in the distance.

"You think we'll die today?"

Tia stroked the scaly head of one of her barracuda attachments patiently. "Not if Aizen has planned as well as he claims."

The constant pain lent him a certain queer verbosity, like death was hovering over his head and its presence let him know that holding back would be a waste. "Shit, Harribel, don't you ever just get pissed off enough to scream at any of this?" He flicked his claws out in the direction of their master, noting how Tosen turned slightly in his direction at the movement. "All we do is what we're told to, now we're told to do _nothing!_ Like the lot of us are just pieces in some game and we're not allowed to know any more than our next move. Sitting back and glaring at one another across an empty field, it doesn't feel… _natural!" _

"What's missing?" she asked laconically. The _Tercera _was not the most passionate person. 'Cold fish' certainly described her personality, but on the plus side, she lacked the overwrought character traits that made a vast majority of the _Espada _such an absolute pain to live with. The two of them had hunted together successfully, and there was no denying her worth in combat. While not what might be considered a friend (Hollows put little truck in such concepts), she afforded him respect, and Jaeguerjaques was inclined to do the same. This kept him from dismissing her words as sarcasm.

"Blood. Excitement. I don't know… Action! Does he really expect them to surrender afterwards?" There was no attempt made to hide the scorn in his voice as Grimmjow hissed. "He promised me a fight."

A serpent head snapped at her hand viciously, and the scylla brought it up to lick the small wound clean. She then lashed out, caught the errant party and snapped its neck with a sudden violent twist. The rest of her symbiotic mob proceeded to feast on the dead spawn, causing blood to spatter out and stain the bone hide of Pantera.

"Open war is different from what we have known," Harribel continued to speak as the feeding frenzy carried on. "This is an opportunity for us to take the offensive and permanently come out on top against the ones that threaten us the most. So that we don't have to be forever living on the run, waiting for the next attack to come. Even if we have always survived that way, it doesn't make for much to look forward to." Her eyes drifted over to where Barragan stood turned away from them, and now there was a glimmer of distaste in their sea-green depths. "That is the bait Aizen used to lure me out of exile."

The _Sexta _shifted restlessly. "So you're saying you'll just go along with whatever he tells you, never taking any opportunity for what you might want?"

Bronzed features continued to stare at the mounted skeleton king, and her lips twisted hungrily. "I'll admit to being tempted."

"Peh!" he spit. "You've got it made, you know that? You'll be able to fight all the shinigami captains you want. I'll be lucky if there's _one_ left on this side for me to take out."

She looked down at Grimmjow. "That's the difference between us. I'll almost certainly get to face greater opponents than you today, but you shouldn't feel so inadequate by comparison."

This offhanded comment made him bristle, arms crossed over his rumbling chest. "Keep talking and I'll show you who's lacking power."

"Not that. And don't get cute. I'm trying to explain what makes you superior to me."

Caught off guard, the pack-leader looked up at his superior in rank with an honestly surprised expression. She then bent down and faced him fully, all cold grace and restrained ferocity, like a tiger-shark drifting by a diver in a cage.

"The reason you can't suffer quietly under Aizen's control like the rest of us is not the same as Luisenbarn. It's because you and Sōsuke possess a similar quality. You're both leaders, Grimmjow. Barragan's just a ruler. He has no aspirations beyond making himself comfortable, and that's why fear is the only motivation he understands or instills in others. You have the potential to do more. You can inspire."

What? Inspire? _Me?_ The very idea left him tongue-tied, and so she continued speaking without interruption.

"Your continuing to run with this pack even after recognizing that you were not the strongest has served to motivate more Hollows beneath you than might be apparent. They're afraid of you, to be sure, but for reasons I can't explain, their fear doesn't cow them totally. Perhaps because of the example you set. Some of them are actually improved by it. We've seen you chasing after us, in spite of the dread you must feel. I won't pretend to know if you can become what we are, but I accept the possibility. Actually, just by enduring this right now, you might be one step closer. You do not recognize having reached any limits, and you strive to become more. Whether you realize it or not, that is the same thing that inspires so many to follow Aizen. And it's what makes you better suited to lead our forces into battle than Ulquiorra, Stark, Barragan or myself."

It was like the whole world shrank down to just the two of them. Were they actually discussing something unrelated to hunting or death, just like two regular souls? The realization left him rather bewildered. Thinking back on it, the _adjuchas _realized that this might be the closest to complimentary he had ever found the normally impartial female. Too weird.

He looked up at her. Like this, it actually occurred to Grimmjow how astoundingly beautiful she really was. If things were different…

He opened his mouth to speak, and a wave of power rolled over them.

Looking back at the Seireitei, they could all see a storm building over the white towers that stood at its heart.

While they were watching this, Aizen Sōsuke put a hand to his face and fell to his knees.

"AIZEN-SAMA!" Tosen yelled.

Huh, Grimmjow thought, astonished. He's down. Wonder if now might not be a good time to…

At that moment, he noticed Barragan turn his fleshless head. Kaname had his back to him, anxiously hovering over their leader. The rest of the _Espada _were apparently focusing on Aizen as well.

A gleam appeared in the deposed monarch's eyes. Dark red liquid suddenly flowed from his sockets, and he shifted his skull to one hand. Raising the other, a frightening glow began to coalesce over those bony fingers dripping with blood that he now pointed at the shinigami.

And for reasons he couldn't explain, Jeaguerjaques found himself leaping forward and interposing himself between them.

If his presence disturbed the undead _Segunda_, it didn't show. He still continued to aim his _Grand Ray Cero_, recognizing perhaps that here was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

It was only when Schiffer and Harribel streaked in to join behind the bestial hunter in clear opposition to him that he seemed to hesitate.

"I remember."

The sound of the death god revolutionary's voice let them all know that the moment had passed. Luisenbarn let his aborted treachery wink out in an instant, and fell to glowering at his unexpected opponents, who ignored him to come about and face their master.

Aizen looked up, eyes shining, a smile of absolute joy spreading over his face.

"That's it!" he murmured, looking over at a shaken Kaname. "I know why, Tosen. I know who I am!"

"The hell are you talking about?" Grimmjow snapped, feeling more unnerved by the idea that he might have just saved Aizen's life than how close he had been to dying.

"This is the time," their weirdly ecstatic leader proclaimed as he regained his feet. "We must reach the Seireitei swiftly. The seeds have already sprouted, we have to take advantage of it!"

"What?" his blind guardian looked perplexed. "But I did not hear you release the spell, Aizen-sama!"

"I didn't have to, that was always the plan. I knew I had to wait, but not the reason why. Now I do. Forget about that, we must hurry to reach her. Stark!" The former Fifth division captain spun about, practically sparking with gleeful energy, causing even the demented mind of Coyote to take notice. "Take me on your back, we may have to breach the shield to get in, and I will want your power to do so."

_**I'm not a HooORRSEOKAY LET'S GO!**_

The great wolf rolled upright and crouched on its haunches. Sōsuke sprang up onto the scarred black flesh of its head that showed the marks of a Hollow mask being removed, well away from the roiling field of mouths that was its pelt. Without further questioning, Tosen went to join his lord. Stark then rose to his full height, and the master shinigami looked down upon them all.

"The war begins, my _Espada! _Ulquiorra, bring the girl! Grimmjow, fulfill your duties! Break their fighting spirits, but avoid death whenever possible! The rest of you will accompany me to dispatch the King's forces once the portal opens. Our destiny awaits!" He laughed, then turned and pointed eagerly to the fortress in the distance. "ONWARD!"

The fenris bounded forth with a howl, leaping across miles in mad, zig-zagging pounces that seemed aimed for the most part where they wanted to go. His fellow _vasto lorde _followed suit without a word of farewell, Harribel going first, with Ulquiorra following behind after having retrieved Orihime. Grimmjow watched the dragons of air and sea diminish.

Well, that came out of nowhere.

He turned about, preparing to marshal the forces under his command, when darkness swept over him.

A skeletal hand seized his chest, and the were-cat gasped as something hot and foul seemed to burn through his skin, flowing up in a cloud to enter his nose and mouth.

"_Your loyalties are somewhat misplaced, little one. Allow Me to explain to you what your role in this war shall truly be." _The head of Barragan Luisenbarn came to hover before him, red lidless eyes staring into his own that were wide with pain and horror. The invasion continued, filling the _Sexta _up with unbelievably hideous power that made him feel like he might explode with ecstasy. _"You shall be My vassal from this moment forth. And your duty is simple: you are to KILL! Once Aizen has abandoned this realm for the next, you will proceed to slaughter yon shinigami vermin to the last man! Leave none of them alive! When I return, it must be to the sight of only our kind in any abundance. Reap this plane of all life save our own! I shall deal with the last of them, and then this world will fall under the rule of Barragan!"_

The Hollow king vanished, and with it the darkness. But the black seething power that had been poured into Grimmjow Jeaguerjaques still remained. Alive with a murderous lust, he threw back his head and roared.

"**ATTACK**!"

_To be continued…_


	27. The Broken Spell: Witch's Garden

As her memories were restored, Nanao Ise let her book fall to the floor.

"Oh, no," she whispered, remembering:

"_Aizen-fukutaichou?"_

"_Nanao-san! What a pleasure to see you here! What brings you by?"_

"_Sir, I…wanted to… congratulate you. I understand that you'll soon be officially made captain."_

"_Ah, yes. I've finally achieved ban-kai. Who would have thought it?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_Will you be coming to the celebration?"_

"_Fukutaichou…I'm not very interested in parties. But I wanted you to know that… you have my sincerest admiration. And I'm… pleased to tell you that I finished that assignment you asked of me."_

"_Oh, so soon?"_

"_Yes, sir. As you requested, I told no one of it. Here you are."_

"_Do you mind if I take a look?"_

"_Sir… it belongs to you now, please do what you will."_

"_Thank you…Oh, my. Nanao-san, this is splendid work!"_

"_R-really?"_

"_Of course! I swear, it's absolutely flawless. You should be proud. I knew I could count on you to do this."_

"_Thank you. But… may I ask a question?"_

"_Of course you may."_

"_Why exactly did you want an archive entry made detailing the creation of an Imperial Key? It was a very… creative method you explained, but really, if this is intended as a joke, I can't imagine anyone being fooled by it."_

"_Ah, you found me out, my dear. This is indeed meant as a prank! And you might be surprised as to who would be fooled by it. Especially since my spirit signature didn't go into its creation. They'll never know what to believe. It will be quite amusing to see who falls for it."_

"_Well, in that case, I'm glad I won't be one of them."_

"_As am I. Shall we toast to our individual success, Nanao-san?"_

"_I would be honored to share a drink with you, Aizen-fukutaichou."_

"A trick," Ise wept, clutching at herself in absolute misery. "It was all a damn _trick!"_

_

* * *

_

It was a beautiful autumn day in Soul Society, Ginrei Kuchiki decided.

Wrapped in down comforters to ward off any chill, the retired captain sat in his favorite chair on the grounds of his estate, contentedly watching the sky overflowing with clouds. A peaceful smile colored his drawn features. Absently he wondered when Byakuya would come to visit him again. Children today, they never seemed to have any time to favor their elders with a few spare hours. It was so sad. And here he had promised Hiroto to spend some time with his grandson. So wonderful it would be to teach the boy how to play the shamisen. He had such elegant fingers and strong artistic appreciation, it was only natural that the lad excel musically.

A sudden coughing fit caused Ginrei to forget any such fantasies. When it did not pass, he reached a trembling hand out for the comforting drink that was always close by. With utmost care the invalid grasped the smooth porcelain flask and hesitatingly poured some rice wine out into his cup. So much of it sloshed over as a result of his arm shaking that a small, lucid part of him cursed his infirmity. The rest only clucked and moaned grievously, sucking on his dripping fingers like a child before grasping the ceramic dish and raising it haltingly to his lips.

Black walls of clouds continued to ooze towards where he sat from both directions, and the former head of the Kuchiki clan wheezed out a chuckle, wondering if he would get to see lightning or if his servants would drag him into the house with them like a flock of frightened hens.

However, as it turned out, that would not be a problem either way, for the lightning came down to him.

A small green nub, with no great ear-splitting crack of thunder coming fast upon it nor even a terrific flash. Hardly worth remarking upon, it was so paltry, but it came dancing down out of the sky nonetheless. The dish was hovering right at his lips, but Ginrei had forgotten all about it, smiling at the sight of that meager little drunken firefly coming towards him.

"Little star, little star," he sang to it, gazing fondly at that viridian speck. "Come light up my long, sad night."

Once more grief settled into his frail, pain-racked chest. Where were the twilight days of rest he had been promised, the times when it seemed you had returned to the ease and simplicity of childhood? Back then, he had frittered away many a lazy evening in pursuit of those brief bobbing beads of luminescence, happily enjoying a freedom of movement and energy that had seemed absolutely boundless. Comparing that state of childish exuberance to the pitiful, drained shell he now occupied produced a stirring of true regret in the old man's heart.

How did I come to this, he reflected? Can I ever go back to the way I was?

The small ball of power danced along without purpose. In just a few moments, it would pass him by forever, and suddenly it dawned upon Ginrei that there would be a chance of something lost with that. The possibility of playing carelessly in the fields, singing and reveling in all the world had to offer him.

And so he reached up, no longer cognizant of the heavy weight on his limbs that after all these decades was as much a part of him as his own skin. Forgetting even his own diminished mental capacity, all the elder shinigami knew was the pure, unadulterated magic of a child seeing something wondrous and glowing right before his eyes.

Thus did Ginrei Kuchiki grasp hold of Don Kanonji's Holy Excalibur Blast.

A roar of power came with it, the thunder he had been promised. Green light bathed that impeccably manicured dale in an emerald aura. The flash was brief, the strength of its casting born from the heart and soul of a mortal wizard. A spell of healing, cast by a flamboyant Japanese television personality who for all his bravado truly was the single greatest exorcist of unclean magic to be born in a hundred generations of man.

It died away as suddenly as it came.

The shinigami lord slumped in his seat. The autumn breeze skirled around his motionless form.

A cup of wine slipped untouched from his hand.

Ginrei raised his arms, staring in absolute astonishment. The palsied, paper-thin skin of before was now glowing with health and vigor befitting a man still in his prime. He curled his fingers, feeling the power that now flowed uninhibited throughout his soul once more. For a moment disbelief reigned supreme. _How?_ What broke the spell?

The memory of a green light was immediately replaced by something far more urgent. It was the unhindered truth of a beautiful woman's face as she raised a flask of poisoned saké before him, time and time again, for nigh on a hundred years.

Rage that had never been able to focus on its target suddenly burned with an intensity that would have given Yamamoto pause. For a time the silver-haired ancient was so furious at the awful calamity he had permitted to occur that he could not find the words. But there was something. One word that he had come to realize in all these dark years. It had cost him dearly, but there had been no other way to try and warn his heir. So much truth wrapped up in one simple word, if you only took the time to think about it.

But no one ever heeded his warnings. It would have been enough to make him scream were it not for the power of the curse that silenced his true voice.

Now, however, he was free. And so Ginrei lifted his face to the sky and roared a name that his son's wife had died to help him learn.

"TIAMAT!"

* * *

The Kuchiki siblings watched as Unohana proceeded to reattach Soifon's severed arm without any effort. In spite of being restored on the outside, clearly this did nothing to remedy the truly grievous wounds that had been inflicted upon the Second division captain only moments past. She had been robbed of her spiritual strength with the obliteration of her _saketsu_ and _hakusui_. It was the kiss of death for a shinigami, so to speak. No matter how strong your reiatsu, there was no recovering from injuries sustained to those spots on the body.

As if in evidence of this, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni continued to lie off to one side in a pool of his own blood. The formerly undisputed head of their order was now not even registering on Byakuya's senses. Before the aged warrior had been like a constant presence in the back of his mind, a seething volcano sealed in the form of a man. None of that remained. It all seemed so terribly surreal. He wished to ask someone how this might have come about, but could not bring himself to address either of the ones who might hold the answer. Not the girl he had sworn to protect who now huddled against him, nor the woman he had counted among his staunchest allies only moments past.

He didn't really know what to make of either of them.

Beneath his touch, Rukia trembled, and Byakuya had to wonder: could any oath he had sworn, no matter how fervent, truly protect her? After all, it was now apparent that he had not the slightest idea the perils she had to face.

It was then that Unohana completed her ministrations and turned to regard them.

She had never been anything but beautiful as long as he had known her. More than just appearances, this impression extended to every word and deed this woman had ever undertaken. He, who strove to achieve perfection in life, had never needed to look very far to find an example to reassure him it was not an impossible aspiration. Graceful, virtuous, regal; Unohana Retsu had been all that and more. If she was feared, it was owing to recognition that the power she commanded was of a like to that of the Commander-General. How very fortunate Soul Society had been, to have two such unbelievable souls standing in its defense.

No longer. That was readily apparent.

The mistress of healing then took a few steps towards where they stood watching her warily. It was as if they expected some ghastly transformation to take place any moment. The sprouting of horns, unfurling of wings. Something suitably epic for such an incredible about-face.

But what she did was even more unexpected.

Unohana bowed.

To Rukia, in fact.

"Thank you."

Her voice hadn't changed at all, but it still sent shivers up both their spines, and Rukia's protector found himself tightening his grip on the naked sword still clenched in his fist. Neither of them spoke in response.

"You have my greatest thanks, Rukia-chan," the Squad Four captain continued as she rose up, deep blue eyes glistening with affection. "I knew that you had potential, but even when it became clear to me that Sōsuke had chosen you as one of his own, I never dreamed that he intended for you to be the one to bring down Yamamoto. Renji seemed far more suited to such a task. It was my impression that you would be engaged to remove our dear Kuchiki-taichou here as a threat once the spell was lifted. Please don't look so alarmed," she spoke in response to the horror that seemed to settle on both their faces, like mirror images. "I accept that I misjudged the strength of your devotion, both to our cause and to one another. Your relationship is based upon something deeper than previously believed, if it would cause Lord Kuchiki to raise his sword against another captain."

She indicated behind her to where Soifon remained pinned to the wall by Byakuya's magic. The fond way her gaze now turned upon him, it was like Unohana was acknowledging him as one of the people responsible for whatever had taken place here. And it was the disgust this idea awoke in his heart that finally allowed the stately soul to speak up even as he brought Senbonzakura to level between her eyes.

"Explain yourself," he whispered coldly.

It was evident by his tone that should her answer not prove to his liking, Kuchiki Byakuya was more than willing to separate Unohana's lovely head from her shoulders. The threat, while not completely ignored, certainly did nothing towards making her quail.

In fact, Retsu looked almost glad to avail herself of their attention.

"For two thousand years, ever since I first met Yamamoto and came under his command, I have been growing a garden. The seeds I planted in it were meant to achieve what I was not capable of: the liberation of our world from its place under that man's heel." She indicated where their commander sprawled in a graceless heap. Neither of them took their eyes off her long enough to follow that gesture. The glossy-haired goddess only smiled at their caution. "Those potential blossoms were some of the mightiest souls I could find, ones possessing both power and strength of character. I wooed them over to my side by simply illustrating the faults that existed in our world's new order, the ones that all the King's lackeys saw fit to ignore in favor of their own security. The slowly rotting husk that is our modern Soul Society has proven to be a most fertile loam in which to tend my garden."

"To be sure, I had to be careful. The orderly system Shigekuni created made it damnably difficult for me to conduct any private affairs without all manner of suspicions being aroused. Hence the need for some caution in my efforts. I am quite the puissant sorceress, as you both surely know by now. And I capitalized on my strengths to ensure that my garden would be as unobtrusive as possible. Of course most of my flowers died long before they could bloom. It was not as if there were very many, you understand. Never more than a handful at a time. I sought to keep them safe, but more often than not their lives were cut short without ever being able to help me. Fortunately there were always new spirits eager to take up the guise of a shinigami and equally disenchanted by the burdens such a position proved to entail. Ours is a supremely dangerous profession for those below the level of a regular captain, after all."

Unohana reached up dainty hands and brushed them down the front of her immaculate robe, the garment that marked her as the highest class of defender in their world.

"Not that this means anything to you, Byakuya Kuchiki."

The impression of danger then was enough to cause him to thrust Rukia behind his back and clasp his sword with both hands, preparing to lash out at Unohana with every last scrap of strength he possessed. Futile gestures notwithstanding.

In response, she cocked a curious look towards him.

"Why do you shield her from me? Do you not understand what I have just told you?"

Her voice held the tones of a governess distraught with a particularly willful child. The idea that she was looking down upon him provoked distaste towards this woman like he had never previously known.

"Unohana Retsu, as Captain of the Sixth squad, I am placing you under arrest for the crime of assaulting a fellow officer. Lay down your zanpakutō and surrender yourself. If you refuse, you will not live to regret it."

_Are you serious?_

You know better than to ask.

Apparently his enemy was not as surprised by this decision on his part. Which was odd, considering how shocked Byakuya truly was to have just made that declaration. Had it really come to this?

"You are a perplexing person, Lord Kuchiki," the ancient enchantress sighed, giving a slow shake of her head. "I cannot tell if it is sheer stubbornness or stupidity that allows you to behave in such a hypocritical fashion. Do you think you are blameless in regards to Soifon's current condition?"

"My actions are not on par with yours."

"That's for the courts to decide." There was undeniable smugness to her smile. "Shall we bring the matter before Central 46?"

"I have given you fair warning and…"

"Rukia-chan? Tell your brother who it was that attacked the Commander-General."

The girl shivered against his back. "I…"

"SILENCE!"

It didn't matter that yelling was indicative of a loss of control. Regardless of what it might cost him in terms of dignity, Byakuya Kuchiki would not suffer to hear any further slanders to his sister. Whatever magic this witch had used to twist Rukia to her ends, he was resolved to bear as little of her venom as he could possibly…

"No, Nii-sama."

Shock.

He felt certain it must be written all over his face as he turned to look down at her. Rukia gazed right back at him unflinchingly, though he did not fail to notice the tears gathering in her eyes.

"I am the one who stabbed Yamamoto," she said clearly. "No one forced me to do it. I wasn't acting under a spell. More like I was released from one. But even that had no bearing on the decision I chose to make when I put my sword through his back."

It sounded like she meant it. Even to his keen eye, there was no telltale trace of indecision or uncertainty to cast doubt on her veracity.

But all the same, it simply couldn't be. She had to be mistaken.

"Rukia," he managed to speak, though it sounded like a croak due to the lump rising in his throat. "You are not…"

"But she is."

Looking upon this heartbreaking scene, Unohana's face clearly held pity for the distraught lord of Seireitei.

"She is one of my seeds, Byakuya-taichou."

Ignoring this comment, Byakuya continued to stare into his sister's face, the one that even today tugged at his heart owing to its resemblance to that of the woman he had loved. There as surely as he drew breath was the same tenderness and beauty etched in the very curve of her eyes and sweep of her brow. There could be no malice, no treachery to be found in such a person. If there was, it could only have come from some outside source.

And that would mean that he had failed to protect her from it.

He had failed in his duty. Again.

How?

_How?_

"How…?" he spoke the question softly.

Rukia stood trembling before him. In her pale skin and shuddering breath was the very same picture of terror that Byakuya remembered from how he sometimes used to catch her looking at him. What on earth could have brought a return to that false state of fear in his precious little sister? She appeared ready to burst into tears at any moment.

Then the tiny noblewoman drew in a shaky breath, and said, "Because Aizen was right..."

* * *

The spell fell away from her, just like every time before. And right on cue, Rukia drew her blade and leveled it at where Aizen sat, her hands shaking and face white as bone.

It was mildly insulting how little she trusted him to this day.

Although…

"Play nice now, Rukia-chan!"

Perhaps she was not entirely without reason for doing so.

Gin leaned against the side of the room, his hair glowing faintly from moonlight spilling through a window. Immediately the girl spun about, and her fighting stance faltered. Ichimaru just grinned and gave her a friendly salute.

The terror that possessed their potential ally was always fresh. Perhaps it had to do with the little games his former lieutenant insisted on playing with her in their official capacities as captain and junior shinigami. These incidents probably took on a new and far more sinister light when viewed in the context of their hidden relationship with her. Gin protested that it was a part of his character, and to do anything less would be to arouse suspicions beyond the obvious ones he was meant to attract. After all, if he didn't frighten one timid little mouse of a girl, then who would ever believe him to be a true predator, he had argued?

It made sense in that respect. But in addition, the designs Aizen was weaving were multifaceted and required minute attention to detail. He had never really sought to dissuade his smiling cohort from teasing Rukia, because in some respects it served to engender a hatred of Soul Society's captain class in her. Genial folks like Ukitake and even himself were relatively hard to come by among the upper echelons, so there was little chance she would ever be comfortable around their type. Especially considering her attitude towards her brother. Still, a mild discomfort in regards to the white robe was nothing compared to the dread that men like Byakuya and Gin could instill within her, whether intentionally or no.

At times like this, it was good to have a devil at your beck and call.

The Third squad captain raised a finger and wagged it admonishingly when Rukia still did not relent. With this one gesture, he was telling her,_ 'I could just disarm you. We've seen it before, if you'll recall. So why not just submit and hear us out like every time before?'_

Their Rukia was a clever lass. She knew when she was severely outmatched, and apparently there was no need to demonstrate their superiority in terms of combat any further. Like so many times before, she cautiously lowered her lovely zanpakutō, never choosing to sheathe it. There was always the sense that she was waiting for one of them to give her an opening, no matter how small. And then her sword would be lodged in their throats.

It was good to know. In fact, that was precisely one of the reasons he had finally settled upon her as their trump card.

"Please be seated, Rukia-ojousama," Sōsuke spoke courteously. When she cast him a wary look, he spread his hands to show he meant her no harm. Clearly this did little to alleviate her discomfort, but she did as he bid, crossing her legs and laying the sword over her knees. This situation had happened often enough that apparently Rukia now accepted they would not kill her for outright refusing to cooperate with them. Instead she chose to drag it out, perhaps in the hopes of taking advantage of a momentary carelessness on their parts. If not to escape or warn someone, then at least to take that chance to inflict a little damage. She knew how to bide her time, and this too the head of their cabal appreciated for the benefits it could provide him.

They had chosen this night to contact her again for a number of reasons. Firstly, it was one of the rare times that their duties did not preclude the two captains from meeting. Tosen wasn't suited to oversee Rukia's training owing to their opposing temperaments, so he could not have replaced Gin. Not for this one. Secondly, thanks to her brother's meddling, she had been assigned to a detail overseeing the transfer of Thirteenth division archives to a new storage facility on their grounds. The duration of this assignment was proving to last for a period of several days. Safe, monotonous, tedious work. Easy to catch her unsuspecting in the hallways and spirit her away long enough for them to have a chat without anyone being the wiser.

And lastly, it was Aizen's belief that she finally be informed of her role in his plans.

Always before, he had been vague about his intentions regarding Rukia. It kept the wary waif even more on edge, which was exactly where he needed her to be. Rukia didn't respond to calm, persuasive reasoning quite as readily as some of their other minions. She was more of a visceral, instinctive person at the core, in spite of the shroud of rationality that the Kuchiki clan had wound her around with. Loosening her from the folds of that constricting attire was proving to be quite enjoyable in and of itself. But the time was ripe for her to understand the destiny that her God had chosen to bestow upon her.

Thus he brought her to a little-used wing of the building, under the guise of assisting him in locating a specific historical tome. For inter-division recordkeeping, he had explained. Only when Aizen was certain that no one would be disturbing them did he free her memories to allow them to speak. It was a very perilous line he must court with her tonight. All their work with Rukia could fall apart as a result of this evening's efforts. He wasn't expecting any miraculous fount of loyalty to erupt. But if they could just reach the right level of cautious uncertainty…

Well, then when the time came, she might actually surprise herself with how angry she really was.

First, to get things started, a little confession.

"I mean to kill the King of Soul Society."

Apparently this took her off guard, and she required some time to process that information before continuing. He gave it to her. They had it to spare this evening, after all.

"I have no intention of furthering any of your wishes."

"You say that now. But when the time comes, you will remember everything. And in that moment, I am sure you will reach the right decision."

"Are you insane?" she whispered, giving him a look that spoke volumes about her opinion on the topic. "Do you honestly think that you can convince me to be your tool for murdering people?"

Now to clarify. "Not murder, Ojousama. Have I ever asked you to kill anyone? Remember everything that came before this night. The training we have given you is geared solely towards incapacitating an opponent, not outright killing them. Do you admit to this much?"

No answer. But no news was good news in this case. Time to press on.

"If you want to talk about dirtying one's hands, there is certainly a lot of ground to cover. I would like to make a few points concerning why I believe a change in the ruling order of our world is necessary to combat the rot that is spreading through the collective soul." He laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them, never breaking eye contact with her for a moment. "Now, then. To illustrate this, are you aware of the manner in which my predecessor was removed from command of Squad Five?"

"No," she spoke accusingly, making it sound like her ignorance was entirely his fault.

"He intruded on an experiment of mine. During the course of these events, he and several others received damage to their souls that ostensibly ended their careers as shinigami. His removal from the post of captain was always a goal of mine, but owing to the unforeseen nature of his involvement as well as certain others, I was forced to exercise some creativity in terms of who received the blame for that night's fiasco. This other individual was tried and summarily convicted based on the strength of contrived evidence I brought against him. He managed to escape custody, however, and remains at large to this day."

Here Aizen paused, watching her expectantly. Apparently his skill as a storyteller, coupled with her natural curiosity, would not permit that to serve as the ending.

"Who was he?" she asked.

"A man you know, Rukia-ojousama. His name is Kisuke Urahara."

For a moment there was nothing. And then her amethyst eyes widened slightly in recognition. She sought to cover it, but there was no use making the attempt. Good to know that fellow's character remained sufficiently obnoxious as to render him unforgettable even if only known for a short time. He had all the proof he needed now. There may yet be more than one use for this girl after all. Adjusting his spectacles, he continued on the current course.

"This whole affair was a terrible calamity for Soul Society. It lost some of its best warriors and brightest minds as a result of that one night's doings. Since then, the corruption of our world's virtue accelerated exponentially. Reports of abuse and murder of lesser spirits by death gods increased three hundred-fold since then. Deterioration of living conditions in the Rukongai has proceeded at an abysmal rate, such that over sixty rings out of eighty are no longer considered safe places in which human souls can retire and find peace. The number of shinigami stationed in the world of the living decreases every year as well, while the rate of souls that fall into Hollow forms continues to grow as a result of our lessening presence."

"Things cannot proceed like this for much longer," he continued forcefully. "This spiritual cancer has spread to where a mere amputation of a single limb no longer even merits consideration. The body of Soul Society is in danger of dying completely, and before this can happen, we must introduce a radical new panacea designed to cure the malady at its core, not merely treat the symptoms. For this, I will commit regicide."

There was no mistaking it. She was looking at him like he was the King of Hell itself.

"You _are _insane." Rukia stated, clearly aghast. "You're using a crime _you_ committed as proof that our world is corrupt?"

"Ask yourself this, Ojousama…"

"Stop calling me that!" she yelled suddenly, livid with frustration.

Aizen continued as if nothing had happened. "If our society was more fair than false, would I have been able to arrange such an absolute travesty so effortlessly?"

The girl stopped with her mouth half open, torn between continuing to rage against him and thinking about what he said. It was almost delicious how nakedly her desires were playing out here. She wanted to get away, but the compulsion to remain and learn exactly what he could reveal to her was just as strong.

The ties that bind.

"Use whatever excuse you please," her tempter spoke calmly and easily. "I'll even help you. I lied to the officials and manufactured evidence. I took advantage of their preconceived notions regarding an unstable yet blameless individual. I deceived witnesses using a power that no other reasonable person could expect I possess."

Behind her, Ichimaru snickered into his sleeve, and they both saw her flinch. No doubt Rukia felt she was caught in a crossfire. This was not unintentional.

"I covered up murders and immoral activities that I witnessed and in some cases conducted. And on top of all that, I used these vicious acts to my benefit, securing prominent positions for myself and two of my colleagues. And as a result, we all stand here today."

His eyes stayed firmly affixed to her pale, anxious face, challenging her to try and add anything more to that list. But apparently Rukia had lost her voice, if not her fire, and so he continued.

"Do you think this makes us any different from the other captains?"

She was thinking about Byakuya now. It was clear as glass. Time to use that to his advantage.

"Do you know how the Second division traditionally chooses their captain? The potential candidates engage in assassinating one another 'til there is only one person left standing. Soifon killed twelve of her cohorts to gain her _hakama_, several of whom were related to her."

Talk of the murderous femme fatale who commanded the Onmitsukidō served to unnerve this young woman just as much as her brother. That initial encounter so long ago was still of such fertile use to them. Further proof that there was nothing that could not be turned to your advantage. Even being caught red-handed, as it were.

"Do I even have to mention Kenpachi? He kills his own men when they displease him. Or Captain Kyōraku. Are you aware that he single-handedly obliterated the power of the Shiba clan?"

That bit of intel was even more productive, judging by the way her eyes widened. Of course, he knew just how important that name was to Rukia. Aaroniero had proven most helpful in understanding her, at least following his encounter with the dead Metastacia. He had also expressed an interest in actually meeting Kaien Shiba's pupil one day. It was hard to tell if she would survive such an encounter, considering the _Séptima's _tendency to play with his food, so Sōsuke had made sure to discourage any such inclinations on the Hollow-Eater's part. No matter how intriguing such a spectacle may prove to be, they could not afford to waste valuable resources.

"That…"

Ah, we seem to be getting somewhere. Come on, now. Let it out.

"That is a _lie!"_

He cocked his head slightly. "Engage your family's resources, if you like. Take advantage of your title, Ojousama. Learn for yourself whether or not I speak the truth."

"Why should I bother?" her hoarse voice still managed to hold a great deal of anger. "Any evidence I find could be manufactured, the same way you just admitted to doing before. The word of a murderer has even less value to me than it does in the court syste…!"

It took only a second to see the trap her tongue had led her into. Still, that made him smile. She blushed angrily in response. After all, the judiciary of Soul Society had taken the word of this self-confessed killer over that of an innocent man, and then chosen to call it justice.

Brown eyes gleamed behind his glasses. "Or simply ask Shunsui himself. He wouldn't lie to a beautiful lady. It goes against his personal code. But then again, he's responsible for killing far more people than I am, so again, we run into that insurmountable aversion to murderers you harbor. Still, we have plenty of time to work on that."

She bolted upright, looking ready to actually try and fight past them to escape this scene. Cold radiated off of her in waves, and in the adopted aristocrat's face was a wealth of open contempt for the company she found herself in.

"_I will NOT listen to one more damn word out of your mouth! _I am sick to death of these evil games you both delight in playing! If you think telling me any of this will make me somehow like you, a creature of bankrupt morals and perverted brain, then I hope one of you has at least enough sense to draw your sword and kill me, because I will _NEVER_ permit myself to become such a disgrace!"

"Yeah, cuz if you did…"

Rukia tensed up as Ichimaru suddenly leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"…yer big brother would kill ya _slow,_ right, Rukia-chan?"

It was really quite remarkable how Gin unfailingly knew just where and how to strike in order to really damage a person's resolve. He had definitely never needed any tutoring on that score. His instincts towards inflicting pain were so lethal and well-honed to almost qualify as a physical weapon. The evidence of this came when all the self-righteous wrath and reckless passion their captive had been displaying drained away in an instant.

There was a smile of inhuman delight on the face of Aizen's cohort while he twisted the knife in her mind further. "If anybody were to, oh, I dunno, slip Kuchiki-taichou a lil' note how you been seen cavortin' with a traitor like Kisuke Urahara, even if just fer a day, I'm willin' to bet that would be yer _last_ day in Seireitei! Come the next morning, you'd be gone, Rukia-chan. Took a fatal tumble down some stairs, maybe drowned in a pool, or even just hanged yerself with a silk scarf. Y'know, quiet and classy. Just like Byakuya."

Judging by the way she trembled, it was possible she could already feel the silken noose tightening around her throat as her merciless sibling choked the life from her body. She looked like she might die on the spot from fear. Emotionally vulnerable.

Perfect.

"You've been living on borrowed time, Rukia-ojousama." Aizen murmured, taking up the reigns of her breakdown. "You and I both know that you can't maintain this charade of nobility forever. At least not to their standards. Sooner or later, the Kuchiki will claim whatever it is they want from you. And when that day comes, in their eyes your life will no longer be worth preserving. But if you believe that is the only threat against you, you are sorely mistaken."

She looked over at him. Those bright violet orbs were dull and empty, and there at last was the confusion and dread that haunted her every waking moment. It actually irritated him somewhat. The knowledge that this fabulous girl might have been killed before she could ever prove her worth.

His world would be different. That much he had promised himself.

"You are a living target, Rukia Kuchiki. Since you first accepted that name, you were welcomed all unknowing into the world of noble intrigue. And as far as the other titled families are concerned, you represented an opportunity. When Byakuya adopted you into his household, he flaunted the laws of the Seireitei. This was perceived as a flaw in the influence of the Kuchiki. And since that day you have been perceived as an opening to their downfall. There are many who resent the prestige and influence of your benefactors. Not just among the nobles. Even the ruling class, whether it be military or bureaucratic, are wary of any power that could challenge their own. That is why they did not oppose your inclusion into the Gotei 13 or the Kuchiki. Because you represented possibilities."

Aizen raised a single finger. She stared mesmerized at it.

"One slip, Ojousama. Step out of line for a moment, give them any excuse that is sufficient, and you will find your head on the chopping block."

His quarry looked more confused than anything else. At that moment Gin suddenly swooped in again and cupped his hands beneath her chin. She sucked in a quick breath and held it, eyes shutting resolutely and lips pressed tight to keep from screaming. It would appear that even now, alone and with every reason to cry out for someone to come rescue her, Rukia still didn't dare speak out against anything he did. It was quite remarkable how much influence Ichimaru held over her.

"The Onmitsukidō… they're keepin' their eye on you, Rukia-chan. If it looks as if yer Onii-chan is getting too big fer his britches, they'll use you to teach 'im a lesson. Nobody can touch Byakuya. He's above reproach, most o' the time. But you're a diff'rent story. Yamamoto don't wanna lose another captain. So if he feels that lil' Number Six deserves a spanking, guess who's gonna be his whipping boy? Or rather, whipping _girl!_ That's right, it'll be you, Rukia-chan! They'll chop your head off and send it to him wrapped up in a bow along with a note to keep his ambitions low."

"They'll use you, Rukia-chan," The kitsune bent low and crooned softly in her ear. "Use you to hammer him down."

When Gin drew back up, Sōsuke was surprised to see that the girl was crying.

"I don't believe you," she sobbed. "I don't believe _any of this! _What kind of monsters are you people?" Her eyes opened. Rukia looked right at Aizen. "It's not supposed to be like this," the frightened child wept openly. "We thought we were escaping from the devils. But this place is… it's _hell!"_

Ahhhh…

Now we're getting somewhere.

"Who is to blame for that, Rukia Kuchiki?"

She didn't answer.

He reached up and laid a hand to his breast. "Is it me? Am I the one who frightens you into silence every day? Is it my voice that commands innocent people be secretly swept off the street because of the peril they represent? You know how gangs work, don't you? They press all the people in their territory down, recruiting or killing the ones who might challenge their authority. Well, that's all that the Thirteen Imperial Guard Squads have been for two thousand years now. The biggest gang around. And who is it that heads that group?"

She didn't say a word.

"Answer the question," Ichimaru snapped, and she jerked upright.

"I don't… understand." It sounded like she was pleading with them to leave her alone. The most painfully shy girl in class, who dreaded whenever the teacher called upon her. Always before they had treated their little wallflower as delicately as if she were glass.

The time for such niceties was over.

"Who commands in the Court of Pure Souls?"

Rukia's head came around a little, like she was trying to find the answer amid the stacks of books and scrolls around them.

"The… Chamber of Central 46."

Aizen took off his spectacles and looked at her directly, frowning.

"Scholars and philosophers living in a hole in the ground. No one fears them. Most people don't even know who they are. They are just a legal barrier. Do the 46 ever go out into the city to prove their power?"

When she hesitated again, her silver-haired shadow moved a little closer, and Rukia gave a jolt, clutching her sword nervously. "No. They… they don't move."

So then," he spread his hands, "who is it that enforces the laws they pass down?"

A nervous lick of her lips. "We do."

"_Why_ do we do it?" This was a point the captain was determined to make. "What compels the shinigami to remain under the thumb of an ineffectual bunch of elderly paper-pushers, keeping them from mimicking the Rukongai by degenerating into a bunch of rival gangs?"

Desperation. "The… captains…"

"Potential kings and queens, every one of them. Why don't they strike out on their own and carve themselves kingdoms where they needn't answer to anybody else?"

"I'm… not sure…"

"Think, girl. I know you're not an idiot, _think!"_

She swallowed, clearly rattled. "Maybe… because…"

The pallid shinigami looked ready to pass out at any moment.

Then Gin came walking around her to stand behind his leader, and Rukia couldn't seem to take her eyes off him.

"Why're us two schemers slinking around like this, do ya think? Eh, Rukia-chan?"

He gazed at her right back, smiling viciously.

"Because…"

Those deep blue eyes narrowed. Her voice became quite grim.

"Because… Yamamoto would kill you if he ever found out!"

And Aizen smiled.

"Good. Yes, that's exactly right. So then," and he stood up, crossing over to loom above her, all friendly smiles and kindness, "Can you guess what I want from you, my dear Rukia-ojousama?"

She craned her head up at him with utmost wariness.

And then slowly, almost laughably so, realization dawned in her face.

"You expect _me… _to take down _Yamamoto_ for you?"

One manicured brown eyebrow rose. "Would you prefer we ask Renji to do it?"

The anger was back at that comment. Kuchiki actually laughed then, though there was a bitter edge to it. "Even if I did care to help you, it's completely mad. According to Captain Ukitake, the Commander-General could single-handedly destroy the entire force of shinigami active today, including all the other captains! What makes you think he can be defeated at all?"

"Because everybody's got a weakness, and shinigami ain't no exception," Ichimaru spoke up smoothly. "Even the strongest ones. Why do ya think we've been trainin' ya to locate and destroy a person's spiritual center?"

Rukia scoffed. "You're still mad. I couldn't even get close to him."

"No. That is why _we_ can't do it." Aizen shook his head, crouching down suddenly and placed a hand over her clenched fists. Her skin was cold, and her body shivered under his fingers. He kept his voice soft and soothing so as not to alarm her any further. "The Commander-General would never drop his guard around a captain, or even a lieutenant. He recognizes that his position at the top could attract as much envy as it does respect. And no matter how powerful a person is, there is no one who cannot be killed. So in somewhat blatant contradiction, the ones he places the most of his faith in are also the ones who are the greatest targets of his suspicion. Even the true power of Kyōka Suigetsu might not be enough to get me close enough to him. And if it did prove insufficient, then I would be without further recourse but to fight for my life against him and his soldiers. Not a very appealing prospect, as you can imagine."

"So instead you sacrifice me," she shot back in a flat voice full of reproach. "A nobody. A person who couldn't beat the meanest lieutenant, much less harm a captain."

"We've seen what you can do, you and I." Aizen held up a palm that bore the old scar left by Sode no Shirayuki. "So don't tell me you aren't strong enough."

The girl scowled, as if wishing she could have inflicted greater damage to him on that day years past. But she kept her tongue in check.

"Actually, we have calculated your chances as far greater than my own, for the simple reason that Yamamoto has no reason to fear you. Think about it," the conspirator spoke quickly when she seemed ready to object again. "You are not a captain, nor are you a lieutenant. As such he has probably never even heard of your existence, as he is not particularly interested in the affairs of nobles, much less adopted ones who came from nothing. Just another unseated, puny little shinigami under his command. A _girl_, even. Is there anyone _less _likely to pose a threat to the Old Man of the Mountain, the single most powerful warrior to ever grip a blade? Can't you see how perfect it is? He has no reason to believe you to be of any great threat, and so around you his defenses would be at their lowest as we could ever expect them to be. But we know better than to judge you merely by your official position, don't we, Ojousama?"

Her gaze grew thoughtful, like she was considering the merits of his arguments. Then Rukia lowered her head.

"You're forgetting something, Taichou."

He gave her wrist a playful squeeze. "And what is that, my Lady?"

In a flash her zanpakutō was pressed against his belly, its pale edge cutting through the snow-white fabric of his hakama.

"The same goes for you," Rukia whispered, eyes gleaming like chips of ice. "If I can pose a threat to him, then you are in danger as well. And I don't hate Yamamoto. Nowhere near the way I do _you_."

Aizen stared unflinchingly back at her. Inside, though, he was shouting with joy.

She had taken the final step.

Let's end on that note.

With that, he quickly recited the incantation that would send her back into blissful oblivion.

There was only an instant where her wrath and despair continued to stare out at him, and the ephemeral zanpakutō threatened to carve out his guts. Then Rukia's head slumped down, and she was fast asleep.

"Not gonna give her a little more of a push, then?" Gin asked, eternally playful and unconcerned.

"No," Aizen admonished him as he rose to his feet. "I believe this will be the last time we need to meet with her."

"I'm shocked," the slender sniper laced his hands behind his head and rocked back and forth carelessly. "Call me crazy, but I didn' hear her swear eternal allegiance or nothin' like that. Ya just gonna let this all pop up again when you like 'fore she's had a chance to make up her mind or nothin'?"

"Certainly. After all, we can't have her pondering too much. That would hardly be productive. What I wanted was for Rukia to be sufficiently angry and off-balance immediately after having heard all this. That way, once the Chamber or the other nobles do make their move against her, when I release her memories, the sudden recall that I warned her about that same thing happening, combined with the murderous fury she was feeling just now, will keep her from behaving in any way other than blind, anguished violence."

"Sounds complicated," Ichimaru yawned. "How can you be sure they'll actually pull some stunt like that, or that she'll even be able to survive it when they do?"

"Concerned about her now?" Sōsuke teased as he made his way past the grinning phantom. Before Gin could respond, he waved a negligent hand. "Like I said, she can't keep up the pretense forever. Eventually they'll seize the chance to lord it over our too-proud fellow captain. And when they do, you can rest assured that Byakuya will spare no expense to see to it that their venture fails and she remains safe."

They strolled down the halls, leaving the girl behind as per their usual treatment. After coming around, she would find some excuse for being in this section of the archives owing to the workings of her own subconscious, and there would be no trace of the two captains having been here.

"I just can't see Byakuya riskin' his family's honor over Lil' Rukia." The gregarious ghoul had not been sufficiently convinced, it would seem. "What if he just lets her get thrown to the wolves? Then what? All our hard work goes down the drain, and we're still left with a fire-breathing superman to contend with as a result."

Cleaning off his glasses on his robe, Aizen looked up through the unnecessary frames and examined the moonlight slanting through the eaves of this corridor.

"He won't fail us. Just you watch, my friend. Captain Kuchiki cares for that child far more than you might believe. I saw it in his face the night I brought her home. He looked ready to murder me just for holding her in my arms. It was a revelation, and also the reason why I initially thought we might use her against him. But our Rukia is meant for bigger and better things."

He replaced the reflective mask on his face, and once more the devious schemer was a gracious, warmhearted father figure. "But if that should not prove to be the case, and I am wrong about Byakuya… well, that just means we'll have to step up and save Rukia ourselves."

"You got everything planned out, don'tcha, Aizen-taichou?"

"As much as I can." Sōsuke smiled in satisfaction. "And that is quite a lot."

* * *

Byakuya listened to every word she said.

He listened, and couldn't bring himself to believe any of it.

Rukia's face was stiff and cold as she continued to relate what had been done to her.

"Aizen told me that one day I would lose my life because of my place as a Kuchiki. It might seem crazy to you, but I found myself believing him. Of course, that did nothing to convert me, because I had already resigned myself to the idea that _you _would kill me eventually, Nii-sama."

He drew breath to deny that slander, only to find himself choking on the words. She looked at him, and it was like her eyes were piercing the veil of his thoughts to see his true intentions in regard to her. The harsh reality of what he might have done to her shamed the proud nobleman as much as any mistake in his life.

But even as she appeared to be observing the very depths of his soul…

She smiled.

"Instead I found… I was wrong about you, Byakuya-niisama. You were not the threat I thought you to be. Although I couldn't begin to understand why you act the way you do, the entire time I was living in fear of your displeasure, it was nothing more than my own ignorance and suspicion eating away at me. You have no idea how much I loathed myself when I realized that you had protected and supported me as my brother all this time, and I never so much as thanked you for giving me that privilege. Not even after you saved my life, when it was made clear that you wanted me to have a place in your world. Aizen lied to me about you."

"Rukia." Byakuya reached out for her, and she caught hold of him. Still clutching the broken hilt of a sword, those delicate little fingers slipped over his own. They were soft and gentle, as much as the tearful smile she continued to direct towards her honored brother, and he forgot about anything else; the two captains that had been vanquished only seconds earlier, and even the menacing figure still standing at his back. All his attention was reserved for this single person.

She then bowed her head.

"Aizen lied…"

A different tone stole into her voice then.

When he heard it, the nobleman knew surprise.

"And that is why… _Yamamoto had to pay!"_

Rukia's hands were trembling, and it took him only a second to realize that it was wrath causing her to shake like this. She wouldn't look at him now, almost as if she couldn't bear to.

"Because the lie became the truth! Because I _would _have been killed, just like he said. And over _nothing!_ Some miserable power struggle between the government and our family, that's why I was almost _sacrificed _to a monster! You gave me a wonderful life, and they were going to take it away, just to prove to you they could! Soul Society is supposed to be a safe place for the dead to rest before returning to the living. But from Zaraki to the heart of Seireitei, it's just a long line of bullies threatening you and killing you if you talk back to them! I thought I could run away from that, only to find that I had unintentionally joined the biggest gang around! That wouldn't have been so awful, because ultimately I still had a home with you where I could escape from all the fighting and killing and just be at peace. But even that could be taken away from me in an instant if Yamamoto gave the command."

"That's why I stabbed him!" Rukia continued, her body shaking with undeniable viciousness. "Aizen profaned you to my face, and I let him do it. But then those wretched old monsters took his lies and made them real! And that… that decrepit blood-stained _dotard…!" _She cast a truly venomous look in the direction of the fallen Captain-Commander. "He went along with it! If he had just spoken out against my execution, there wouldn't have been anything the Central 46 could have done but acquiesce. Because Yamamoto's power was what gave their edicts strength! Without him to back them up and enforce their decisions, they would have been just another toothless legislature, as powerless as an old lady's sewing circle. But he just _stood there_ on that hill and gave the order that I be killed, without any remorse or hesitation! As if he had the right to execute me because I was one of his soldiers who had stepped out of line! I tried not to think about it afterwards, because I knew we would need him to fight Aizen and keep the world safe, but…"

Her head snapped up, revealing a visage twisted with grief and rage.

"But when I suddenly remembered everything they taught me, and Yamamoto was right there with his back turned, like I didn't matter anymore, I… I HATED HIM! He lied to me when he promised to let my friends go after my execution! He would have killed me back then, and after me… Renji, Ichigo, Sado… he would have KILLED THEM ALL! Just because they fought to rescue me… their deaths would have been on my head! And all because he was so OLD and PROUD and STRONG that he thought he could do whatever he pleased and… and NO ONE COULD STOP HIM! Except… except for ME!"

The lavender eyes quivered under the press of strong feelings. Rukia's husky voice had metamorphosed into a snarl.

"I was tortured and trained so that I would be able to debilitate any shinigami. Aizen assured me I had the power to do so, I only lacked a reason to ever actually do it. Then I found one, and nothing else mattered! Only putting an end to that ancient monster so that he could _never_ hurt me again! And…!"

Before she could finish that sentence, a weight of unbelievably dense reiatsu hit the building, causing the walls to ripple and distort momentarily before settling back into semi-permanence. This anomaly in the environment was over so fast it did not even cause them to lose their footing.

In the silence that followed, Unohana looked off to one side and smiled happily.

"He's here."

Byakuya noticed that at some point he had wrapped his arms around Rukia, perhaps in an attempt to ward her from the overwhelming presence that threatened to smother even him. She certainly didn't appear nearly as rattled as he felt by that gruesome aura which was like a pack of wolves encircling them. He was staring down into her wide, beautiful eyes, when her lips parted, and she mouthed one word.

Aizen.

He knew then their time was short. The Sixth division captain attempted to come to grips with his thoughts, which were infuriatingly scattered at this time. He considered picking Rukia up and simply running off with her, regardless of the witch and her cage, nor even the fearsome beast that was even now drawing ever closer to them. Maybe he could attack and defeat Unohana, then hold off the rest of her abominable cohorts until Squad Zero could come through and enter the fray. Or perhaps…

Rukia raised her hand and touched his cheek then, where she could feel his pulse racing angrily under her touch. Looking down, the young lord saw something that he could not fail to recognize.

Determination.

At that she leaned in close, speaking in the barest of whispers such that he had to strain to hear her.

"I am proud to be your sister."

Strangely, he felt his heart still at those words.

"You are a good man. And I will not have it be said that you welcomed a serpent into your household."

What are you saying? He wanted to ask, but his tongue failed him.

" 'Strike when the enemy is distracted'. That's one of the lessons Gin taught me."

Lifting her head slightly, she peered over his frozen shoulder. Behind him, Unohana remained enraptured by the feel of her ally's approach.

Her fingers tightened on her zanpakutō.

"They turned me into a weapon, but no one has their hand around my heart anymore. I intend to keep it that way."

Understanding came swiftly…

"San no Mai: Shirafune!"

… but all too late.

The last word was hers as well.

"Goodbye."

He had no idea she could move so fast.

His sister was gone before he could even think to stop her. In less time than it took to blink, she had crossed the space separating her and Unohana Retsu. There wasn't even a chance for Byakuya to cry out, much less for the sorceress to turn her head, before Rukia raised Sode no Shirayuki and drove the icy blade towards her opponent's _saketsu_.

And then they were swimming in a wash of power.

It was like standing on the edge of a lake, your feet in the water, only to suddenly find yourself submerged up to your eyes in an ocean. Have I ever felt anything like this, Byakuya asked himself? Yes, perhaps I have. Aizen atop Sokyōku Hill. Yamamoto whenever he was engaged in fighting. No other time. Nothing… absolutely _nothing _else even came close to what he was experiencing right now.

The feel of a soul so powerful it no longer qualified as such, and you might as well call it God.

While he was thinking this, the source of that divine energy turned her head and looked down at her would-be assassin.

The girl couldn't even move. She just stood there, muscles locked up, immobilized by the raw unfettered power pouring out of the figure standing not three inches away. The sharpened icicle that Rukia had attempted to stab Retsu with had dissipated into snowflakes under the force of the captain's unleashed spirit. Now only a broken haft was shuddering before her breast.

And then even that sank towards the ground, as surely as if it had been struck by Izuru Kira's Wabisuke.

As the stump of a sword fell, it grazed the braid of luxurious black hair that started below the woman's chin. Sode no Shirayuki's edge scored a cut down the white band that bound those locks together, before clattering harmlessly to the floor. A few seconds later, the hair-tie fell with it.

Byakuya finally turned to see Unohana staring with frightfully cold eyes at her immobile attacker. The look on her face made him dearly wish that he could do something more. But all the impetus to move was not having any affect on his lethargic limbs. Instead there was only a low buzzing in his ears, as if he could actually hear her soul spilling out.

_By all that's holy… Is THIS… what she was capable of the whole time?_

Then the magnificent matron took one of Rukia's hands in her own. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed the pale palm tenderly.

"You are quite the hero, my dear," Retsu murmured.

"I couldn't agree more."

Both of them looked in the direction of that voice. Standing at one of the doors leading into the chamber was Aizen Sōsuke, magnificent in an assemblage of pure white. Behind him came Kaname Tosen. The prodigal captains faced the other members of Soul Society's elite.

The King of Hueco Mundo gazed upon Unohana.

And he bowed to her, so low his head was on a level with his knees.

"My Lady."

Byakuya noticed that behind Sōsuke, Tosen wore an expression of shock similar to the one that he had been sporting only minutes past. If I am not mistaken, I believe that I was not the only one to be uninformed about that harlot's treachery.

In response, the traitoress smiled fondly at the pair.

"Lord Takuiyoku," she acknowledged in return.

WHAT?

The Lord of the Kuchiki felt like a dagger had been shoved into his spine.

That… NAME…

It couldn't _be!_

The head of Division Four glanced over to where her normally imperturbable colleague was now ogling them like a newborn child.

"Yes, Captain Kuchiki. You heard me correctly. Perhaps it is time we all took our seats and spoke as courteously as we may."

Unohana let go of Rukia's hand then. The limp appendage dropped down seemingly without any volition, snagging in the woman's smooth black rope of hair. Under that deadweight, the strands unwound slightly, pulling down to reveal the open collar of her robe.

He heard his sister give a startled gasp. At the same time, the feel of her soul, which had been flickering on the brink of dispersal, was laced with something that he was quick to recognize. After all, there had been a long time when this selfsame emotion was the only thing she ever expressed in his presence.

It was fear.

Retsu looked down at the frightened child curiously. Then she seemed to understand.

"Ah. Of course. I forgot about that."

When Byakuya trained his dark gray eyes upon that menacing female again, at first he could detect nothing that could explain what would cause such a reaction on Rukia's part. But as he continued to observe her, something peculiar struck him.

Above the crossover of her robes, visible now that her braid was parted, he could see some of the witch's iridescent skin. And there, startlingly out of place on that fair expanse of flesh, was what looked to be…

A tattoo of a crescent moon.

The tips of the horns curved up to either side, making it appear as if there was a small black smile on her breast. What could it possibly symbolize, this bizarre piece of body art so similar to Renji's?

_Byakuya…that is no tattoo._

What? If not, then…

He looked again. And he realized Senbonzakura was right.

It wasn't a tattoo. Nor was it anything else on her body.

Rather, it was _in _her body.

A hole.

A hole in her chest, only partially opened, standing out like an eye that was almost completely shut.

As he realized this, Rukia suddenly collapsed to the floor.

Unohana pulled the opening of her dress closed to hide that horrific mark. Kneeling down, she touched the girl's forehead gently. Byakuya made to spring forward, only to find his way blocked by Aizen, who had drawn Kyōka Suigetsu. A mocking smile lit the other man's face, as if daring the haughty noble to make a move, and risk having his senses turned against him.

Before anything could come from this confrontation, Retsu came back with her diagnosis.

"No need for alarm. She's simply fainted from spiritual exhaustion. She'll recover in time."

A wave of her hand, and the force that had previously inundated the chamber tamped down, focusing beyond simply spilling out like the energy of a miniature sun. Under Retsu's conscious impulse, they could feel the reishi in the surrounding area altering. Of a sudden, the solid floor beneath Rukia was transformed. An instant later found the unconscious girl lying on a pile of glossy black pillows.

Several other mounds of cushions sprang up in the space around them. Leaning back and settling luxuriously into one such heap, the goddess gave a contented sigh. She then looked to the men standing in the room.

"Well. It would seem I have some explaining to do."

* * *

As Ichigo sagged in the gleaming gemstone bonds that held him, staring incredulously into the smiling face of his betrayer, he heard someone cry out.

"What's going on?"

There wasn't even enough energy left to turn his head. But in a few moments that proved unnecessary, as dozens of shinigami that had previously been loitering below in preparation of the final battle sprang up to surround the both of them.

"Yumichika-san?" one of the death gods gasped, her eyes bugging out at the sight of a zanpakutō whose true form none of them had ever witnessed.

"SIR! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MASTER KUROSAKI?" a member of Ayasegawa's own division then bellowed.

He didn't even look at them, only gave a tug on the parasitic bands that surrounded Kurosaki. On the vines, fat buds began to take form.

_Ichigo, my strength is… draining…_

"Stay back, all of you," Yumichika proclaimed loudly. "This boy is a traitor to Soul Society. I'm subduing him so that he can offer us no harm."

The circle of black-clad fighters all wore the same look of dumbfounded incredulity.

Ichigo, however, was livid with rage.

"He's… LYING!" the helpless youth gasped. "I didn't do anything!"

Now there was muttering and some looks being thrown askance. Eventually a large fellow who belonged to the Eleventh judging by his hairstyle stepped forth, hand on his zanpakutō's hilt.

"Ayasegawa-san…sir," the big man grunted. "The hell are you talking about?"

There was a wealth of lethal accusation in the look Yumichika turned on him, and despite being over a foot taller and several hand-widths broader, his cohort slunk back a step, sweating heroically.

"I didn't… sir, I'm not saying I don't… believe you, or nothin', but… I don't know what's going on…"

The Fifth seat continued to glare reproachfully at the offending party. When Kurosaki attempted to speak once more, Yumichika gave a twist of his vampiric sword, and the energy consumption seemed to accelerate, denying any hope he might have had of speaking in his defense.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. Commander Yamamoto specifically charged me with this task. He told me that if there was any sign that the Kurosaki boy might prove to be a liability to our side, I was to step up. And that's precisely what I have done."

A luminous aura began to shine from within several of the pods that adorned his released soul cutter, and some of them started to slowly unfurl. Strangely, it looked to Ichigo as if the other death gods were as much leery of that blade as they were him.

"Sir, your sword…" a big, healthy-looking woman spoke up. "What happened to it?"

Yumichika looked down at the throbbing hilt in his hand.

He closed his eyes, and his jaw clenched into a horrific parody of a smile.

"This is a special energy-sapping weapon that the Kidō Corps gave to me under the Commander-General's order. It was created to trap our little friend here. Nothing more."

Ichigo stared disbelievingly. He's lying! C'mon, just look at him, he's so obviously lying! There's no way you can all be believing this, right?

But when his eyes flickered around the area, while many still looked confused, it was also clear that they were not going to do anything to stop it.

You have got to be KIDDING ME!

…_ich…go…what…happen…t…me…?_

Zangetsu! Hold on!

Ichigo looked up at the leering pervert holding him down.

"You… nasty little CREEP…!"

Another pull of the spectral cat-o-nine-tails, and he was now hanging several yards off the ground, like a pig trussed up for slaughter.

"Watch your mouth, brat," his captor grinned cheekily, coming forward to begin plucking the milky-white blossoms from their stems. "You're in no position to insult me, now less than ever. After all, _I'm_ not the traitor here. You are. None of your accomplices can come to help you now. Face it," and his eyes glowed with an eerie eldritch light, "You've _lost."_

_I… I'm not…_

The feeling of his inner ally disappeared like smoke, leaving the substitute shinigami hanging there, pitifully weak and completely alone.

Alone?

No. I'm…

And with the last of his strength, he raised a trembling hand before his face.

…**NOT!**

The Hollow's mask came down.

An instant later, every other soul in the area was flung away by his personal demon's unrestrained power, save for Yumichika. The delicate-featured death god stumbled back a few paces, raising his arms to shield his face as a backlash of sickening reiatsu came rolling off his seemingly immobilized prey. Ruri'iro Kujaku's bands started to wither, unable to adapt to the sudden change from shinigami to Hollow energy that had been nourishing them. In its master's viridian orbs, there was the most profound shock one could ever witness, and his mouth hung slack.

**I'm gonna rip that girly mug of yours off and wipe my ASS WITH IT! You're DEA…!**

It reached out to make good on this threat.

And froze.

**WHA…?**

The mask began to splinter and crack.

**Ichigo! What are you DOING?**

It's… IT'S NOT ME, DAMMIT!

He could feel something different than the usual loss of control. This was completely unlike all the times he had fought with his Hollow before. Now it was as if something alien was intruding on their territory, interfering with their bond. When Ichigo reached for his murderous accomplice's strength, he couldn't seem to find it.

His bone helmet began to slide off. Desperately the Vaizard reached up to grip the mask, trying to keep it in place while he figured out what was happening.

When he did, Ichigo saw something that left him quite bewildered.

There was a glowing red mark on his palm. This close, he had no trouble making out what it was. He had seen it often enough these last few months that it couldn't help but be familiar to him.

A stylized skull with an 'X' through it.

This burning crimson mark was the exact same image traced on his official substitute shinigami badge, the one he had received from Ukitake before departing Soul Society.

With this realization came an impotent cry of rage from the center of Ichigo's being. Red bands crisscrossed over his helm, and the white armor shattered. As this happened, there was a brief glimpse of his inverted inner world, and the Hollow howling from within a cage of twisting scarlet energy.

Then once more he was hanging limp as a rag doll in the grip of the parasitic prison.

Yumichika seemed to have recovered from his surprise, and was now casting a wary look towards the red-headed teen.

"Well," he mumbled. "That was quite an ugly little surprise you were hiding." As he spoke, the officer took note of how some of the scattered shinigami were regaining their senses and drawing closer once more. "There, you see? What did I tell you! The boy's one of them! He's a spy for the Hollows!"

This time there wasn't a single flicker of doubt in their eyes.

"You little traitor!" someone shouted at Ichigo accusingly.

"And to think Captain Zaraki trusted you!"

"Let us kill him, Yumichika-san!"

"Don't be stupid. Are you forgetting why we're all here?" Their immediate superior gave a flip of his sword-hand. As he did, the hilt of his zanpakutō vanished, and the hungry green tendrils suddenly sprouted out from between his shoulder blades, still holding Kurosaki like a bug caught in a Venus fly-trap. With his hands free, Yumichika now indicated off to the brooding mantle of thunderheads flowing from the horizon. "He's no longer a threat, but those Hollows out there certainly are. This war is far from over."

As if to confirm this, from behind the walls of the Seireitei, there came an outflowing of power that momentarily took the breath away of everyone in that vicinity. For a time they all stared at one another, uncertain as to the exact provenance of this event but finding themselves more hopeful than they had been only moments past. There was just something reassuring about that aura. Like it spelled victory for their side even in this, their darkest hour.

A second stream of black clouds then rolled overhead, moving to oppose the Hollow's storm. Upon catching sight of this, the shinigami let loose a rousing cry, shaking their soul cutters gleefully, unquestioningly afire with the prospect of their inevitable victory. They shouted and bayed, taunting the unseen enemies and demanding they come forward to do battle.

In the midst of this exuberant show of adrenaline, Ayasegawa glanced up at Ichigo and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I do believe that we've just received a summons, Kurosaki-bozu. Let's be off." He then turned and began to make his way through the rabid throngs of warmongers. None of them seemed to take notice of him or his prisoner, so high were their spirits now. The unlikely duo proceeded apace towards the nearest gate back into the Court of Pure Souls.

"After all," the martial-arts master drawled, "We wouldn't want to keep dear Rukia-chan in suspense."

* * *

"Take them both out of here," Unohana commanded softly. "Be careful. They are very fragile right now."

Kaname cocked what might have appeared to be a questioning glance in the direction of his avowed leader.

"Aizen-sama?"

Standing behind Unohana, the gentle-eyed lord gave a nod without removing his attention from a deadly quiet Byakuya.

"Do as the Lady says, Tosen."

"Yes, Aizen-sama."

He then did as ordered, bending down to pick up Yamamoto's frame, which was now far less robust and more spindly than it had been only minutes past. Hoisting the old man over his shoulder, with Soifon draped over the other, he was just starting to move, when Sōsuke called out.

"And Tosen?"

The blind spirit paused. "Yes?"

"My name is Sōsuke Takuiyoku. Try to get in the habit of referring to me by it."

"Yes… Takuiyoku-sama."

At the clear effort this alteration in speech required, his master burst out laughing. "Ah, my old friend, don't look so flustered! I'll explain everything to you later. For the time being, I suppose 'Aizen' is still a fitting sobriquet, at least until I've supplanted my ancestor. Don't distract yourself with the details 'til then." He gave a princely wave of his hand. "You may go now."

Tosen obeyed. Resting comfortably on her conjured comforts, Unohana watched him depart, then quirked an eye up at Aizen. "Sōsuke, before I forget, where exactly is Ichimaru?"

He responded with a mere lift of his shoulders. "If I only knew. Gin went to retrieve the Key from whomever Yamamoto decided to send in after it, but as you clearly observed, he failed to do so." The slender superman cast an apologetic look down at his companion. "My apologies, Retsu. Things did not go quite according to plan."

She nodded serenely. "I understand. Considering everything that has gone right, we cannot begrudge the Fates to place some obstacles in our path in order to prove our worth. I am more troubled by the disappearance of one of our best fighters than I am for my own sake. Just what do you suppose could have happened to him?"

"Even if he was forced to fight the Commander-General upon emerging, considering his ban-kai, I find it hard to believe that Gin would have died without there being any evidence of a struggle. And no one was missing from the shinigami camp who could have conceivably caused him difficulty."

"Your servant is dead."

Both turned as one to regard Byakuya. The lord-captain returned their stares, Senbonzakura still in hand.

"If you are curious as to who achieved that honor, I believe you need look no farther than the young woman you yourself transformed into an assassin."

Now each of them looked down at his sleeping sister lying insensate between them.

"I think you are engaged in a bout of wishful thinking, Kuchiki-taichou," Aizen addressed him condescendingly.

"Rukia-chan." Unohana dropped down beside her. "Did you _really_ kill that poor boy?" She sighed and touched the girl's hair sadly. "I cannot believe he would have taken things so far between you where you would have felt justified in doing that."

She was not the only one having difficulty with accepting the situation.

Byakuya watched all this, trying to discern some sense to any of it. Was this just another one of Aizen's hypnosis games? Could that actually _be_ Ichimaru or someone else sitting there in Unohana's place? It certainly seemed more likely than the idea that the comely chirurgeon could participate in such a debacle. She had no reason to betray Soul Society.

But perhaps… she did. It would certainly explain a great deal.

He had not forgotten what Rukia's last desperate act had revealed. It was simply one thing too many that he felt capable of dealing with right now. And Retsu certainly wasn't acting any differently than how he knew her, so Byakuya forced himself not to think too deeply about that disturbing revelation, whatever it may prove to be.

If Unohana unnerved him for behaving exactly as she had before seemingly switching sides, then Aizen bothered him for acting like someone completely different. This new figure was definitely not the same as the cold-hearted schemer that had momentarily revealed himself after Rukia's thwarted execution. He behaved somehow more… lively. As if _both_ of his prior selves were just a front. The man was practically ebullient. Not just at the prospect of having defeated Yamamoto, but rather like he had reclaimed something vital to his own character.

Above their heads the King's Door was still slowly opening. Byakuya remained standing at the center of the flourishing portal chamber. He would not sit in their company, nor permit himself to relax even a fraction. In fact, there was only one thing preventing him from calling forth his bankai and seeing to all these traitors' executions.

Rukia.

There had been no overt threat made to her life, but her brother was not ignorant enough to need such a possibility spelled out for him. So he permitted her to rest peacefully for now. Apparently Aizen was of a similar mind, for he did nothing to disturb her. All the same, the black-haired aristocrat did not fail to notice the look that vile brute directed her way. Like she was a prize for whichever man came out on top.

I can kill him. Here and now, I will…

_No. Take no action against them until we can determine where things stand at this time. _

We know enough. They are both traitors.

_Yes. But we don't even know which of them is the greater threat. Who is truly in control here, Aizen or Unohana? Once we learn that, we can respond accordingly. _

They must both die.

_You are at a disadvantage. To act impetuously here might put Rukia's safety at risk._

What shall I do, then?

_We must wait. _

"Tea, my Lord Kuchiki?"

The remark broke his concentration thoroughly. He looked back to the ancient woman, who had returned to her seat and was offering him freshly-brewed black tea in porcelain cups. The tea leaves had come from a packet in her robes, but the vessels she had seemingly conjured up from the surrounding environment, in another feat of legerdemain that caused him to rethink any prior misconceptions he might have had in regards to her limits as a sorceress. This mastery of spirit particles was indicative of control that far exceeded anything he could hope to accomplish. While it was true that under his family's efforts, an entirely new dimension had been constructed to house the refugees of Earth and the Rukongai, that had only been possible with a huge force of mages. And the raw materials for the environment and buildings in that plane had been constructed from previously available resources in Soul Society. Wood was sawed, stone was smoothed, grass was transplanted. Those myriad locales had been brought about through extraordinary effort, not simply a wave of one's hand.

He stared at the pair of beings before him.

Just what kind of monsters am I forced to contend with?

Byakuya crossed his arms. "Answer me one question."

Retsu blinked. "Of course."

"Why have you not killed any of us?"

The spell-mistress watched him for a few moments. When he made no further comment, she retracted the teacup and took a sip of the steaming beverage, never taking her wintery eyes off the nobleman across from her.

"It was never my way to treat death haphazardly. That sort of lifestyle was forced upon me. I am finished with such nonsense."

"You don't sound particularly grateful to not have suffered the same fate as your colleagues, Lord Kuchiki," Sōsuke suddenly remarked. "Have you not realized that captain-class fighters are in short supply at this point in time? The only person of our caliber who still qualifies for that title would be the Kenpachi. All the rest should have been stripped of their resources by now, just like Yamamoto."

When Kuchiki directed a tight-lipped glare in his direction, the cocky contender for Soul Society's throne disregarded the effort completely. "What? You didn't expect Rukia to be the only worthwhile soul I had wooed to my cause, did you? Nearly half the remaining lieutenants owe their allegiance to me. You might have missed the feel of their handiwork this day, but I assure you I did not." He bent down to pick up another cup of tea. Raising it to his lips, Aizen paused, as if considering something. "Though I must admit, I found myself mildly surprised to encounter you here. Did Renji fall so easily to your blade?"

"I am under no compulsion to alleviate you of any ignorance concerning your malfeasance," the other man shot back. "Recognize only that at least one of your puppets failed to complete their duty. And it would not surprise me to learn that he was not the only one."

"Don't get your hopes up, Byakuya-san. Kurotsuchi, Komamura, Ukitake and Kyōraku- they have all been nullified by this point. Hitsugaya will follow them shortly, I believe Momo is taking the time to explain things before she permits him to retire. You have no worthwhile allies left."

One name had been left out. But before he could even hope that this reflected carelessness on the part of the enemy, Unohana spoke up. "I believe Kurosaki-kun can be added to the tally as well. His reiatsu faded even before I broke the spell."

"The _ryoka_ boy?" This time Aizen seemed truly surprised. "I was under the impression that he was killed in Hueco Mundo."

"Not at all," his ally replied. "I restored his strength myself on the way back to the mortal realm. He was quite alive when last I checked, though obviously something took place since then." She gave a secretive smile. "And no doubt our good captain can guess what that something might be. Am I correct, Byakuya-kun?"

A feeling of bitter realization fell upon him, causing the valiant soul to almost curse in regret of his folly.

He had forgotten about that.

"Retsu," Aizen looked between them with interest, "Just what am I not seeing here?"

She offered him a fond look in return. "Oh, simply that Lord Kuchiki is no doubt feeling quite foolish right now. I expect he is berating himself for having taken measures to incapacitate a comrade who was completely blameless, while allowing one such as myself to roam free without any sort of safeguard."

At another flick of her wrist, a graceful shamisen rose up from the floor like a flower in bloom. Unohana grasped the instrument she had crafted by the neck and gave a brief strum of the strings with the wooden pick. The melody it produced was perfect, requiring no additional tuning on her part. She then began to pluck out a slow, stately paean that lent an additional air of incongruous civility to their discourse.

"You might remember, my dearest Sōsuke, that young Ichigo fought and defeated Captain Kuchiki prior to your retreat into Hueco Mundo. An impressive feat, to be sure. However, as we learned afterwards, it was not entirely based on that boy's merits alone."

After pausing to take a peaceful sip of tea, Unohana continued in her musical revelation. "Byakuya was quick to reveal to all the other captains after he recovered that our orange-headed loose cannon was not just a shinigami, but also a Vaizard, possessed by a truly terrible inner Hollow. He petitioned that precautions be taken to deter the release of that beast within Soul Society."

"Of course, Yamamoto consented to it without a word of protest. He has no love for those who 'straddle the fence', as he liked to put it. You are either one thing or another in his book. To refuse to conform to his ideals is to merit one's destruction. Plus even before your intentions regarding the King were revealed, it was the Old Man's decision that any major military activities would be carried on outside the bounds of our world. Therefore a restriction placed on Ichigo solely within this dimension would not hinder his usefulness in battle. And so it was that a certain talisman was crafted and given to the boy."

She swept out a particularly forlorn chord in the air, and clucked her tongue dismally. "Genryusai was so very crafty. He recognized that Ukitake had earned the _ryoka's _trust by helping to rescue Rukia and destroy the Sokyōku. And so he ordered that it should be his precious pupil who actually gifted the lad with our devious present. Being the wide-eyed guileless soul that he is, poor Ichigo never bothered to question when Jūshirō presented him with what he claimed was a badge to identify him as a substitute shinigami." The storyteller scoffed heartily. "Of all the ridiculous notions. As if Soul Society had ever responded to a mortal being granted death god powers in any other way than killing them! But that was the lie he was told, and no one who knew better was permitted to say otherwise. So our sweet young savior proudly accepted his prize, went back home, and proceeded to use it to transform into a shinigami whenever needed, as he had been instructed."

"There were certain secondary features built in, like being invisible to humans and serving to warn him when a Hollow might appear. But the true nature of that badge was to leave a dormant binding spell on his soul whenever Ichigo made use of it, such that if he ever sought to release his inner Hollow while within the bounds of Soul Society again, the spell would activate and lock the creature firmly within him, preventing it from coming out. Byakuya probably believed at the time that Kurosaki was as great a threat to the established order as you yourself were, and that it was right of him to take such preventative measures. Ukitake loathed himself for his part in the deception, but it wasn't the first time his beloved father-figure asked him to drag his decency through the muck, so he went along with it. And so…"

She raised her head towards Byakuya, and a quick vibrant series of notes repeated from the shamisen. "I was saved the trouble of hindering that adorable child myself! I even restored his energy completely following his battles in Hueco Mundo, knowing that it wouldn't make any real difference once the fight moved back to our home. It couldn't have worked out any better had I planned it. But I didn't." And she leveled an accusing stare at the angry aristocrat. "_You _did."

Byakuya was finding himself deeply regretting the deception that he had taken part in. The person who might have been their trump card had now apparently been brought low, not by any trick of the enemy, but by the spiteful, untrusting machinations of himself and his perceived comrades.

It made his blood burn. Unconsciously his fingers tightened around his bared sword.

_Stop! That will accomplish nothing! She is simply gloating. Let her grow more confident. It is the greatest weakness of such reprobates. _

She insults me.

_Your pride is stronger than her malice. She is not the admirable person you remember, her words carry no value now. Show her the fortitude of the ally she has chosen to forsake in order to win the favor of that wretch behind her. Unohana will soon learn which of you is the better man, to her sorrow. Have patience._

Yes. It will be as you say.

As he pondered the massive blow they had dealt their own forces, the villainess finished her performance and proceeded to pour herself another cup of tea. While doing so, she said without looking up from her efforts, "Byakuya-san, I would understand if you are somewhat troubled by this revelation. Are you sure you won't have some tea to calm you?"

When he again gave no reply, she reclined back and watched him closely. "No reason to fear. Unlike the liquor I left by your bedside while you were recuperating, there is nothing perilous about this drink."

"I will accept nothing from you," Byakuya responded flatly, ignoring the reference. He took satisfaction in not having risen to any of her baits. "Not drink, nor any pleas for mercy. Remember that."

The barest flicker of annoyance crossed Aizen's face at his implacable defiance. That was even more gratifying. Unohana, however, simply nodded as if in acceptance.

"Unlike your grandfather."

And she took another sip.

_What?_

Lord Kuchiki gazed at her with a face that betrayed none of his thoughts.

"Woman…"

She glanced up at him.

"Explain… that comment."

His voice was like winter's chill. It had no more effect on her pleasant disposition than anything else that had happened.

"I have been drugging Ginrei Kuchiki for decades. The deterioration in his mind and spirit is entirely the result of a curse I placed upon him, similar to the kidō-drinks I used to keep my seeds unaware of themselves or one another."

There might have been a question in his face, for she responded as if he had asked one. "He found out, you see. The former captain of Squad Six had a great sense for the flow of things, as you are no doubt aware. He learned of Sōsuke's relationship with the Hollows, though it cost him his daughter-in-law's life to gain that information."

_WHAT?_

She looked rather sad as she continued to relate this tale. "I admit to being careless. Your mother infiltrated Hueco Mundo, and observed Sōsuke in a compromising position. Though he was in disguise, she recognized him. There was nothing I could do to prevent what came next. One of the _Espada _from that period noticed her, and proceeded to track and slay the poor girl. I had never revealed myself to them, so I could not intervene without causing suspicion on both sides that I could not afford. Fortunately, I had known Ginrei suspected foul play for some time, and so when he finally received evidence that would have inevitably led back to me, I was ready to subdue him. Since then, my power has bound him from speaking what he knew and effectively debilitated him, to prevent any thoughts of striking out on his own and winding up dead as well. His will was so great, it had to be my strongest enchantment. Please understand, it was the safest, most humane means of keeping him from harm. Your family had already lost enough. I was only trying to prevent further deaths."

Retsu gazed at him steadily. There in her face was that same honest, nurturing compassion that so many shinigami had been all too glad to see in the past. This time, however, it held a decidedly sinister aspect.

Something finally dawned upon Byakuya.

"Tiamat," he whispered.

"I beg your pardon?"

His hands were trembling, clenched into fists.

"He spoke of you," the furious lord growled. "All of you. The _vasto lorde, _Aizen… even you. I didn't understand what he was trying to tell me. But I see now… when he spoke of Tiamat… he was trying to warn me about _YOU!"_

"Tiamat?" she repeated, rubbing a finger absently against her chest. Then a slow smile crept over her features. "Why, that sly old man! He was even stronger than I gave him credit for. The spell prevented him from speaking out concerning me and my plans, but he actually managed to find a way around it!"

The awesome goddess threw back her head and let loose a peal of silvery laughter.

"Oh, that is rich! Tiamat! The ancient mother-goddess, who turned upon her divine children and sought to raise a false king over them! How absolutely marvelous his mind is, to have made that connection, to come up with a solution in the face of what I did to him! I am completely in awe of his cleverness!"

Her mirth died away, and she cocked her head coquettishly back at the irate young man.

"He must have been so devastated when you failed to take his hint. I can't say I blame him. In all honesty, I find myself somewhat disappointed that his superb effort was completely wasted. If only you had been as intelligent as he, Byakuya-kun. But apparently my efforts to incapacitate you after your fight with Ichigo were not as necessary as I had thought."

She once more proffered the teacup to him then.

"I offer a toast: to Ginrei Kuchiki! Perhaps not the strongest captain of Squad Six, but certainly the cleverest."

Ginrei's heir made no more move to accept this invitation than he had the first.

_Byakuya._

He was resolved not to take offense.

_Forget patience. KILL HER!_

No argument. In an instant he had flash-stepped straight for the witch's throat swift as only he could be, a raging Senbonzakura flowing into flashing steel shards around him.

The Kuchiki prince had thought himself prepared for anything. But what came next disabused him of that notion. For just as Unohana had revealed her true strength mere moments past…

Aizen's soul came loose.

The next thing he knew, the strongest scion of their world's preeminent clan found himself on his knees, palms pressed to the stone, panting and trembling like a neophyte.

It was like a great steel bar was repeatedly hammering into his body, methodically crushing him blow by blow. The feel of this anima was not quite a Hollow's, not quite a shinigami; rather a perfect blend of the two, without the chaotically antithetical aspect that existed in both Kurosaki and now Abarai. This, then, must be the result of a shinigami captain achieving Hollowfication with the aid of the hōgyoku. There was absolutely no comparison. The force that was threatening to crush the life out of him was just as stable and resolute as any natural spirit energy Byakuya had ever known. To say nothing of supremely powerful. No chance to move or respond to the assault could even be contemplated. Further options did not exist, save to allow yourself to be squashed pitilessly by that unnatural reiatsu.

Gasping for breath in a room that was suddenly thick with raw burning power and a scent redolent of cinnamon and smoke, Byakuya tried desperately to keep from retching all over the floor. There had never truly in his life been a time when he felt himself completely outmatched, without any hope of eventually coming out on top in a fight.

Except for now.

Here at last was an enemy he couldn't possibly dream of overcoming.

Renji would probably laugh to find him in this state.

It was Aizen who courteously reached down and took the smooth china cup intended for Byakuya. The nemesis of Soul Society appeared untroubled by the tale he had just heard or the preempted attack, and took a sip reflectively. He closed his eyes as he did, like there was nothing in this room or beyond that could ever pose a threat to him.

"Ahhh," he sighed luxuriously. "_Tenkanmuri. _The blend created to honor my family. I never knew why it appealed to me so until this day. Are you sure you won't partake of some, your Lordship? The _Heavenly Crown_ hasn't been widely available for over four-hundred years. I would think a connoisseur such as yourself would be glad to sample such a rare taste."

This condescending bit of sophistication brought an end to Byakuya's forced silence.

"What… _are_ you?"

The corrupt creature before him pondered the steaming beverage.

"I think," he replied quietly, "it is time you found out, _Lord _Kuchiki."

_To be continued…_


	28. The Broken Spell: Explanation for Evil

Fireflies blinked lazily over the grounds of a gorgeously maintained manor. With the fall of evening, they had come out to lend their gentle, harmless glow to these immaculate environs. No lamps were lit, at the command of the lady of the house. It was her wish that on this night, no advantage be given to any observers.

In that fragrant nighttime setting, a servant knelt outside a screen door and spoke softly.

"My Lady… I have brought your son."

There was the sound of a cup being placed on a table, and a shadow moved across the lightless pane.

"Send him in."

The door was opened, and the faithful maid smiled tearfully at her beautiful charge before nudging him forth. When he was inside, she shut the door behind him and fled.

Manami, High Lady of the Noble House of Takuiyoku, sat in her private quarters, dressed in a silk evening gown in the yellow and gray of that house. With her long black hair released from its usual bindings to tumble down to the floor, she carefully watched her youngest child totter forth on short stubby legs. Barely a year old, little Sōsuke had only recently learned to walk, and was still somewhat prone to losing his balance.

It was so beautiful to watch him try.

He would be dead soon.

When her husband had not returned as he had promised, they had attempted to quietly sneak two different infants out, both of them belonging to women who had served this family for centuries and whose devotion was without reproach, standing behind them through the horror of these last few decades. They had even been willing to risk their own flesh and blood for the sake of the Takuiyoku.

Both of the mothers and their babies were still alive, as far as anyone knew. They had been picked up by Onmitsukidō members the moment they left the estate. Guards on the walls had reported to Her Ladyship that they had not been harmed out of hand, so perhaps there was still hope that their lives would be spared.

Manami dearly prayed that this was so.

She held out her arms.

"Come to me, my baby."

Though not able to speak yet, the boy understood the meaning behind her words and went to his mother's embrace. His tiny warm body pressed against her own, as it had since he was born. The noblewoman remembered that day, when she had celebrated the birth of her fifth child and second son. All of his siblings were grown and married by that point, and so the prospect of having childish laughter ringing through the halls again had been most welcome, especially considering the turmoil in their world at the time. It had not been a planned pregnancy, more the result of a hasty night of passion before her husband had to return to his duties. But it was welcome nonetheless. Unlike all the times before, she had hoped to cherish every moment of his life, letting the maidservants attend to him only when it was necessary, 'til the day when she was forced to let him go.

Why…?

_Why_ was that day _now?_

For more than twenty years, the lives of the nobility had been overshadowed by unprecedented terror. War had broken out between the clans, not just among the lesser nobility, but in many cases involving their benefactors, the Six Great Houses. Shiba, Kuchiki, Shihoin; so many of them had lost family members in this horrendous conflict, one that was made all the more frightening due to the almost total silence with which it was waged. There were no armies facing each other in bloody combat, nor even clandestine agents fighting in the shadows. This was a conflict waged in the civilized field of human existence. Trade negotiations, territory acquisitions, legal obligations and financial restitution. All very clean and proper.

And this period had seen more noble blood spilled than in the last two thousand years combined.

Small families with little power or status had been the first losses. They had entered into alliances with one another and then proceeded further, attracting the notice of their superiors as they competed in terms of trade and influence. Loans of money and land were made between these cooperatives, sealed with oaths and oftentimes bonds of marriage, all part of a supremely complicated series of moves and countermoves that were designed to weaken one's opponents, and in some cases your allies. The carefully maintained balance of power that had grown naturally among the upper echelons of the dead was subjected to extravagant vacillations and fluctuations that had never occurred in living memory. When certain minor clans were unable to fulfill their obligations in a timely manner, whether in terms of repayment or social obligations, they were deemed disgraced. For those weak nobles, such a travesty was more than they could be permitted to bear. The only way to expiate their shame was clear. Many was the formerly pleasant and unassuming lord who quite suddenly found himself wrapped in a white robe and holding a knife poised before his belly, with servants waiting to clean up the results. After a few months, it became something of a morbid pastime for the more powerful houses to wager on just who would next find themselves forced to commit seppuku in order to preserve their family's honor.

It was all rather amusing, until the first member of the middle nobility inexplicably wound up in the same position.

A series of risky ventures and ill-advised speculations had resulted in a steady weakening of that house's prestige throughout the years. When it finally came to a head, no one could really say that they hadn't seen it coming. Therefore, it was not so great a shock as some were wont to profess. These things happened. Ancient laws made account for anything that could possibly occur. There was always some legal or cultural solution available in their world, even if it should result in death. The annals of the nobility would simply have to be amended, and then they would proceed as usual. Such a thing was rare, but not unprecedented. Over quiet tea and on walks through the gardens of friends, the loss of their brethren was spoken of with deep commiseration, with utmost respect and regret. And when the proper grief had been expressed, the nobility moved on to other more pressing topics for that week.

The next month found them mourning two more such events.

Impossible, some were wont to whisper. How could _three_ clans of no mean worth be brought to such desperate straits in so short a time? Of course, that must surely be the end of it. As unlikely as this situation may be, there was nothing truly worthy of concern here. After all, our families are safe, are they not? We do not engage in any scurrilous practices or foolish financial risks. And we can count upon one another to help should perilous times approach. 'Yes, of course, my friend, you can depend upon me to be there when you need me. Haven't I always?' That is what they told one another, and smiled pleasantly.

Then the lords and ladies went home, and began to swiftly plot against their neighbors, to prevent any treachery before it could take shape.

After ten years, no one was laughing. There was not a day that went by when a claim of forfeiture or breach of trust was not brought before the Chamber of Central 46. Accustomed to setting their own pace in terms of decisions rendered, the ruling body of Seireitei found themselves now required to hear arguments, accept evidence, and pronounce verdicts as fast as possible, simply to keep from being overwhelmed with the backlog. What had once been a mere social anomaly had gradually snowballed into bloody anarchy, with no amount of wealth or influence being capable of bringing it to an end. After all, it wasn't as if they could simply send in the Gotei 13 to resolve this conflict. It was not a military matter anyway, and the business of the nobles was separate and inviolate, as clearly stipulated in ancient laws. All anyone could really recommend was that they allow the phenomenon to peter out gradually, as it certainly must. Inevitably order would restore itself. And until then, they would continue to act as the safeguards of all their society held dear.

Another decade, and nearly a quarter of the nobility were no more, their dignity shamed, their members dead by their own hand. The bodies of women and children were carried out to join the patriarchs of those heavenly titles on the funeral byres. It was now apparent that the framework of the regal afterlife was unraveling. Edicts the Chamber had passed to supposedly curb the rising tide had proven to be completely ineffective, the conflict adapting daily in response to those rules in order to keep itself going. It was a formless, mindless thing, but it had proven resistant to all the ancient wisdom and focused efforts of heaven's greatest minds. In some cases, the disputes were actually spilling out to have unintended consequences in the Rukongai, and even the living world, leading to vicious acts and economic turmoil. Total and absolute pandemonium, with no foreseeable resolution in sight.

And yet, on the surface, one could see no real sign of the deplorable state of affairs that held sway now. Appointments were kept. Marriages were arranged. Children were born. Family members left or were welcomed back. The appearance of civility was maintained. But in truth, it was fear that ruled in the Court of Pure Souls. Fear of what any messages in the morning might contain, whether in terms of news or legal action. Who knew whether or not some obscure clause in a contract could lead to all the expected proceeds from a venture to be seized by another clan, rendering you incapable of paying back all your creditors? In one swift stroke, a family could lose everything. And then would come the courts, and the decisions, and inevitably, the knife.

It was how the world worked, whether mortal or spiritual. They all knew that. There was no alternative but to obey.

Manami had never permitted herself to fear for the future of herself or her children. After all, she was the wife of Kaito Takuiyoku, the Lord of the clan. He was related to the King of Soul Society, as a matter of fact, while she was a younger daughter of one of the other Great Nobles. Not as wealthy or proud as, say, the Kuchiki, or the Shihoin, but definitely on par with them in terms of ancient honors, and therefore a suitable match for the grand Lord of the Takuiyoku, whose name translated to 'high ambition'.

Kaito ruled over his demesne in the name of their mighty sovereign, and continued to uphold the lofty tradition of their name. It had been an arranged marriage, but one that was swiftly proven amenable for both of them. While admittedly a very complicated and indecipherable person to many, he had shown himself willing to open up to his new bride more than any other could expect. In time, they had found a great deal to love in one another. He was a person with many admirable qualities; intelligent, dignified, gracious, and filled with life. She in turn strove to be the ideal wife. Kaito valued her strong devotion to their world, its virtues, and their growing family. When her husband was made a member of the Central 46, it had proven to be difficult at first. With Kaito forced to live away from the direct concerns at home, the burden of rule had fallen upon the shoulders of Manami. Of a certainty, without the support of her spouse, such a position would have inevitably broken her. There was so much involved in running a noble household and all its holdings that any one person would truly need to be blessed by heaven in order to deal with it all.

But Kaito recognized her need, and took every opportunity to visit or communicate with her. In this way he remained abreast of what was going on, whether in terms of loved ones or the various dealings of their powerful estate. Always the final decision remained with him in terms of important matters, but eventually, Manami felt sure enough of his wishes to be able to predict them, at least in small amounts. By some strange manner, it was almost as if being separated like this had brought them closer.

And so, when the troubles first began to surface, the Lady of Takuiyoku was diligent in reporting them to her absent love, and he instructed her how to act. Which people to support, whom to abandon, and how best to manage their assets such that they would weather this hurricane as well or better as anyone. And indeed, there was almost a degree of prescience in her noble husband's orders. Whatever costs they were forced to endure, inevitably the Takuiyoku remained free of false claims against them or any semblance of weakness. Their fortunes continued to be firm while others began to totter, and while she was horrified by the number of former acquaintances and friends who died or lost family to this sickening debacle, Manami was secretly relieved that no direct misfortune had arrived at their door in almost thirty years.

This all ended when Ginrei Kuchiki came calling.

It was a seemingly innocent visit. Early notice was given, the proper protocols were observed. As ever, the man was the very soul of grave, honest courtesy. And yet, when she related the gist of that conversation to Kaito, diligently recalling the topics and questions Kuchiki had put to her, she could almost feel the concern in his reply.

'_Do not be alarmed, my wife', _he had written. _'I will let no harm befall you.'_

It _had_ alarmed her to read that. Greatly.

Harm? What did that mean?

Two years later, she had her answer.

It all came so suddenly. In the early hours of that very morning, she had been roused from sleep by a disheveled messenger, who informed her in panicked tones that her lord, Kaito Takuiyoku, had been accused by Ginrei Kuchiki of engineering the last twenty odd years of calamity for the purpose of bringing his clan into a preeminent position among the Six Houses. In the face of evidence presented, Kaito was stripped of his membership in the 46 with only the barest semblance of a trial, and had been taken into custody.

This was truly a disaster. Robbed of her love's support, the gracious lady felt overwhelmed for the first time ever. She had sent out missives demanding an explanation of what had transpired to both the government and the Kuchiki clan, and had received terse denials for her requests, in the cases where anyone bothered to respond at all. Friends and allies were suddenly in short supply, much to her extreme surprise. Without any idea of how next to proceed, she had simply retreated into the walls of her manor, waiting to learn just what fate might have in store for her next.

She soon had her answer.

An official proclamation of the charges was made against Kaito, and hot on the heels of this came the ruling that found him guilty of treason and sedition.

As appalling as this situation might be, what came next was even worse. A royal edict, sealed with the authority of the King of Soul Society himself, was made known. In it, not only were the charges against Lord Takuiyoku upheld, but an even more astonishing sentence was proclaimed.

To atone for the terrible ordeals that they had supposedly placed upon the rest of the world, and for the sake of Soul Society and the rule of Nirvana's emperor, all blood members of the Takuiyoku were to give up their lives, along with certain unrelated people who were deemed complicit in the affair.

Her adopted family was to be annihilated without a trace.

Along with this revelation there came a most sinister confirmation, in the form of a golden dagger sent to every one of the King's relatives, without exception. The same lethal implement was brought by members of the Onmitsukidō to each of her children wherever they lived, as well as ones for her grandchildren and in-laws: cousins, aunts, nephews, and esteemed grandparents. Her infant babe Sōsuke was no exception. The message was clear.

Her King expected her to be her child's killer.

No specific timetable was given as to when this must be performed. But then, what did it matter _when_ you were asked to slit your son's throat? There was not even any mention made as to what she might do with herself afterwards. Perhaps it was an obvious inference that Manami was not expected to outlive her sons and daughters by very long.

She wrote pleas, asking to speak with the 46 and even to petition the King himself. These were not answered. When she attempted to leave her estate to make a personal appeal to the courts, armed shinigami from divisions commanded by scions of three regal houses informed her that she was confined to the grounds.

Now darkness had fallen. Though she had never found much comfort in alcohol, today there seemed to be no other recourse available to her. Elsewhere on the grounds, other members of her adopted family were bidding their loved ones farewell, trying to offer them some comfort. Her available children had stopped by, but Manami had given orders not to permit them to enter her rooms. Perhaps it was a sort of madness that seized her, but she could not bear to see the same look in their faces that every mirror told her she now wore.

Only little Sōsuke, who was too young to understand any of this, would she allow to see her.

"My baby," she whispered, voice slightly slurred from the drink. "My dear, sweet little baby. What I wouldn't give to see you grown and happy… living the life you were always meant to…"

Tears ran down her cheeks, falling into his thick curly hair. Looking up into her eyes already haunted by grief, the toddler seemed to understand that something was wrong, and began to cry.

She hugged him fiercely to herself, wishing that there was some way to make all of this be an awful dream. But not even the strongest liquor in the world could keep the truth from coming home. The fireflies outside her door would outlive all her offspring. Those sad, meaningless little insects would dance over all their graves.

As if to illustrate this macabre point, one of them suddenly glowed above her head.

The phosphorescent dot pulsed quietly, and Manami felt sudden overwhelming hatred for that inconsequential life. How _dare _they? All of them! All the beasts, the plants, the people, whether they be young, old, rich, poor; they would all go on living after this day! But not my family! Not my sons and daughters, nor even this precious blessing I have held in my embrace for all his life!

"Where is the justice in this?" she whispered to anyone who might be listening.

The firefly continued to hang in the air.

Of a sudden that tiny pinprick grew larger. Another second, and it was half the height of a man, and then fully, hovering at the center of the room.

And without warning, everything went still.

No sounds of activity in the house, or even crickets chirping outside. Looking down, Manami was astonished to find her baby had apparently dropped off into peaceful slumber.

What is going on?

"**Lady Takuiyoku."**

When Manami's head came up, she found that there was a cowled figure standing before her, face and hands completely hidden in its green garments.

From out of the shadows of that hood, the disturbing voice spoke once more.

"**I have come to help you."**

In spite of its words, the grieving mother shivered violently.

"Stay away," she whispered, clutching her son to her breast, though he did not react.

"**Your time is short," **the creature continued.** "Yamamoto has given the command. The captains of the Gotei 13 have been sent this night to kill your family. They are on their way at this very moment."**

Yamamoto? Shinigami captains? What was it talking about?

"What are you saying?" Manami managed to ask. "What _are _you?"

"**I am the only hope you have, if you wish for your son to live."**

"My… son?"

Had she truly gone mad? Was all this nothing more than the desperate delusions of a woman destined to outlive every one of her children?

As if reading her mind, the entity spoke. **"You are not imagining this. Death is winging towards you with the speed of shunpō. They will murder your baby right before your eyes if they must. But it need not be so. He can be saved."**

"How?" Whether fantasy or not, it served to offer the only solace she might find this night.

"**Give him to me."**

She looked at the eerie figure standing there, shimmering in a pale emerald radiance.

"No."

"**I will protect him, and keep him safe. He will grow to manhood, and live in the manner he was meant to."**

"GUARDS!" Manami screamed in panic, scuttling backwards with the immobile Sōsuke. She realized that something wicked had entered her home unbidden. "GUARDS, COME QUICKLY!"

"**I shall make him stronger than any other man…"**

"HELP ME! SOMEONE, PLEASE, I NEED…!"

"…**and then he shall take revenge for his father, and all his brothers and sisters."**

That made the hysterical woman pause.

"K…Kaito…?"

The shadow drew closer. **"Your husband lives, but not for long. They keep him alive in case he might break and spill his secrets when he learns of your deaths. It is a false hope. I know him. He will not betray his King, no matter how richly it is deserved."**

A weird sort of calm fell on her, and Manami could have sworn there was something familiar in that voice.

"Who are you…?"

"**Please, there is little time. My presence might be detected if I stay much longer. If you love your son…"**

"Do not seek to frighten me. I am not a child."

The parent looked at that mysterious being. Her features were drawn, wasted, but possessed of an instinctive strength. Hope was causing her to lose all her energy, and she wished to be done with it quickly, one way or another. "Show me your face. You cannot expect me to trust you if you do not trust me. Reveal yourself, and I will decide if you truly care about my child's future enough for me to part with him."

The intruder was silent.

Then…

"**Very well."**

It reached up, and drew away the hood, to reveal a face that she knew.

The female captain who had been midwife for all her children's births.

"Oh. It's you."

"**Yes," **that famous figure responded, her voice a low, unprecedented hiss.

And Manami held up her silent baby, like an offering to heaven.

"Take him." It was a command, the last significant one she knew she would ever give. "Keep my baby safe, on your life. He is yours now. Do not…" and she almost choked on the next words, "… _do not let them outlive him!"_

The sorceress moved forward, and accepted the limp body.

"**Your son will be King. I promise it."**

"So long as he lives," the lady sobbed back, holding on to her youngest for those last few precious moments.

One hand slipped into the folds of the robe, and emerged with something that caused Manami's heart to almost stop. It was a simulacrum of her baby. A clone, completely identical to the original, twitching faintly with a vague hint of life.

"**It is a gigai I created, with a false soul within designed to mimic him. No one else will be able to tell the difference."**

The Lady of the Takuiyoku did not question this bizarre occurrence. Instead she accepted that tiny form. Looking down into its staring eyes, she tried to find something of the warmth and life that existed in her own offspring. But try as she might, there did not appear to be any resemblance.

Well, perhaps it is simply because I'm his mother.

While she was engaged in this examination, the specter produced a ceramic flask and filled the empty cup of saké resting close by, murmuring an incantation as she did. Picking it up, she held it out for Manami.

"**Drink. You will forget all this, and give nothing away to the assassins as a result."**

This she accepted as truth. It was hardly the most astonishing thing to happen this day, after all. Manami raised the dish to her lips and drank it in one gulp.

"**Say your farewells, Lady Takuiyoku."**

Manami stared into the sleeping face of her baby. Reaching up, she brushed his cheek tenderly, fingering his silky brown curls.

"Sleep, my darling," she murmured, forcing a smile even as she wept. "Your mother loves you." Then she placed a quick kiss on his forehead, and whispered, "Live!"

Holding her child, the enshrouded mage drew back, seeming to merge with the shadows as she did. Manami watched as Sōsuke began to fade away.

And she sang his favorite lullaby.

As she did, a spell was uttered from the darkness, and Manami's head sank to her breast in magical sleep.

Three minutes later, a scream caused her to awake.

Looking around, the bewildered woman found herself still holding on to her baby, who appeared to be rather subdued. A cup of liquor was in her hand, and there was shouting and pleading coming from seemingly all around.

What… was happening?

She rose to her feet, crossing over towards the door, holding the child by one hand.

Before she could make it there, the portal slid open, and a man came in.

He was wearing a white robe, holding a sword that gleamed wetly. That much was clear. But even in the dim light, Manami recognized the face of this assassin.

The Lord of Shiba.

"No," she whispered, backing away. "No… don't… don't come near him."

There was not a scrap of emotion to be found in those eyes, whether for good or ill. Instead, he held out a hand she knew instinctively was already stained with the blood of one of her sons.

"Give him here. You don't have to die."

In response, Manami turned and dashed for the door leading outside.

A blow sent her spinning, and she landed in a heap. Scrambling upright, she recognized immediately that Sōsuke was no longer in her grip. The last shred of her reason was swept away. With an anguished wail, she snatched up the golden knife from the floor and whipped around, a lioness seeking to defend her cub.

Manami turned in time to see the zanpakutō rise over her head.

"STOP!" someone roared.

But it was too quick. He passed by her. She heard Shiba sheathe his sword, and speak.

"Please forgive me."

Then all she saw was the floor rushing up at her eyes, and she actually heard her own severed head strike the ground, before darkness claimed her, and Lady Manami Takuiyoku was no more.

Standing in the doorframe, Jūshirō Ukitake stared in uncomprehending horror at what he had just witnessed. The elder captain turned an accusing look on his junior brethren.

"Why did you do that? She was not included in our orders!"

Captain Shiba merely gave a brief shake of his head.

"A parent's worst nightmare is to outlive their children." He returned the white-haired wizard's stare unflinchingly. "If you had any of your own, you would have known that, Ukitake-san. I did her a favor."

"If having children means you can kill another parent so cavalierly, then I hope to never be a father."

There was nothing more spoken between them, and so Shiba turned to where one of the last living members of the Takuiyoku stared up at them with puzzled, uncomprehending eyes.

His katana flashed in and out of its scabbard.

And the boy's head came off.

* * *

Arriving at her hidden sanctum, Unohana knew she was racing against the clock. The slaughter would commence in mere moments. She had to work swiftly, if her objective was to be achieved. Every moment could cost the boy strength that might prove to be the decisive factor in the future.

There was just so much to take into account. But her will was strong, and her mind without equal. It could be done. This night's horror would be turned to good effect, even if she was the only one who recognized it.

The only light in the cavern came from glowing runes Unohana had painstakingly inscribed on the smooth stone floor prior to visiting the Takuiyoku estate. When viewed up close, this complicated arrangement of mystic symbols seemed to wind in and around one another. Almost as if they were alive.

Truth be told, it was not life that infused this enchantment with power.

More like death.

Placing the slumbering infant at the center of the pattern, Unohana stepped back outside. She crouched down at the edge of the light painting. A chant fell from her lips, and the glyphs began to move and respond to that droning intonation. They slipped around and beneath the boy's body, taking on a new appearance every few seconds. Still the sorceress continued to weave her spell. In the midst of that supernatural display, young Sōsuke lay breathing peacefully.

A full minute passed in which nothing happened.

Another minute, and Retsu began to wonder if she was already too late. This affair had come about so fast. The death sentence that the King issued for his extended family arrived swiftly upon the heels of the Central 46 sending their liege lord word of what had transpired that day. If one were inclined to be suspicious, as she was, one might believe that His Majesty had been preparing for just such an eventuality for a very long time, which would explain his lightning-swift reaction to the news. As it was, she had almost missed this prime opportunity to test her theories. Such a potent collection of spirit power might never come along again. Fortunately, the former Witch of the Marsh had been working in preparation of certain possibilities for many centuries now.

The majority of the condemned had been given the option of cleansing their own perceived sins at their leisure, but Yamamoto had decreed that the immediate family of Kaito Takuiyoku must not be permitted to survive the hour. She had made sure to speak out against this affair during the captains' meeting, and received the commensurate chastising and dismissal from the venture that she had come to expect. Genryusai no doubt expected her to be confined to her quarters as a result. But the second-strongest soul in their ranks had long experience in dealing with his abject lessons, and it had only taken her half-an-hour to complete the set-up process. Still, every second that ticked by was one she recognized as possibly marking someone's death. And as previously stated, she could not afford to miss this chance.

While considering all that in the midst of her conjuring, one of the symbols suddenly glowed red.

Exultation flooded her. But still, the necromancer did not skip a syllable of her spell. As she watched, that blood-colored mark slid over to where Sōsuke lay.

It passed into his body, and the child let out a moan.

Don't die, Unohana prayed. Please don't make me break my vow so soon.

She waited in feverish anticipation, mouthing the words with practiced ease but still on edge to see the result.

A second later, that glyph passed back into the squirming volume of magic around him. Once more, it had turned blue.

And before her, the boy's soul expanded proportionately.

It _worked!_

By this point, several other symbols were glowing red to begin clustering around that prone form, and so she knew that the obliteration of the Takuiyoku had begun. Somewhere far off, the members of Sōsuke's family were being exterminated as he slept. And through Unohana's arcane arts, whenever one of them perished, their individual spirit power was reclaimed by her spell tapestry before it could vanish and then channeled into the child.

A procedure like this was not one that simply any spellcaster could hope to accomplish. It required certain conditions be met beforehand. First off, the recipient of that power had to be of blood relation to those who died, so that there be no adverse initial reaction. This was not the first time that Retsu had attempted such a procedure. In the last few centuries, she had managed to acquire several members of noble houses faced with death. However, every time before, the subjects perished before they could achieve a sufficient level of power to meet her ends. Eventually it had dawned upon the spiritual researcher that she would require a very young soul, one that was still susceptible to the transfusion but strong enough to withstand such a grand apotheosis that she envisaged.

Of course, the prospective candidates ready to meet the bill were rather sparse. To have any chance of success, no mere lesser house would do. It would take a member of the Six Great Clans, she reasoned. But that in and of itself posed problems. After all, even if she were to get her hands on a potential candidate, how would she go about killing a sufficient quantity of their family to have any significant impact on their soul? The head of the Fourth squad had never been able to come up with a solution that she could stomach, and this plan had been placed on the backburner of her ambitions.

And then, just like that, her enemies presented her with exactly the situation that she could not countenance arranging herself. It was almost enough to make her laugh.

They would come to regret their inhumanity.

Under the guidance of the greatest mage in history, those marks funneled their burdens of death into Sōsuke Takuiyoku. In order to keep his immature spirit from imploding as a result of all that burgeoning power, Unohana was forced to manage and regulate the transfer, a process that took hours. Hundreds of people were put to death that night, from his immediate family to people only distantly related to him. The Great Houses tended to intermarry among themselves, so the slaughter was fairly localized. Individually, none of those executed were particularly notable. While the Four Clans tended to produce some of the strongest souls to be found in the afterlife, when compared to your average shinigami captain, they were no great threat. But take them all together, and squeeze the entire collective soul-stuff of the Takuiyoku into one single form, and you had something that could conceivably transcend any natural shinigami, no matter how powerful they may be.

Even Yamamoto.

It was a perilous line she walked that night. Unohana was required to use her own matchless talents in preserving and regulating life to prevent an eruption of spiritual energy that would surely eradicate the boy. No other being in existence possessed the power and experience necessary to bring such an endeavor to a successful conclusion. And even with all that, there was no shortage of close calls. Several times, the infant in whom so much of her hopes rested came close to simply giving out, his body unable to accept everything that she was attempting to bless him with. Were it not for the tireless efforts of his appointed guardian, the sole surviving heir to his family's name must have perished as surely as any of his kin, whether they met their end by their own hands or her comrade's blades.

Early the next morning, when she was half-dead from her efforts, voice now barely a whisper, the final hurdle came. This proved to be a soul of superlative essence and enormity that was absorbed into the blooming waif. Unohana recognized it, and also what it meant.

Back in the dungeons of the Seireitei, Sōsuke had just lost his father.

The knowledge of the egregious crime committed in the name of their King made the lady curse that absent monarch with all her heart.

But this was not the end. Justice would be done, if she had any say in it. For there at her feet, dead to the world in more ways than one, was the crucible from which the burning vengeance of the Takuiyoku would be poured to burn all those heartless fiends, and make them suffer for their wickedness.

Wrapping the lone survivor of that bloody night in nourishing magic, she spirited him away from the site of her triumph, to begin the next stage of his evolution into her personal champion.

* * *

Towards the end of this recitation, a pause ensued in response to _vasto lorde_ coming upon the chamber.

There was no doubt as to their provenance. Power poured off them in waves, enough to chill the bones of anyone not blessed with an overabundance of reiatsu themselves. They entered the room from different routes. First came a skeletal rider in black on a steed of similar fleshless vein, galloping in and reining up hard on catching sight of the assembled party. Its skull was held in one hand, from which disturbingly human eyes peered suspiciously.

"Lady Unohana Retsu, Lord Byakuya Kuchiki," Aizen spoke up with a merry grin. "Permit me to introduce _Segunda Espada _Barragan Luisenbarn, my future viceroy."

The lady stood gracefully and nodded to their guest, as clean and regal as an empress in her own domain. "I am pleased to meet you at last, Barragan-san. I have heard many legends concerning you."

"_While your identity is unknown to us, woman."_ His scorn was evident as he turned back to his ruler. _"Be this yet another of your feckless turncoats?"_

"Must I remind you of the virtues of princely courtesy yet again, my gentle Luisenbarn?" Sōsuke had adopted a charming tone which was belied by the viciousness in his smile. "Lady Unohana is of commensurate stature as myself in respect to you. Now please be silent, we are conversing with the captain."

That bony nightmare bristled at this snub, but at the clear warning in Aizen's eyes, he seemed content to draw off to a solitary region of the hall and take to examining the environment.

Attention was shifted from that _vasto lorde _when a larger one, a horror as much beast as woman, rose from the floor then as though it were more permeable than water. She eyed them all coolly, though whether she made a distinction between friend or foe among the white-robed attendants was difficult to determine, her serpentine familiars sniffing the air with their tongues.

"Another welcome ally," Retsu spoke with warmest consideration.

"Tia Harribel," her adopted son supplied. "The _Tercera Espada_. I trust you won't need me to repeat the introductions, dear Harribel?"

No response was forthcoming from the monster. To the surprise of virtually all, it was no captain, whether official or not, who seemed to draw her interest, but the short-haired girl sleeping in their midst.

"Fancy that," Tia murmured with no attempt to disguise her hunger. "A second chance."

When the Hollow bore down upon that helpless target, Byakuya responded by swiftly interposing himself between them, raising his blade warningly. Before either side could initiate bloodshed, the captain of Squad Four raised her voice.

"No violence, please."

If the air of authority in her words was not enough to curb their inclinations, Retsu's elevated reiatsu certainly caused both combatants to reconsider any martial tendencies. The _Tercera _turned an appraising eye on that imposing female, then moved away from her intended victim, leaving the shinigami now clustered towards the center of that space.

"I understand that Ulquiorra is taking his time arriving in order to accommodate Orihime," Aizen drawled then, glancing between his subordinates, "but can anyone enlighten me as to Stark's location? We had to leave him behind when his condition… deteriorated."

In response to this, one of Harribel's lion jaws opened wide, and spat something out. The regurgitated element hit the ground with a wet smack and rolled for a bit, revealing itself to be a dark-haired man in white raiment with a sword at his waist. He came to a rest facedown not three paces from Unohana, and as if sensing her incredulous gaze upon him, the disgraceful figure raised his head and looked at her out of morose orange eyes.

"I wanna be dead now," he muttered, and then his face hit the floor with a sharp thud. There came a brief giggle, followed by a weary sigh, and then what might have been snores.

While Unohana was not the only person in the room nonplussed by this bewildering display, it was to his youthful-seeming patroness that Aizen offered an explanation.

"Our _Primera_. Whether you call him Coyote Stark or Fenris Wolf, I assure you that his power is without equal among the Hollows. It's simply that I thought he would be more manageable in this form until the battle is joined, although his increased lucidity does come at the price of emotional fluidity."

"Will he be all right there?" The grand healer seemed to be experiencing some level of professional concern, but the Lord of the Takuiyoku waved aside her concerns.

"He will serve when the time comes. But I believe we were informing Captain Kuchiki about what led up to the rebellion of today. May I have the honor of starting?"

She inclined her head, and he turned to where Byakuya continued to hover protectively over his sister. For his part, the Sixth squad captain spared him only the barest glance. But at the arresting turn of Aizen's features, he found himself quite unable to take his eyes off him, for there was a danger there which surpassed even that of the three supreme devils now lingering in the room.

"You have accused me of being a traitor, Lord Kuchiki. But I am the son of martyrs. People who devoted themselves completely to the word and rule of a vicious, selfish sovereign. It was he who ordered my father to seek the destruction of the other Houses, out of fear that they were growing powerful enough to challenge his authority. Kaito obeyed the wishes of this despot, and was forsaken in return by that same ruler. My mother died for no greater sin than giving birth to her children. And _your _family prospered from it. Your father took the seat vacated by my own parent. In spite of what he must have suspected, Ginrei Kuchiki continued to give unquestioning fealty to the true architect of the Manor Wars: the King of Soul Society. He even arranged for certain friends suspected of treason to not have to die, like the Lord of the Sassato. And almost six hundred years later, you still behave as if none of that matters. Even as you look at me, I see the condemnation in your eyes, my Lord."

"I was raised in anonymity, among the ghosts of the mortal realm." Sōsuke spoke evenly, keeping the other nobleman pinned under his unblinking gaze. "My dearest Retsu," and he took one of her hands in his, laying a kiss upon it and receiving a smile in return, "would come to check upon me whenever it was safe. As I grew, she related to me the manner of my parents' passing, and who was responsible for it. And by myself, I came to understand what that meant."

Unohana spoke up then. "When he reached a certain age, Sōsuke and I began to craft a plan. We took note of every fault in the workings of the afterlife, whether it be in the Gotei 13, the Rukongai, Hueco Mundo or the human world. It was apparent to us that the repressive system of living that Yamamoto had modeled his dukedom on had flaws that would only grow more pronounced with time. Restricting the shinigami's interaction with the living to certain limited duties meant that humanity was basically deprived of the spiritual aspect of existence they had depended upon for so long before. No more did we offer them guidance and healing, a saving grace when it seemed as though all hope in their lives was lost. We were denied the option of saving life when it did not involve Hollow attacks. This, perhaps, was what contributed so greatly to the degradation of humanity's collective spirit."

"Being a lifelong resident of the Seireitei, you would not truly know what I refer to, Kuchiki-taichou," the mystic maiden continued. "But if you were to visit the mortal plane for more than the occasional foray into battle, you might be surprised to learn just how miserable human beings are nowadays. They have been blessed with an astonishing rate of advancement in terms of technology. However, there is no corresponding increase in their well-being. The majority still struggle throughout their lives simply to get by, wracked with fear and desperately seeking to keep death at bay, no matter what it costs them in terms of dignity or morality. Without any clear understanding of what follows death, they are forced to live their lives under a dark shroud of ignorance, one that leaches the happiness from their lives and sets them up for an even worse fate afterwards."

A hookah had materialized from the floor beside her in the last few minutes. After filling it with water and some specific herbs, the beautiful healer now took a drag on the brass pipe and blew out a line of bright blue smoke. Her dark, mysterious eyes watched Byakuya through the fumes.

"Are you aware of the statistics concerning Hollow transformations these last hundred years, Taichou? If not, I'll enlighten you: there has been an increase of 1,200% in the last two centuries. Practically one in every three souls nowadays cannot make it to Soul Society, and remain bound in the prison of a world that takes even less notice of them than when they were alive. No matter what they profess to believe in regards to the end, when true death finally comes for them, more often than not they find themselves unable or unwilling to accept that their time on Earth is finished. And so they are easy prey for the Hollows, whether as food or becoming comrades, thereby swelling the population of that netherworld far faster than what we take in."

Unohana turned her head to observe the three examples of that species, then continued calmly. "And what of us? The number of souls born with a shinigami's power hasn't changed to any significant degree. Our ranks remain roughly the same as they did in the beginning of the 13 Squads. And how do we respond to this unavoidable fact? Does our leadership seek for a solution that will allow us to at least keep up with the rate of mankind's fall? No, of course not!"

She gave an irritated flick of her hand, trailing a line of smoke in its wake. "They insist that nothing is wrong, and proceed in the same headstrong, thoughtless manner that has guaranteed their superiority in the past. Safe and secure in the knowledge that we have the single most powerful souls in existence on our side, they all think themselves inviolate, untouchable! And so long as they are at peace, there is no problem. What matter that the rest of the world sinks beyond the reach of salvation by the day, so long as the shinigami and their noble leaders can live in comfort?"

Retsu now leveled an accusing stare at Byakuya, and he found it difficult to return that look. Her voice had a merciless edge to it that seemed almost criminal coming from those tender lips.

"I have watched this process of sloth and corruption since its infancy. But I have not been content to wait for the tide to overwhelm us one day, when the population of Hueco Mundo grows to the point where that realm cannot contain it, and comes spilling out. Or a leader arises among them, be it _vasto lorde _or otherwise, who will fashion an army and turn this cold war into a furnace of bloodshed and misery for all the worlds." There was a growl from Barragan's direction which she ignored. "I alone sought to ameliorate the situation, at the cost of my life should Yamamoto or anyone else find out."

All but the _Primera _and the incapacitated Rukia seemed to be giving her their attention now. She picked up the flask before her and examined it, speaking softly, as if to herself.

"Abarai and Rukia were not the only ones on whom a memory spell was placed, you see. Before I brought Sōsuke into the Rukongai, I cast _Cloud Over Moon _upon him. He completely forgot about me and his heritage as a result. This was something we had agreed upon as necessary. If our plan was to succeed, there must be nothing to tie us together, on the chance that it would arouse suspicion. Yamamoto was ever chary of my power, and it was only by offering no significant opposition to his command that I was able to operate with only limited surveillance of my doings. But after my champion was accepted into the shinigami academy with my help, then I retreated almost completely into the shadows. I left the culmination of our goals in my ward's capable hands. While he did not remember anything about our past involvement, my spell was specifically crafted to leave him with the memory of what he must do. Even if Sōsuke did not fully understand _why_ it was so, he need never doubt that there was a reason."

She glanced approvingly up at her accomplice. "And he fulfilled all my faith in him. Without any direct help from me, Aizen Sōsuke weakened the underpinnings of the Seireitei and crafted an army with which to oppose them, effectively nullifying any prospective Hollow conquerors in the process. My involvement was marginal. Throughout the centuries, whenever I encountered a spirit I felt could be of use to us, I left a small spell-mark upon them, one that would be visible only to my champion. Kaname Tosen was brought to me when he was an infant. His parents hoped that I might be able to cure him of his congenital blindness. This proved beyond me, for…" and Retsu passed a hand before her eyes, "… personal reasons. But I saw the potential for greatness in the child, and so I was able to alter his soul senses to the point where his handicap would not prevent him from surviving and prospering. Eventually he came to us of his own free will. As for Ichimaru, I found him living in the ruins of my former estate in the Rukongai, and encouraged him to seek his fortune behind the walls of the Seireitei. He proved of great use to us in drawing suspicion away from Captain Aizen. Why look for any hidden threats, when there is an obvious one staring you right in the face?"

"I watched everything take place, intervening only when it was truly desperate. Like in the case of your grandfather, Kuchiki-taichou. I made my own contributions whenever possible, such as encouraging the deterioration in health of Ukitake and Shunsui, and stabilizing the Hollow-infected soul of Renji Abarai. But as I said, the greater part of this aim was left in the hands of my successors. Which is what has brought us to…"

Unohana stopped talking.

In the sudden stillness, they all became aware of something approaching them.

All heads then turned towards the source of that disturbance.

After a few seconds, the sound of footsteps came clear, and then a figure emerged from one of the doors leading into this chamber.

Glancing from one face to the next with the powerless form of Ichigo Kurosaki still hanging behind him, Yumichika Ayasegawa raised an eyebrow.

"Did I miss anything important?" he sniffed casually.

* * *

The Hollows continued to cluster hungrily around them.

And in response, Momo unsheathed her sword. For a while she held Tobiume over her head, like she was taunting them with it. Their mandibles opened, and slavering tongues emerged, accompanied by despairing moans.

Then the company of lost souls obeyed her command, retreating back to cluster around the entrance while watching them both with undisguised hunger and no small amount of fear.

Apparently satisfied, their mistress turned and squatted on her haunches, the bared weapon held out between them.

It sickened Tōshirō to see the look on her face.

"Go on," the pixyish lieutenant said. "Ask me! I can tell it's killing you not to."

Some measure of remaining dignity roared at the captain not to obey her commands. But the hurt and betrayal overrode any vestiges of pride, and so he acquiesced.

"What's your name?"

Apparently this was not the question she was expecting, for her mouth opened and then quickly closed shut on what she had been about to say. His jailor watched him warily, and the boy stared right back.

With a huff, Hinamori jumped up and began pacing about.

"Damn, it's just like you to be difficult. Here I am offering to explain why I'm doing this, and what the reason behind everything that's been going on for over a century might be, and you just treat me condescendingly, like I'm some hopeless addle-witted little girl."

She stopped and swung about on him then to point her sword at his face.

"I'm not anything you might think I am, Tōshirō Hitsugaya, _Captain _of the _Tenth Squad! _Always so full of yourself, like you can do no wrong! Like you're sanctified by heaven in everything you do, and the rest of us poor uncertain creatures should just get out of your way and let you do whatever you want! Like we don't MATTER!"

Clearly whatever changes might have come over his childhood friend, her self-control was not improved by them. While she was engaged in upbraiding him, the pinned death god attempted to unobtrusively focus his reiatsu between the bands around his neck and wrists.

Of a sudden Hinamori darted in and slashed her weapon across his face.

Shocked, he could feel blood flowing down the cut across his cheek.

Momo… _cut _me!

"Actions speak louder than words, Shiro-kun," she spoke softly. "Even down in the dirt at my feet, you still can't help but underestimate me. Don't try any of that funny stuff again. You're not nearly as clever as you might believe."

He began to shiver then, and a venomous snarl burst from his clenched teeth.

"You CUT ME! _Are you INSANE?_"

Momo's head jerked back in surprise at this accusation. For just a moment, there stood that same sniffly, anxious young woman he remembered, the one who got upset over the smallest things and cried quietly in her room when she thought no one was around.

Then Tobiume glowed a vibrant scarlet, and her face went stiff with anger.

"Are you surprised that I can hurt you, oh mighty Captain Hitsugaya?"

She brought the gleaming katana up before her face, observing her reflection in its length.

"That's just like you captains. None of you think that we're any real concern. We fight and die for you, but in the end, we're simply replaceable, aren't we? There's always another star student waiting in the wings to step up and get a pat on the head for following orders. You all just…!"

"I see you've adopted Aizen's bigotry towards any thinking but his own," he cut in quickly.

Her reaction came just as fast. Hinamori sprang forward and kicked Hitsugaya savagely in the face, splitting his lip and making his nose bleed.

"DON'T YOU _EVER_ SAY THAT ABOUT HIM!" she screamed wildly, completely off her rocker. "You have no idea what Aizen-sama has done for me, or even why he's doing any of this! It's NOT for the reasons you think! He's not trying to make himself a king, he's trying to free us all from the one we already have!"

"One betrayal at a time," Tōshirō countered, spitting out blood and glaring at her.

She looked ready to lash out again, or maybe just kill him outright. Her facial muscles were twitching and jerking beyond her control, and the tendons in her neck stood out, causing a frightful change in the normally gentle and gracious young woman.

Of a sudden all that drained away, and Momo knelt before him once more, putting them on the same level. There was clear hurt spelled out in the grieving way she looked into his eyes, and against his better judgment, the icy warrior felt his throat burn with shame at causing this reaction in her.

"Do you even want to hear what I have to say?" she whispered.

He gave no answer.

"I'm disobeying him right now. Aizen-sama told me to finish it as soon as I brought you down. But I wanted you to _hear what I have to say! _Because you're not as far gone as the rest of them, I think… you still might have a chance, Tōshirō -kun! Maybe… I don't need to…"

So we're back to Tōshirō -kun, now? To _hell_ with your reasons, Momo!

He was just about to tell her this, when…

_Let her speak._

…Hyōrinmaru? Why?

_She knows what is transpiring better than you. Listen to her, and learn. It will prepare you for what lies ahead._

The captured captain thought about what his zanpakutō said.

What have I got to lose?

"Momo…"

The girl blinked and looked at him with tear-filled eyes. This time, however, his heart was hardened, and he felt nothing.

"Please tell me why you are doing this."

There came a pause then in which Hinamori seemed torn between disbelief and hope.

It all came out of her in a rush.

"Aizen-sama wants to end the war! He intends to bring the shinigami and the Hollow together, and lead them back into the world of the living, so that we can better humanity!" Momo's eyes were sparkling, and she spread her hands out before him as though she were unveiling some secret treasure. "Human beings experience so much suffering at each others' hands, for the exact same reason we do! They live in a system that prevents them from changing anything that doesn't work. It makes them powerless. So many rules and… limitations and… stupid arbitrary restrictions on how they should live their lives. All their emotions, their love and anger, bitterness and… hopelessness! It's a sickness, you see! And we… WE'RE partly to blame for it! Because we have so much to offer them, so many treasures that could solve their problems and answer their questions… but we don't' let them have it!"

"Think about it, Tōshirō -kun!" Momo proceeded eagerly. "How many of their illnesses could the Fourth division alone cure, if they weren't forced to tend only to shinigami? Our spells can heal wounds in the living and alleviate sicknesses that would otherwise be fatal, the ones that mortals can't even begin to start finding a cure for now! And that's not all! What about offering them comfort by allowing them to speak with their deceased loved ones? Can you imagine how much grief, fear and misery would be abolished if the humans were given solid, undeniable proof that there is another world waiting for them where they can be reunited with the ones they've lost, that death is not the end? We have the answer to that great question, but we're told not to give it to them! Instead we're supposed to be like gods, parceling out blessings, just enough to keep them content but never truly happy. What's the reason for that, anyway, I ask you? All the wars and hatred fought over that mystery could be ended if we were only to step up and reveal ourselves. We can free the living from their most pressing doubts."

"But more than anything else… we can free them from _evil!"_

Listening to everything that came before, Hitsugaya had to admit that there was some merit to what Momo was saying.

But at the way she said that word, he knew they had just stepped into dangerous waters.

"You see, the single greatest burden that mankind labors under is ignorance. Who can be trusted, what is the right choice to make, and who is responsible for the atrocities committed throughout the world. There is so much evil being done in the name of petty reasons like money and power that the virtuous can't keep up with it. They don't even know where or how to begin. But we… _we _know! Because we spirits, whether it be death god or Hollow… _we see all the things that they do! _The people who murder, and rob, and betray and lie and cover up their crimes every which way they can… they think they can get away with it because they know how to hide and work the system! But there is no hiding from the gods! We are _above _their reach! There is nothing they can do to influence us or prevent us from observing their vile acts… and then bringing punishment upon them!"

_Definitely_ back to crazy again.

"Not just us, but the Hollows as well! That's their role in Aizen-sama's plan. Spirits can be anywhere in the world we want to be. You see, the shinigami will observe and report on any humans who try to commit wicked acts, and the Hollows in turn will be ready at a moment's notice to bring punishment upon those evil ones. It could range from mutilation to simply killing them and eating their souls! There won't be any chance that they can escape justice that way, don't you see? That way, the Hollows will have a noble purpose beyond simply feeding themselves. The _Espada _and the other arrancar will keep all of the lesser Hollow in line, as well as overseeing their evolution. If any of them disobey, the shinigami will be called in to purify them and bring them to Soul Society where they can't hurt anyone. This way, the afterlife will serve to protect the living from the worst elements of all three worlds. Do you understand me so far, Tōshirō-kun?"

_Hitsugaya?_

Yes?

_She's mad._

"It's too much for them to bear! The humans need someone outside the scope of their world to step in and provide a solution that doesn't operate according to promoting an agenda, or…!"

"Hinamori?"

She halted to draw breath, and peered down at him.

Hitsugaya looked right back, completely calm.

"I can see why Aizen felt it would be necessary to smash Soul Society in order to carry this plan out. Neither the King nor Yamamoto would ever permit what you have just related to come to pass. I'm not blind to the worst of our society, and I won't pretend like we're living in paradise."

"But I would like to make one thing clear." The child-captain's emerald-ice eyes narrowed, his pupils contracting like a serpent's. "And that is, if you think this is actually something you can take part in, then you're not crazy. You're just a fool."

Momo blinked, and Tōshirō continued.

"You said something before about 'finishing' me, Hinamori. I've fought side-by-side with you for years. We've purified Hollows together, but I've never known you to kill another spirit. Even if you have become a traitor, I refuse to believe that you are a murderer. And that's why you could never sit back and be comfortable in the sort of world that you just described. I know you. You're no killer. You're a defender."

"_Snap, Tobiume."_

The sharp branches of her unleashed shikai then wavered only a few centimeters before his skin, and small snaps of scarlet fire flicked out, causing him to wince.

"You _knew_ me, Hitsugaya Tōshirō . When I was a little girl. That's all."

She was smiling at him now. A big, wide-eyed grin that held equal parts glee and unrestrained malice. It was the sort of smirk you might see on a maniac, and it made him think of…

Gin.

Momo continued casually, drawing her weapon slowly back and forth before him like a child toying with an insect. "I'll admit, I used to be a lot happier and more innocent than I am now. But you don't know what I went through at the shinigami academy. Even you, a shrimpy little brat with white hair, has no idea what it's like for a small girl with good grades and a strong will to try and make it in a shinigami man's world."

The blade flicked out, and Hitsugaya cried out as a burning cut appeared on his cheek, scoring an 'X' where she had sliced him before.

"They abused me," she hissed. "Maybe not as bad as they wanted to, because I had Renji and Kira with me, and most of them were afraid of those two. But that didn't keep those _animals _from trying to wear me down! The way they glared at me, and ridiculed me behind my back, and all the little things they did that no one else claimed to see, so they were permitted to get away with it! I never took it quietly, I always reported the incidents or challenged them to speak out right to my face. Of course, they were too cowardly, and they always backed down. But they still didn't STOP!"

"Then one day, I just HAD IT! Some boy, I don't even remember his name, I heard him call me 'The Mighty Midget,' and that was the last straw! I dragged him out to an honor duel in the practice yard after class, and I beat him down in just ten seconds! I showed them all, right then and there, that I was NOT going to take any more of their CRAP!"

"And do you know what happened THEN, Hitsugaya?" Hinamori shrieked, and another cut blossomed on his bleeding face. "That bastard waited two days, and then he got a couple of his buddies and came after me! That night he caught me while I was coming back from an officer's lecture, and he and his friends tried to have some FUN WITH ME! Well, they got a little more than they bargained for! I was stronger than them, even without my zanpakutō! So guess what happened, Hitsugaya? Guess what sweet, innocent little Momo did?"

"That's right!I _KILLED THEM!_"

She licked her lips, trembling. "I didn't mean to, you see. I was just… trying to make them stop! I only meant to… wound the first one. But the spell, it… I guess I put too much power behind it, because it took the bastard's arm off. And he was screaming and making a mess all over me, so then I just… blew his head off."

And she slapped her hands together, while making a popping sound.

"After that I really lost control."

Momo was skipping back and forth, dancing before him while wearing the strangest, most heartbreaking smile ever. "The other two saw what I did, and tried to get away. After what they tried to do to me, I couldn't bear the thought of them being given a chance to make up an excuse to anyone, or even taking one more step! So I killed them! I took them aPART, HITSUGAYA-KUN! Tobiume told me how, even from far away! But when I was done… I couldn't believe it. They were dead, in pieces all around me. I didn't…"

Tears began to fall, and she violently used the sleeve of her robe to obliterate them.

"I wasn't sorry."

Her voice was hoarse with holding back the sobs, but there was no denying she meant that last statement.

"I was _never _sorry for what I did! They had it coming! Somebody should have put a stop to it long before they ever got the chance to come after me. But nobody did, not the other students and certainly not the teachers… and because of that, I didn't know who to turn to. Except for maybe… him…!"

There was no need to ask whom she meant.

"Aizen!" Hitsugaya spit the name like a curse.

"YES!" Momo trilled. "He cared! When I came to him, he understood immediately what I had been put through! Aizen-taichou let me stay in his quarters to recover, while he and Gin went and disposed of the bodies. Nobody ever knew what became of them. There were rumors, like they tried to fight Hollows and got killed, or they just dropped out. But it was our secret, him and me…"

"Aizen used you. Momo, he nearly _killed _you!"

Momo swung around on him. "NO! He nearly killed _you! _My injury wouldn't have been enough, he would have sent someone back for me if Unohana hadn't come along right then! He would never do anything to really hurt me!"

_What are you doing?_

I'm trying to reach her.

"He already did," the imprisoned captain continued, cool as snow in the face of her burning rage. "He took advantage of you when you were vulnerable, and used that to make you dependent on him. How is that any different from what those punks would have done, if you had allowed them to?"

"You shut UP!" she spit, and kicked him again. It was intended for his face, but the blow proved so wild it missed and connected with his shoulder, allowing him to continue talking.

"Actually, what he did was worse! Because this time, you didn't fight back, did you, Momo? You just sat quietly and let him do whatever he wanted with you, because now you really were what they thought you were: scared and weak!"

"SHUT UP!" A sweep of her sword, one that would have scalped him had it connected, but apparently she still couldn't aim properly.

"One bad experience, one horrible day, and you crumbled just like that?" Hitsugaya shouted. "Did it never occur to you that you had other options? You could have…!"

She dropped down, grabbed his hair in one fist and screamed into his face.

"IT WASN'T JUST ONE!"

That brought him up short.

"You think that was the only TIME?" Momo gabbled. "I've killed PLENTY! After that first one, Tobiume helped me to understand just how much I HATED some people! They treated me like dirt! None of them, absolutely NONE OF THEM had a right to insult me, but that's what they did! Not listening to me when I spoke, ignoring me, brushing aside my ideas? I didn't care who it was! One of my superiors in the Fifth tried to intrude on my fight with a Hollow because he thought I couldn't handle it, and almost got me killed! He laughed about it afterwards, but he wasn't laughing when I put my sword in his gut! And once when I gave a lecture at the academy, a student got his fingers blown off for something that _wasn't my fault, _and do you know what he did? He _spit in my FACE!_ And afterwards his family threatened to bring me up on charges for letting it happen! So you know what _I_ did? I went to his home in the night and STRANGLED THE LIFE OUT OF HIM! Then I hung him up by a rope so that it looked like a suicide!"

She gave his head a vicious shake then, causing Hitsugaya's eyes to water.

"So I'm Aizen's _puppet? _I don't know what I'm doing, helpless little Momo, completely dependent on him to decide everything for me? WELL, GUESS WHAT, SHIRO-KUN? I actually _was_ thinking about disobeying him! You're the only captain he wanted dead for sure, but I thought maybe if I just crippled you like the others, he might let you live. But now, I don't think that's going to be enough! NOW I'LL JUST HAVE TO SHOW YOU…!"

There came a rush of wind, accompanied by the flapping of a pair of wings, and an almost indescribable reiatsu over it all.

Momo sprang up and whirled about, clasping her soul cutter in both hands.

Down the way, at the door leading outside, the Hollows were clamoring over one another, rushing to escape from something the shinigami couldn't see. After a few seconds, the mob of monsters parted, and down the length of their numbers could be seen a figure silhouetted against the light.

It proceeded to traipse slowly down that corridor of shivering, whimpering brutes. Several of them simply disintegrated from being in its presence, while the remainder promptly scattered back outside as soon as it passed. The creature was in the shape of a man, but with wings and horns. All black and white, naked, it still projected a fearsome aura that would have been enough to rob Hitsugaya of his confidence even if he weren't held to the ground by a treacherous spell.

He could hear someone crying. It dawned upon him that he was most likely in the presence of a real _vasto lorde_. No tricks this time.

And then a flat, dead voice said, "What are you doing?"

Even with her back to him now, Tōshirō could tell that Momo was still upset. Hopefully not enough to provoke this obscenity, or they might both wind up dead.

"None of your business what I'm doing, _Espada!"_ she retorted.

Great. Now it's going to eat us.

"Why are you still out here, anyway? Aizen-taichou wanted all of you with him when he opened the Gate."

"Things have not gone according to plan," the demon responded, unperturbed by her bile. "Aizen-sama ordered us to report here. He and the others are already inside."

"Answer my question!" Momo spit. "Why are you out here?"

The Hollow stared at her.

Then his tail twitched forward, and from behind the shield of his wings, there suddenly appeared Orihime Inoue, dangling like a worm on a hook.

"I had to move slowly. My cargo is fragile."

The former _ryoka_ was dressed in a white uniform similar to those of the _Espada _he had seen, but by the way she was being treated and the clear misery on her face, Hitsugaya had no doubt that the suspicion she had gone to their side of her own free will had been completely untrue.

"If you will excuse us now," her captor droned in an imitation of courtesy, "we are expected inside."

He stalked forward, and Momo remained where she was, sword at the ready. Whether ally or no, apparently there was no surplus of trust in her heart.

As he came abreast of them, the Hollow abruptly stopped.

A single pitch-black eye swiveled to regard them both.

"I am well aware of my orders, as you should be, shinigami. If you seek to disobey Aizen-sama's wishes, understand there will be nothing that can save your life."

Hoisting Inoue at his back, Ulquiorra Schiffer then proceeded into the depths of the First division barracks, following the call of his cohorts and their master.

When he had finally disappeared from sight, only then did Momo seem to relax. Hitsugaya watched her with something akin to pity.

"Is _that_ what you think will make the world a better place, Hinamori?"

She looked down at her captive. All the anger had fled, and in its place was only a grievous weariness.

"You… don't care what I think, Tōshirō-kun. But it doesn't matter. What's one more ghost hanging around me? I'm used to it now."

* * *

Ichigo was having a hard time just distinguishing anything that made sense.

There was Byakuya, standing protectively over a fallen Rukia. That scene wasn't too far off from what he might accept as normal. She didn't look dead, so there was no need to lapse into a fit of psychotic rage. Yet. And Kaname Tosen had just entered the room and was proceeding toward them with his sword drawn. Also totally predictable.

On the other hand, Unohana Retsu peacefully smoking a pipe while sitting not two feet away from Aizen Sōsuke?

That was as far from normal as you could get.

The chamber in which he now found himself in was roughly half the size of a football field, and completely bare of any accommodations that might draw one's attention. This only made the storm gathering in the ceiling even more eye-catching. At its center was a deep black… disturbance, you could say, which might have been expanding, he couldn't tell. Far more arresting than this, though, was the remainder of the people in the room. Two of them, the female animal menagerie and the headless horseman, were putting out so much Hollow energy that they might as well have _'vasto lorde' _written on their foreheads. It was similar to what he had sensed from Ulquiorra after his _resurrección, _which would make these _Espada _Numbers 1 through…

Well, that body twitching in a pool of slime in front of Unohana might be the third remaining one, he couldn't tell. There was something familiar about it, but as usual, his phenomenal ability to forget peoples' faces five seconds after meeting them was roaring along as smoothly as ever. Thank heaven for a little bit of normalcy.

I think it's safe to say that we're at the inner sanctum for villains, huh, guys?

As he had feared, there still came no response, from Zangetsu or his counterpart.

Looks like I'm on my own for now.

"Kurosaki-kun. Hello." Unohana set down her pipe and settled her chin in her hand, gazing at them intently. "And Ayasegawa-san. To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I'm officially throwing my hat into the ring!" The charming rogue wagged his head in her direction.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but even from his position strung up like a piece of laundry, Ichigo got the impression that no one had been expecting them to pop up here. Himself, or Yumichika.

A bright glow still lighting up his eyes, Yumichika peered curiously about the space and commented, "Why don't I see Ichimaru-taichou anywhere?"

Tosen came to a halt several paces away, adopting a distinctly aggressive pose.

"What are you doing here?"

Behind him, Unohana floated to her feet. "Kaname-san? Is something amiss?"

The grim-faced guardian kept his attention trained on the pair of fighters. "Yumichika Ayasegawa is not one of ours. He was never even brought up as a potential candidate. His presence here can only be some manner of feeble deception."

Hope blossomed in Kurosaki's heart. Was that true? Could this all be a diversion, a trick somehow, and Ayasegawa was actually setting them all up? Was a gang of captain-class fighters going to come tearing in now that everyone was distracted and mop the floor with these turkeys?

"Wait just a moment, Tosen."

This came from Aizen, who was studying that gaily-dressed figure with an air of interest. After a while, he cocked his head and said, "Yumichika-san, might you be Gin's man from the Eleventh that he was always referring to?"

"That would indeed be me!" he trumpeted gaily. "I am his sleeper, a sleeping beauty, as it were!" Ayasegawa dropped his arms and planted his hands on his hips, looking all about him once again. "But shouldn't Pscyho-taichou be here himself to confirm this?"

"Unfortunately, Gin cannot be with us at this time. It has been suggested that he was disposed of," a brief, amused look in Byakuya's direction, "by none other than Rukia Kuchiki."

"What? Rukia-chan _killed _Ichimaru?"

Yumichika blinked in shock. Then his face split into a joyous smile. "How wonderful for her! You know she always hated him. Ah, but I knew she had greatness in her! It must have been such a thrill! What an absolutely lovely finale to their relationship!"

Aizen's other rebel captain seemed to be having a hard time accepting any of this. "I never heard anything about a recruit from the Eleventh. We tried, but they were all just too devoted! That's why we chose Hisagi as the one to match Zaraki! Where do _you _fit in?" He leveled an accusatory finger at Yumichika.

"I don't, that's the problem."

"Tosen…"

He turned about in response. "Ai… Takui… Sir, what is going on?"

His leader came strolling over to join him. "Try to understand, my friend. Gin is a very private person. I never begrudge him his secrets, because I know where his heart truly lies. The same way I do for you. That's why I didn't pry when he mentioned that he had found someone who could serve as a back-up in case any of our seeds failed to bring down their target. He seemed quite certain of the man's capabilities…"

Aizen lifted his chin to meet Ichigo's eyes. "And now we see why."

"But, Aizen-sama… if you weren't aware of him, how did you cast the memory charm upon him?"

"I didn't."

Kaname's mouth opened on a quick intake of breath. His head jerked slightly in the direction of Unohana, who lowered her eyes demurely.

"No, Kaname-san, it wasn't me. I was as unaware of this revelation as you."

"I never had any spell put on me. Didn't your mother tell you it's dangerous to accept drinks from strange men?" Yumichika flung back his head, brushing pumiced fingers through his luxuriously-maintained hair. "Well, if you really must know…"

* * *

On a beautiful autumn day right around dusk, Byakuya Kuchiki stood on a second-story lane talking to some members of his court, while his sister Rukia hovered a respectful distance behind him.

Hidden in the shadow of an archway across the courtyard, Gin was toying with the notion of firing Shinsō and decapitating them both in one stroke.

The eager apparition found himself curious as to which head would strike the boardwalk first. Who would start the screaming, man or woman? Would they bother to clean the blood off that precious scarf Byakuya wore everywhere, or would it simply be consigned to the waste bin? So many questions that could arise from a simple application of his natural talents. In a way, the frenzy and terror that always followed after was more delicious to him than the act itself. It was, without a doubt, the reaction that made his mouth water. And in spite of what it would assuredly cost him, he found himself reaching down to squeeze his soul cutter's hilt.

_You're scared to._

Pipe down.

_He'll kill you. They all will. _

Just let me savor the moment, would you?

_Savor THIS moment. You, trapped, cornered, like a rat brought to bay, they'd be all around you, attacking from every direction…_

All right, I get it, I won't do it. Now can we please…?

_The first attack gets in, and you don't even realize it until you feel the blood flowing down your arm, but when you hesitate that split second to take a look…_

Damn you, shut UP! I said I wouldn't do it!

..._a sword takes off your leg, and you're screaming, before you realize it you're on the ground and they're all around you, swinging and chopping, gleefully stabbing you over and over again, as you squeal and beg you can see the light in their eyes…_

SHUT UP!

…_because THEY'VE been dreaming about doing that to YOU for so long, Gin! Go ahead, give them an excuse! Matsumoto might even try to save you…_

…don't…

…_and they wouldn't be able to stop themselves, they'd KILL HER TOO!_

He let go of the sword, flexing fingers that had gone stiff while he gripped it.

You're a miserable bastard.

_So are you._

"OI! RUKIA-CHAN!"

Gin blinked, and across the way, his little pet gave a start.

"RUKIA-CHAN! Down here!"

She was trying hard not to notice, standing stiff and proper in her brother's shadow. But Gin was under no such gentile considerations, so he crept forward under cover of his shroud and looked down.

There appeared to be a small detachment of fighters from the Eleventh passing down the lane, easily recognizable by the outrageous hairstyles they all boasted. They trooped on by, laughing and carousing roughly.

"I know you hear me! Take a look at the parasol I picked up for you!"

Enthusiastically waving around that selfsame implement was a death god with a bob-cut and orange body armor. It only took him a moment to recognize this figure. He had seen the man often enough, one of the regular observers from the Kenpachi's squad during their frequent duels. If he recalled correctly, this was the Fourth seat from that crew, or maybe the Fifth. His name was…

_Yumichika Ayasegawa._

I would have gotten it.

Dear Rukia was now quite upset. He could see the anxious looks she was darting towards His Lordship's imposing back, clearly dreading the prospect of him taking note of this display. Briefly she turned her head and mouthed, 'Go away!'

"Come now, I want your opinion on the design!" Yumichika shouted teasingly. "There's some Hollow blood on it, but that'll wash right out! OI! Rukia-chan!"

A furious teeth-baring glare, a violent sweep of her arm that obviously said, 'GET LOST!', and then she was back to standing still and proper as a gardenia on the vine.

"Rukia-chaaaaan! Don't make me come up there!"

Gin could swear he saw a vein pulsing in the girl's temple.

"RU-! KI-! A-!"

At that moment…

"CHA-!"

Byakuya Kuchiki's head started to rotate in the direction of that disturbance.

In an instant Rukia had vaulted over the railing, dropped down to the ground, raced over and punched her caller right in the gut. When he doubled over, she grabbed hold of his robe and dragged the unfortunate soul off into an alley.

When nothing further attracted his attention, the Division Six captain went back to his discussion.

Meanwhile, his counterpart from the Third was finding it hard not to burst into a fit of shrieking laughter at the sight he was witnessing. That member of the battle-hardened combat division, warrior extraordinaire, was down on his knees while a puny little wisp of a shinigami stood before him with her fists bunched in his shirt, shaking him back and forth until his teeth must be rattling around in his head.

When she stopped, it was to find Yumichika chuckling merrily.

Rukia threw him against the wall, put her hands on her hips and started to berate him as harshly as possible without raising her voice.

In response, the grinning gallant simply offered up the parasol once again, never losing his smile.

The princess just stared at him, before drooping her head in defeat.

Yumichika bounded happily to his feet. Opening up the accessory, he took one of her hands, slipped it around the hilt of the umbrella, and settled the haft against her shoulder. Then he stepped back and appeared to be admiring her, slumped over as she was. Her neck lifted to regard him, and he promptly put a hand to his heart and swooned in an overly theatrical manner while yammering away.

At that point, Rukia did something astonishing.

She smiled.

By then, Gin had slid down to be on the same level as them, so he got a good view of that act. Had General Yamamoto come bounding down the street stark naked scattering flowers in his wake, he could not have been more surprised. It occurred to the unobtrusive overseer then that this might well be the first time he had ever seen Rukia happy. Certainly on none of the occasions he was close to hand had she worn such a joyous expression. It was hard to say how that made him feel.

_Ashamed?_

Screw that. I never wanted her to be happy.

_What, then?_

You know. She belongs to me. I decide what she should be in life.

_I know who you belong to._

Yeah? Well, I guess nobody really owns themselves around here. That's what I'm trying to change.

_Just don't die, or your lady will be sad._

I can take care of my own heart, thank you.

_It's hers I'm worried about._

He noticed then that Rukia was bowing to her admirer, who returned the gesture, albeit in a more flamboyant manner. Then the black butterfly leapt straight back onto the catwalk and flashed over to rejoin her brother, who took as little notice of her return as he had her absence. She stood there, twirling her new gift, but stopped after a bit, probably because she realized it looked undignified.

Yumichika stepped back out into the sunlight and went off in pursuit of his fellow professional soldiers. When he passed beneath her, Gin didn't fail to notice the way she followed the pretty-boy with her eyes.

Maybe I ought to look into this…

He proceeded to do so. Ichimaru investigated that man, who turned out to be the Fifth seat, but by choice rather than merit. He consulted the official reports without anyone being the wiser. And after learning all that he could from secondary sources, then it became time to find out things for himself. Using his unique form of camouflage, the captain tagged along with Ayasegawa and his cohorts. Several of the training bouts with Rukia had an extra observer that even the Kuchiki spies didn't notice. And on more than one mission, there was a tagalong who never strayed far from where Yumichika could be found.

In this way, Gin eventually came to realize a few things about this person that most who had known him for years might not have picked up on.

The title of Fifth seat was apparently just for show. Ayasegawa was undoubtedly one of the most talented fighters to be found in a division famous for its martial prowess. He was gregarious, but had few friends. In his own division, he was openly a mystery, leaving many people scratching their heads and wondering just what such a person was doing in the bloodthirsty misfit brigade. On top of that, the fear those sword-swinging gorillas felt for Yumichika was something of a legend, right up there with captains like Zaraki and Unohana. He had supposedly killed several other shinigami in his first few years on the job, a surprising revelation, considering that sort of thing could usually land you in trouble unless you were chest-deep in money or privilege, which the former alley-dweller was certainly not.

To learn more about this affair and its resolution, Gin decided to forego clandestine maneuvers and talk to someone he could rely on to tell him the truth.

"So lemme ask ya somethin', Lieutenant," Ichimaru spoke while refilling her drink. "What's the deal with yer Fifth seat, anyway?"

"Shiny?" Yachiru Kusajishi reached over the lip of the roadside noodle stand and gripped her cup of juice. She drained it in one gulp, then held it out, indicating Gin should continue to pour, which he did. "Well, he smells like flowers, and he tastes like soap, and he taught me how to dance! You wanna see?"

"Sure, why not?"

The infant warrior blinked big fuschia eyes at him, and then scrunched up her face in what might have been childish embarrassment. "Nope, I'm not gonna show you!"

"Fair enough." Their order came then, noodles for him, a pile of sakura-mochi for her. People passing them on the street might be shocked to see a captain conversing with a child in the middle of the Rukongai, but this was nothing new. Gin's relationship with the top two members of Squad Eleven was probably the most stable and honest one he could claim. Even Aizen didn't come close. Perhaps it was because they were completely forthright in what they expected from Ichimaru. Yachiru wanted to play with him, and Kenpachi Zaraki wanted to fight and possibly kill him. It wasn't anything personal. The ogre from the Eightieth Ring would do the same for anybody, with the exception of his diminutive cohort. While Gin had no intention of fulfilling the last part of the captain's wish, the fact that Zaraki freely admitted his bloodlust without reservation meant that he didn't have to wonder if that thought was lurking in the back of the man's mind the way he did virtually everybody else. He _knew _Kenpachi wanted him dead. There wasn't a reason behind it that made sense, so the only thing he had to do was make sure that didn't happen. They would fight when it was agreeable for both of them. Zaraki could never kill him, so he never killed Zaraki. And thus the relationship continued. Even should the psychopathic brute learn Ichimaru was a traitor, it probably wouldn't negatively impact his impression of him at all.

Kind of nice to rely on that.

As for Kusajishi, she was one of only a handful of people who had absolutely no fear of Ichimaru one way or another. A little more unnerving than her father-figure, because he really had no clear conception of what she might be thinking at any given time. But if you really wanted to know, all you had to do was ask. The kid was mercilessly open, such that it made you feel ashamed to lie to her. Therefore, he didn't. At least not directly. Besides, he liked her. And her parent.

He'd kill them both if it came down to it, but he wouldn't like himself afterwards.

As the voracious little carnivore fell to, Gin casually continued their conversation.

"So, this Shiny Ayasegawa… he really kill a couple dozen of yer boys throughout the years?"

"Um-huhm." Her cheeks had the storage capacity of a chipmunk, which tended to limit vocabulary sometimes. But he had long experience with this, so he knew that was agreement.

"How come he never got brought up on charges fer doing it?"

Yachiru swallowed. "Kenny wouldn't let 'em! The dead guys were making fun of Shiny. They wanted to boss him around. He did it right, an' let 'em go for their swords first. Everybody said so! So there wasn't a problem. 'Clean kill, no reports!' That's what Kenny said."

"Well, yeah, things like this have been known to happen," her meal-ticket confided while slurping up his dinner. "But even a captain isn't supposed to go around choppin' up the underlings. I kill anybody, they bury me in paperwork for a week. S'why they used to call me Cap'n Paper-Cut." He wiggled his fingers, and the petite pirate giggled at the joke like only she could. "Still, this pretty puppy was wracking up two or three kills a month for a while. I take it folks finally wised up about pushing him around?"

She jumped atop her stool authoritatively and raised three digits before his nose. "Rule #3: 'Never punch Yumch'ka A'sgwa in the face. He'll kill ya'!"

The fox-demon smiled at her through those sticky pink digits. "No shit."

"AAHHH!" the child squeaked and dropped back down, covering her ears, grinning to match his own. "Happy said a bad word! Kenny _won't_ be happy when he finds out!"

"Well, maybe yer mouth will be too full to tell him, neh?" Gin then produced a bag of cinnamon candies from inside his sleeve. Yachiru didn't hesitate, snatching them up in an instant and beaming at him while she bounced up and down.

"Candy makes Yachiru happy, YAAY!"

They continued their meal on more sociable topics.

Five nights later, Yumichika Ayasegawa was walking home by himself after a late training session with Rukia, when Gin moved into step beside him.

"Mind if I join ya?"

Startled, the perfumed pugilist had his sword halfway from its scabbard before he realized who was speaking to him.

When he recognized Gin, the blade came out completely as he stepped into a fighting stance.

"You wouldn't be looking for someone to play with tonight by any chance, Ichimaru-taichou?"

"Nope," he responded while continuing on his way. "Just wanted to have a chat."

Apparently the penalty for drawing on a captain held no fear for Ayasegawa, for he declined to sheathe his sword or follow along. "An ugly notion. And I just happened to be nearby when this impulse came upon you?"

The silver head turned. Creepy smiles were his business, and the one he chose to display now had never failed to unnerve his target.

This time proved no different, as Yumichika's face went a shade of pale without losing any of its firm resolve.

"Where do ye see yerself a hundred years from now?"

The effeminate fighter licked his lips. "What is this, a job interview?"

"Kinda." He turned around fully. "Personally, I don't see ya where you are now. Can't make any guesses as to where you'll wind up, but… nah, definitely not in the Eleventh!"

Yumichika made no response to that, but the apprehension around his mouth told how close that hook had come to catching.

"You been watchin' me and Zaraki go at it for years, right? Yer a smart guy. Do I strike you as the sort of person who can keep secrets?"

Faint hesitation. Then, "I suppose. When it suits you."

"Well, you oughtta know. To be honest, I've had my eye on you for a little while now. Ever since I caught you and Rukia-chan going at it together."

Ooo, now that was interesting. Of a sudden, all the fear went away.

Now what stood before him was a vicious killer.

_She's dangerous. Don't let her touch you._

Got it. Whatever that means…

"If I were to kill you now, Taichou, do you still think my future would be so bleak?"

It sounded like he actually meant that. Just what kind of person has Zaraki been letting run loose all these years?

"Not only that. You wouldn't have to wait a hundred years for it, even. It'd be here today."

Yumichika shrugged. "No one need ever find out. If you were to disappear, I doubt anyone would come snooping around to any great extent."

"You might be surprised." Gin crossed his arms, keeping his eyes barely open and his smirk firmly in place. "There's all kinds o' stuff going on in the Seireitei that folks ain't aware of. Covering up secrets is practically our second job around here, eh?"

The moon was rising above the horizon, while in the other direction the sun was just beginning to set. Shadows of the trees drew long around them, and a chill was settling into their skins.

In that gathering twilight, he could have sworn there was a green glint in the other fighter's eyes.

The polished blade gleamed in Ayasegawa's hands, and he spoke softly. "Why don't you explain just what you want from me, Gin Ichimaru?"

"I want us to be friends!"

Those blazing orbs narrowed. "I have enough of those. And I'm already friends with an enemy of yours. You're nowhere near as pretty as she is, so I don't see us hitting it off."

Oh, yeah. This one was definitely worth trying out.

"You like to play yer cards close to the vest. That's good! Truth be told, I'm kinda going out on a limb here. If it don't work out, yours truly might wind up swinging in the wind. Ya like mixing metaphors?"

"No."

"Well, how do ya like knowing you can't get everything you want?"

"Do you ever speak directly with anyone?"

"How's yer love life these days?"

"_Split and Deviate-!"_

Unlike Ayasegawa, Gin didn't have to speak. He simply withdrew Shinsō and sent it sliding straight into the other man's chest before he could complete the command. Blood burst from the Fifth seat's mouth.

Along with two words.

"_Ruri'iro Kujaku!"_

Green tendrils suddenly streaked for him. Gin saw them coming, and was about to slip away, when there came a jerk on his sword-arm. To no great surprise, Yumichika had clamped a fist around Shinsō's blade in an effort to capture it in his body. Normally this wouldn't have posed a problem in withdrawing it, but in addition to this, a set of glowing yellow chains had emerged from the hole in his orange armor where those leather straps normally connected, now pulled out to dangle freely from his wrist. They wound around the glowing white shikai, holding it in place.

Sleeping kidō, the captain realized angrily. But before he could respond with a spell of his own, the emerald tendrils wound around his waist and limbs.

"Cast that… every morning. Little trick I picked up from... Rukia-chan!" Ayasegawa gasped. "Fitting, don't you think?"

What came next felt as if he were being wrung dry of energy. It was like being in ban-kai to the tenth power, all your reserves being burned up faster than you could naturally replenish them. At this rate, he would be drained completely in just under a minute.

_Gin, don't struggle! It just makes it go faster!_

Relax. I was expecting something like this.

"I knew you were hiding something," Ichimaru cackled from within his spectral prison. Shinsō was still embedded in the Fifth seat's chest, and he attempted to drag the blade down slightly, but found his body quite unable to move.

"Take it to your grave!" Ayasegawa gasped, spitting blood further and flashing a look filled with triumph and pain.

"I got better things to do." And so saying, Gin whipped out his trump card, pulling the shadow of his dead Hollow power over him. His eyes turned blue.

It worked. While the bonds still held him and continued to gobble up his energy, a slight bit of strength returned to his arm, the remnant of his past life apparently operating on a different spiritual level, enough to sidestep the zanpakutō that was feasting upon the majority of his shinigami power. This granted the revenant spirit the fortitude to push down on his sword, slicing through the chains and digging deeper into Ayasegawa's chest.

When Yumichika's eyes flared wide with agony and disbelief, Gin knew that the tide of battle had shifted in his favor.

"Your heart's about to be split." Though a terrible paralysis was still working its way through most of his body, his mouth still worked just fine. "But let's hold off on that for a sec. I got a proposal for you, beauty queen."

In spite of the state of his body, the cocky fighter threw back a grin. "I don't accept proposals from… gruesome men. And the two of us found… dead together in the morning… still makes for a beautiful homage."

At this, the vampiric vines started blooming along their length, and Gin's life-force began to escape even faster.

To his disgrace, the paralysis didn't prevent him from trembling.

Dammit. How do you convince someone to help you when they're not afraid to die?

"They're gonna kill Rukia!"

At Gin's shout, both of their imminent deaths paused.

"What… did you say?"

"It's all set." His neck drooped, a lethargy akin to freezing to death making his body feel unnaturally heavy. "The ones I'm working with… they're turnin' her into an assassin. Once she does the job, they're gonna cut 'er loose to dangle. She'll die then, make no mistake."

A pair of green flames burned in the deepening dusk before him. "And next I suppose you'll tell me… my letting you live… will prevent that?"

"Nah," Gin chuckled. "But your dying here certainly ain't gonna make her any safer, now, will it?"

They stared at one another.

"What are you proposing… Ichimaru-san?

He smiled, to himself more than anyone else now.

"We both live through the next few minutes. And you listen to what I got ta say."

Yumichika didn't look any more impressed with the prospect now than earlier, but he said only, "Talk."

"I'll make it simple. We're aimin' to bring down heaven. Crush the controllers and change the way the shinigami work. It'll mean fighting against the captains, and even the ones over them. That means a battle like you've never even imagined. How'dja like to be a part of that?"

"An unlovely act, betrayal… What's the appeal for me?"

Apparently this discussion warranted getting a little more serious.

"You tell me. I'm doin' it because I hate living like this, in a world that don't give two licks about whether or not I come back alive from battle, so long as there's a replacement handy. I've been a shinigami for over half a century, and you know something? I ain't never once felt safe behind these walls."

Yumichika's voice was devoid of sympathy. "That's your reason, not mine."

"C'mon, Yumichika-san. Things ain't gonna get no better for you, and that's a fact. Sooner or later, the ice you been tap-dancin' on is gonna break. You can't keep your secrets forever. You might be willing ta die for 'em, but trust me, there's plenty other folks who think everybody else can die '_cept_ for them, cuz that's the way God wants it."

"Aren't you one of them?" Yumichika shot back.

He paused.

_Well? _

What?

_Answer._

…Fine.

"No."

Ichimaru did something then that meant a lot to him.

He opened his eyes, and stopped smiling.

"I ain't that way. I got someone I'd die to protect."

Across the way, the secretive swordsman was staring at him like he had just started spitting hell butterflies. His tongue seemed to have failed him, so Gin pressed on.

"Take it from me, mister. Life is harsh, but turns out bein' dead don't change that. Just means you got longer to experience that same old shit. Folks like to talk about 'the way things work'. Problem is, it _don't _work. Not for everybody. Not even for the majority. And if any o' those fat cats find something they can hold over you, bet'cher ass they're gonna use it. Sooner or later, this rotten society ye been livin' in is gonna take away everything you really care about." He pitched his voice lower. "And everyone."

Fury caused that handsome face to suddenly go dark, but it wasn't directed at anyone present, because the leeching limbs still held off from their feast.

"So… what's your solution?"

That sounded promising. The smile came back. Gin peered at that angry visage from between closed eyelids once more.

You ready?

_Are you sure?_

Yeah. Do it.

And with that, Shinsō withdrew smoothly from Yumichika's flesh.

Still hanging in the web of death, he flipped the dagger one-handed and sent it back into its sheathe.

"Help me out. Help me bring down the royalty."

Ayasegawa stared.

And his eyes narrowed down to slits.

"Forgive me for saying this… but I think you're as great a threat to the ones I care about as anything, alive or dead."

Helpless, Gin waited to see if his gamble had paid off. It had dawned on him while learning Yumichika's history that they shared something in common: this was a guy who didn't give a crap about most people. He'd kill one of his compatriots over something as simple as a comment slighting his appearance. And a total stranger? They might as well already be dead. Loyalty to the established order didn't exist for this shinigami. He was only in it for himself and what the uniform could offer him in terms of his desires.

In spite of this, however, there were a few people that merited some of this egomaniac's consideration. And when it came to them, he was willing to sacrifice his own best interests for theirs. It certainly wasn't unlimited affection for all mankind, but the fact that he only cared about a handful of people made the strength of his devotion all that greater. Yumichika would face down Hell for their sakes, even if it meant he was damned as a result.

And his next words confirmed that impression.

"But… if things do start to look bad on your end, I think we've proven that I can still at least kill you."

And with that, Ruri'iro Kujaku unfurled from around his body. Gin came upright, feeling woozy, but definitely alive.

The tentacles went back into the blade. Before they did, though, Ayasegawa reached up and snagged some of the almost-bloomed petals. He popped one into his mouth, and a few seconds later, the wound in his chest had closed completely, allowing him to stand erect once more.

"So… that's what captain tastes like."

Skin glowing, hair gleaming, his potential associate leveled a dissatisfied look at Ichimaru.

"Well. I'm listening."

_To be continued…_


	29. The Broken Spell: Heaven's Blessing

Ichigo couldn't believe any of this, and Kaname Tosen seemed to be on the same page.

"That is preposterous." The brown-skinned samurai looked as aghast as Karin when their father suggested they all take family baths. "We're expected to believe that Ichimaru trusted _you _not to reveal our secrets?"

"Well, to be fair, he didn't really entrust me with that many secrets," Yumichika yawned. "He just let me know that he himself wasn't acting in the best intentions of Soul Society, which everybody always suspected about him anyway. Your names never came up. I was as surprised as everybody else when Captains Aizen and Tosen went maverick on us." He craned his head around the aforementioned men. "And I certainly didn't expect to encounter you here, Unohana-taichou."

"Naturally," she replied with a sweet smile, and went back to her leisure activities.

"And Kuchiki-taichou!" Yumichika beamed and waved vigorously at where Ichigo's old nemesis stood like a promise of death to anyone who approached him or his sister. "Hello, my lord! How's our Rukia-chan? I trust you're still taking care of her?"

Byakuya didn't respond aloud, but the look he shot this latest traitor seemed to confirm that Yumichika Ayasegawa was reserved a special seat in Hell, courtesy of the Kuchiki lord's blade.

"It's all right, Tosen." Aizen placed a hand on his bodyguard's shoulder. "This confirms what Ichimaru confided in me."

"Aizen-sama, why was I not informed of this?"

"Gin said he didn't want to risk exposure. All he was willing to admit was that this was a person from the Eleventh who was forced to hide, for fear the truth of their existence would ruin them, and that I would be able to tell by looking at them." He gave the feathered charmer a light perusal. "I think this certainly qualifies. So you see, even I knew only the bare minimum, but I took no offense from it. And neither should you."

Apparently that settled it, for Kaname sheathed his blade while the lord of Hollows stepped forward and extended his arm in a welcoming manner.

"I am pleased to welcome you to our venture, Ayasegawa-san. You bring…" and those merry chocolate eyes looked straight up at Ichigo, "…quite the interesting offering."

Kurosaki thought about spitting at the maniac, but in his current state found his mouth gone quite dry, whether from fear, spirit depletion, or being forced to swallow an unhealthy dosage of reiatsu. For the time being, he chose to emulate Byakuya's example and stay quiet.

Yumichika raised an eyebrow, then reached out and clasped the hand that was offered to him. "I strive to impress. And speaking of burdens…" He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "Where do you want this one?"

"Dump him wherever you like." The mastermind turned his back. "You seem to have him thoroughly incapacitated. We won't be here much longer, anyway."

"As you wish."

The next thing he knew, the shinigami substitute was deposited none too gently against the far wall, his imprisoning restraints detaching from their master's back and wrapping around his legs and arms. Once apart from Yumichika, they seemed to lose their luster, but in his present condition it wasn't even possible to move, much less tear free and go roaring into the fray.

So instead he watched them all. Sōsuke Aizen moved away with Tosen close behind, conversing in low voices, perhaps about him. Yumichika went strolling over to the blonde dragon-lady and started chatting with her, while she took to studying him openly while stroking the heads of her lion members. The one he thought of as 'Skeletor' didn't look interested in anything that had just taken place, while the Kuchiki siblings remained still as stone.

I'm not feeling so hot right now. Maybe I should just keep a low profile, see what I can scope out on my own. Maybe if I'm lucky…

Oh, hell.

You know something? If the last year proves anything, it's that me and luck don't see eye-to-eye. So maybe I should just jump in and see where the waters take me.

"Hey, you!"

They all turned to regard him, Hollow and shinigami alike.

For his part, the depleted mortal continued to stare hard at only one person.

Unohana Retsu.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

With her hands crossed in her lap, she gave him a flat stare devoid of interest, and then looked upwards at the ceiling once more. "I have no wish to repeat myself at this time, Master Kurosaki. The portal will open soon. Feel free to ask what you will of Captain Kuchiki once we have departed."

It was like being snubbed by a teacher who couldn't see past his looks. And that was exactly the sort of thing that a fifteen-year old didn't like to hear.

"Screw what _you_ want, lady! Who do you think you ARE?"

Things got real quiet after that.

It wasn't a matter of burgeoning reiatsu, outright violence, or even something as esoteric as killing-intent illusions. When she turned to regard him now, everyone in the room got a good look at a face that held nothing in the way of human kindness. Gone for good was the nurturing mother-figure they had seen on several occasions. Now it was as if Death itself had stolen upon them while they stood unawares.

Hey.

Come to think of it, something really does feel like death in here. And you know what?

I think I know him.

And so the forsaken hero broke off from his glaring match with the enchantress and looked over at one of the doors.

Sure enough, standing there was a true grim reaper, in the form of Ulquiorra Schiffer. Orihime was hoisted up at his back. Both of them were returning his stare, and it was hard to tell which of them looked more shocked. The _Cuarta Espada's _chalk-white face, combined with that wide-eyed expression, made it look as though he had seen a ghost. He stood unmoving, and behind him, his tail slowly sank to the floor, depositing Inoue who collapsed to her knees with tears pouring down her cheeks.

Those firmly-pressed black lips parted slightly. In the ensuing silence, they all heard him whisper, in a voice like something from beyond the grave.

"Impossible."

"Kurosaki-kun?"

She sounded like she couldn't believe he was alive. Considering the state Orihime had last seen him in, that came as no surprise. To reassure her, he gave a slight smile.

"Hey, Orihime-chan. Glad to see you're all right."

"Oh." Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. "Oh… I…" She looked at Ulquiorra, almost as if expecting him to confirm or deny what she was seeing. But from the way he looked, the archfiend was having some difficulty on that score himself.

And then none of that mattered anymore, for of a sudden the girl reached up and wrenched the limp black appendage from her throat, leapt to her feet and raced towards where he hung.

"KUROSAKI-KUN!" she screamed, the cry echoing throughout the chamber.

Something flashed across his vision, and Orihime stumbled into the arms of Unohana Retsu.

"My dearest Inoue-chan. Welcome!"

"LET ME G…!" Struggling at first, the gorgeous teen froze. She looked up in amazement at the graciously beaming face of the woman who held her. "Unohana-sama?"

"Yes." With that she began to lead the dumbfounded damsel away from the target of her affections, back towards her resting spot, speaking softly all the while. "I'm so pleased that you made it here in time, my child. There has been such a rush these past few hours, everything has gone by so fast, it seemed like a dream to me."

They passed Byakuya and the unconscious Rukia, whom Orihime gaped at in puzzlement. Coming upon Aizen and Tosen though, she stiffened, mouth hanging open in horror. Her guide did not relent, however, and proceeded to pull her down so that they were both reclining on the black velvet cushions. Clasping the bewildered redhead's hands in her own, Retsu brought them up and smiled at her over their conjoined fists.

"I know this must have been an absolutely terrible space of months for you, Inoue-chan. Faced with the prospect of death everyday, not only for you, but for your most cherished friends as well. I know where you are coming from, believe me. Being forced to hang back and wait for them to come home from battle, alive or dead, knowing that the difference might lie entirely in however much you can do to heal them. It is a terrible burden for one so young to labor under. But you have endured splendidly, haven't you, dearest? How strong you are! In many ways, I see myself in you, back when all this began."

"And now, look!" She spread one hand out to indicate their surroundings. "It is almost finished! We are coming upon the climax of this war. By day's end, there will be a resolution of our ancient grievances. After that, you need never fear any violence befalling your loved ones. They will be cared for, along with all those living on Earth and each and every soul that exists, whether lost or plus. Everyone will learn the meaning of paradise." One of those matchless healing hands came up to cup the girl's cheek. "From our new King."

Orihime looked over at Aizen, then down at their clasped fingers. Suddenly her eyes went wide. She looked about to jerk back, but Unohana held on. The shinigami lady's head fell, and Ichigo heard her give a brief laugh. Her back was turned to him, but he could still see her reach up and tug on the collar of her robe.

"Ah, me. You saw it as well. Rukia-chan looked much the same as you upon realizing it. How very distressing this must be for all of you, but imagine how I feel. Please, do not be alarmed. I assure you, there is nothing to fear from me. I am not so far gone as to pose a threat to those who do not offer me any. And you certainly do not represent a threat to anyone, do you, gentle soul?"

He couldn't see what it was they were referring to, but it hardly mattered. Ichigo was sickened by the look Orihime gave the woman, seeing as how it still held the deep respect for her that he himself still harbored traces of.

How in heaven's name had things gotten this bad so quickly?

"Unohana-sama," his schoolmate whispered weakly. "Please, what is going on?"

She looked ready to cry, and at this Retsu touched her face, calm immutable compassion seeming to exude from her every word.

"Do not cry. I am on your side, young one. Understand that from the moment I saw what you were capable of, I marked you for my protection. You mean so much to me, Inoue-chan. You are, in fact, my heart's-ease, the answer to all the doubts and worries I ever had in all my time devising the downfall of this miserable empire we have slaved under." The witch's fingers stroked her skin tenderly, and a shiver went up her frame. "It was like the fates themselves had guided you into my life, letting me see that there was a way for me to truly be free of every last lingering remnant of the abuse I had been saddled with. My heart soared when I realized what it meant, and I knew you would require my protection. That is why I placed my mark upon you."

"Do you remember? The day I came to visit you in your home? That is when I did it. Soifon insisted on being there, so I wasn't able to operate as well as I pleased. But ultimately, you actually took care of that problem yourself. Because of what she learned from you, Soifon was so eager to return home that she left before I did. And once we were alone, I cast the spell-sign on your body. " Unohana gave her cheek a fond caress. "Here. _This _is where I put it. Only Aizen would be able to see my handiwork. And once he did, he would have known that you were important to us, even if he couldn't remember why."

"That is the real reason you were brought to Hueco Mundo, Inoue-chan. For your protection! My brave Sōsuke intended for you to be out of harm's way, especially after some of his forces chose to aggressively act on their own and target the powerful souls in Karakura Town. Without fully understanding the reason, he concocted a delightful plan that would keep either Soul Society or even his own Hollow forces from suspecting that there might be a greater reason behind your kidnapping. The hōgyoku was never in danger of deteriorating, as you now know. Rather, the gem that needed our attention was you. Our goal in this affair has always been to protect life. We have what we wanted, the Key and the two gems. There has never been any threat to you. Do you see?"

Still caught in the captain's grip, Orihime blinked at her uncertainly. "But… what about Karakura Town?"

Aizen suddenly laughed. "Clever girl." He crossed over to them, and they all could see the way she cringed. But there was no escape for her, as the rebel leader knelt down and placed one strong hand over theirs. "You might have already guessed this by now, Orihime, but that whole business about destroying Karakura to create a copy of the Key? It was just another deception, like the one regarding you. Back before Rukia-chan's sham execution, you might have heard that I spent some time in the Great Spirit Library of the Central 46. That was where I knew could be found the information I needed to retrieve the hōgyoku from Rukia-chan without killing her."

The disbelieving look he gained for that comment only made Sōsuke smile. "It's true, my dear. The Ojousama was actually one of my accomplices, though she didn't remember it until just under an hour ago. The reason I let her sentence proceed in that respect was because I saw it as an opportunity to achieve something else I wanted: the destruction of the Sōkyoku executioner's halberd. That weapon was unbelievably powerful, and if it was turned against my forces during the upcoming war, it would have no doubt done a great deal of damage before it could be stopped. Only Captain Ukitake possessed a means by which it could be eradicated effectively, and I knew that if one of his subordinates were unjustly accused of a crime, his sense of obligation to those under his command would compel him to act in their defense. Even going so far as to challenge Yamamoto's authority by obliterating the Sōkyoku. Rukia-chan's involvement proved to be another example of divine providence acting on my behalf."

"But I digress," Aizen continued easily. "We were speaking about the Spirit Library. During my convalescence there, I did more than just research. I successfully altered certain historical documents, with the aim of misleading anyone who encountered them about the nature and makeup not only of the hōgyoku, but also the King's Key. Specifically, I insinuated research suggesting that Kisuke's creation could be used to fashion a facsimile of the Key, if provided with raw materials that equated to a certain amount of human souls in a given area. This fulfilled two objectives: one, it caused Soul Society to employ a large proportion of their time and energy to trying and safeguard those defenseless people from my wicked ambitions. And secondly, it caused them to believe that I had no interest in the original Key, which was also quite far from the truth."

"What?" Inoue gasped. "You mean… you _never _wanted to destroy Karakura?"

"Of course not," he declared somewhat scornfully. "The hōgyoku can't create a Key no matter how many towns I obliterate. It was designed only to bridge the gap between shinigami and Hollow, and nothing more! The idea that it was some kind of multi-purpose tool, a magic lamp that could grant any wish a nefarious soul like me needed, was just born from Soul Society's ignorance regarding its nature. And truth be told, there's nothing particularly special about your hometown. It isn't even the Spirit Nexus the way you were no doubt told. I just altered the data while I was in the archives so that afterwards, Soul Society would come to that false conclusion. Didn't it seem a little too coincidental that the place I needed to conquer just happened to be your hometown? I chose that area because it was the spot where Rukia-chan disappeared and Urahara was finally located. It had a large population, which would have made it highly difficult for them to safeguard. And those are really the only reasons. It was just a whim on my part, really. I have something of a dramatic streak, I must admit."

"Sōsuke, you're confusing the poor child," Unohana said, giving him a pat on the arm. "Give me some time with her, there is something she and I must discuss."

"Of course." And he bestowed Orihime with another smile, before rising and backing away.

She wasn't the only one who was feeling overwhelmed. Ichigo was honestly starting to believe that nothing he had been told since becoming a shinigami was true. How deep did the lies extend, anyway? Why couldn't he contact his inner Hollow? For that matter, when the hell were the good guys going to show up? Whatever happened to Yamamoto, and Kyōraku? Hell, he wouldn't even complain if Mayuri Kurotsuchi were to come prancing in sometime in the next five minutes. Did something happen that he wasn't aware of? How many of the other captains were in on this, anyway? Considering how relaxed all these maniacs seemed, maybe all of them, but that just made no sense.

He had never wished more to hear Zangetsu's quiet, steely rumble providing him with an explanation. But apparently that wasn't going to happen.

Instead, all he heard was the voice of a treacherous witch.

"Inoue-chan," Retsu proceeded affectionately. "My bane-breaker. There is something only you can do for me."

Orihime looked like she might follow Rukia's example and pass out, but she still managed to remain upright.

"What?"

"I want you to heal me."

"Heal… _you?"_

Her eyes drifted down to Unohana's chest for some reason, and the healer quickly spoke up in response to her apparent assumption.

"No, not this. For that, I will want the hōgyoku. We had actually planned to retrieve the King's Key ourselves and open the gate at our leisure. That would have given me all the time I needed to deal with my… affliction. But necessity requires that I hold off on that blessing. The power of the hōgyoku is not fully known to me. Apparently the length of time involved in the procedure varies, so that the subject might come out of it in a few seconds or more than a day. I can't afford to be out of commission for any extended period. Not with the enemy we are about to face. I must be at my peak." She gave a heartfelt sigh. "And that is where you come in."

The captain of the healing division rose up then, and her captive followed. She turned about so that Ichigo could finally see her clearly. There was a look of peace on that fair face that left him feeling frightened for Orihime's sake. Just what new horrors were about to be committed right before his eyes?

"I must be at my peak," Unohana repeated, closing her eyes and speaking in a very soft, controlled manner. "I know the limits my soul can achieve, and I must have everything available to me for what comes next. There must be no… blind spots. No weakness that the enemy can exploit. And so you must heal me, Orihime Inoue."

As she spoke, one of her hands came up.

"I don't… understand…" The girl sounded so terrified, and Ichigo wished desperately he could race to her defense and stop whatever was about to happen.

But all he could do was watch. They all did. The _vasto lorde_, the shinigami both virtuous and profane, and the representatives of humanity.

They watched, and Orihime began to scream, as Unohana reached up and removed her own left eye.

It was truly sickening somehow, watching that dark blue orb emerge from its socket. The eyelid looked shriveled and false for a moment, before sliding up to reveal the empty hollow in that beautiful face. It wasn't the blackness of a Hollow's, you could see the bone inside, a clean space. Even having guessed something along these lines earlier, it still came as a shock to Ichigo. Several others looked equally disturbed. Yumichika appeared ill, like he couldn't bear to see such a lovely woman sporting so obvious a blemish. Byakuya had gone stiff, and a strangely pained expression was working its way over his face, almost as if he was commiserating with her.

Aizen, on the other hand, was angry for a change. It was the first time Kurosaki had ever seen an emotion in those handsome features that didn't correspond to arrogant villainy or depraved indifference to life. The impression reached him that whoever was responsible for this, Aizen was hoping to find them and pluck out both their eyes in recompense.

Kaname was blind, so he didn't react at all. The _Espada _were much the same, probably because they didn't care. Ulquiorra, in fact, hadn't taken his attention off Ichigo for a second since he came in, a fact that was starting to make his enemy feel rather uncomfortable in its own right.

The false eye fell to the floor then, rolling round and around. And the one-eyed woman spoke.

"Give it back. Return what he took from me. My earthly angel, sent to grant justice for the crime that was done ages past. Give me the restoration that only you can."

Caught in her grip, Inoue was crying hysterically now. "No," she sobbed. "This is… I'm not going to heal you, you lied to me… You lied to everyone! I don't know you, you're not what I thought, oh mother, I can't…!"

"Now," Unohana commanded, looming over her as the girl shrank in upon herself. They were of the same height, but right then the false captain resembled a giant in the way she towered above that stricken orphan. "You will heal me _now."_

"No…"

"NOW!"

Don't do it, Ichigo begged silently. Please, Orihime, don't give her what she wants. I can't pretend to know what you're feeling, but by all that's holy, don't make that monster any stronger than she already is. Fight her, fight back! She can't force you to do it, she can't, nobody can, you're…!

"**NOW!"**

It sounded almost like a Hollow's roar. And with a wail, the pins on that gentle girl's temples glowed, sending her magic familiars streaking up to hover around Retsu's scalp. Surrounded in a sudden nimbus of unnatural light, that hideous face stared down at her, mouth in a tight line, muscles quivering, single eye blazing madly.

And then from out of nowhere, its mate began to take shape beside it.

They all watched as the depression in Unohana's skull was filled in, growing in response to the rejection of its previous state. Iris, cornea, vitreous humor, all. It just emerged exactly where it belonged.

In a few seconds, the glow faded, the fairies returning to their fount.

Unohana blinked. She stood upright, eyelids flickering rapidly.

Two eyes of the exact same color peered out at them all.

"Oh," she murmured, letting go of Orihime so that the spent maiden fell to the floor, senseless. "So much… yes!" The restored soul spun about, taking in everything around her. She swayed suddenly, as though her balance was off, and immediately Aizen streaked in to catch her. One of his hands grasped her wrist, while the other arm encircled her waist. Pressed against his chest, Retsu stared up at him for several breathless seconds.

Then the tears began to fall.

"I can see everything," she whispered. "My beautiful Sōsuke, do you see… what I see?"

"I do," he responded tenderly. "I see myself in your eyes, my lady."

At this point, she buried her face in his robe, shoulders shaking from laughter or tears. The leader of the revolution stroked her vibrant black hair while they whispered to one another in voices so low that they didn't carry to Ichigo's ears. He was mesmerized by this unexpected display of tenderness between the two of them.

Something rolled up against his knee then.

Upon lowering his head, he saw a blue eye staring up at him.

"You gonna eat that?"

Looking up, he saw the human-seeming _Espada _gazing tranquilly back at him.

Ichigo hadn't even noticed the guy moving from his position sprawled on the ground. It was like he had just popped up out of the blue. The experience of being directly addressed in the midst of all this lunacy left him feeling ready to check out of his own sanity.

"No? Okay, I will."

With that, the guy gripped the marble, popped it into his mouth and swallowed.

"Ugh," he grimaced, scratching his unshaven chin. "Nasty."

Then he flopped down beside Ichigo and leaned his head against the stone.

"I'm bored." The _vasto lorde _looked over at him suddenly. "Aizen told me your name, but I think one of my fleas ate it. How are you called again?"

Nutcase?

"Ichigo Kurosaki."

"Uh-huh." The nameless Hollow then started clicking his teeth in a broken kind of rhythm, staring vacantly at the bound shinigami. "You don't smell like a god. More like Aizen and… that other one, who never smiles, not the one who never stops. Although he has a little hint of it too. Hollow blend." He stopped, blinking in confusion. "So if you're the same as them, does that make you on our side?"

Moron?

"No."

"Ah, shit! I thought I had this reasoning thing figured out! How do people live like this? It's crazy! They should _want _me to eat them, y'know?"

Monster.

"Who _are _you?"

"Fenris... wait, that's not it…Coyote. Or Coyote Stark. I mean, I'm _Primera_, but also…" All of a sudden his features lit up and he laughed, this weird, wild giggle that made Ichigo's flesh crawl. "I got all these names! One for every form I take now, maybe. Hey, hey!" Stark dropped down and thrust his face close to Kurosaki's. "You want me to be Cerberus?"

"Could you go away now?"

In an instant the manic glee turned into a hangdog expression, and Coyote dropped his head and started sniffling in the manner of a dog. It was kind of embarrassing, watching a grown man or Hollow or whatever be reduced to tears, like he was a teenager going through mood swings.

And then it stopped, to be replaced by a crafty expression that brought fear to the young man's heart.

"Hey. You got any kids?"

The unexpected question caused mere fright to metamorphose into utter perplexity. "What?"

"It just hit me, you smell a whole lot like that little girl I met out in the woods. And you even look like her, come to think of it. You must be related. She your daughter, maybe? Like off a woman you humped and forgot about? If I had tasted her, I could tell you. I've eaten a lot of men's children right in front of them, and you can always feel the connection, it's like…"

"You BASTARD!"

Struggling futilely, the maddened elder brother sought in vain to launch himself at the beast he knew had somehow been in contact with his younger sister.

"I'm gonna _kill you!_ I don't care what it takes, if you come anywhere near my family, you're DEAD! YOU STAY AWAY FROM THEM, OR YOU DIE!"

Stark seemed a bit surprised by that outburst. "You? Be the one who kills… me?" He scratched at the jawbone beneath his chin contemplatively, curly brown locks fanning from side to side. "I don't get it. What's the joke?"

"_Primera?_ Perhaps it would be best if you looked elsewhere for your amusements."

Aizen and Unohana had come to stand over them, still holding onto one another like young lovers. Of the duo, the man wore a smug smile that seemed to invite the world to take him on, while the woman was affecting that kind-hearted expression which Ichigo now understood to be as much a mask as any belonging to the fallen spirits he had purified.

"Ah, you can have him," the shaggy-haired Hollow sniffed, coming upright. "This guy doesn't even know how to tell a joke. It's disgusting." And he stuffed his hand into his pockets and ambled off in search of something only he knew.

This left the three souls, one living, two not, to contemplate one another.

Ignoring the master illusionist, Ichigo focused in on his consort.

"I don't get something," he said in a soft, angry voice. "You healed me. You even saved Momo and Hitsugaya back when Aizen almost killed them. If you were planning to wipe out everybody, why didn't you just let them both die?"

She watched him with those calm, knowing eyes that held precisely the same power to unnerve him back when it was only one. "I've done many things to divert suspicion from myself. Not all of them I can be proud of, I'll freely admit. But it was expected of me, and I chose to follow those expectations while keeping true to my convictions. I saved Momo because she is one of us. But as for the boy captain, I did it for several reasons, the most important of which being that I have had enough of watching children die. Besides, it would have looked odd if I did not. That might have ruined the effect of my being the one to unmask Sōsuke's cabal, which made me appear blameless. Does it make more sense to you now?"

"Like a bad soap opera," Ichigo shot back. "You should see yourselves right now, you look like a couple of cheesy newlywed villains going on a honeymoon."

"You might as well resign yourself to seeing our faces a lot more, young man," Sōsuke smiled good-naturedly without seeming to take affront. "Any allies you might hope will come to your rescue have been nullified. The only remaining worthwhile captains are here in this room, and all but one owes allegiance to me. As for Kisuke and his little pack, they're barred from entering this plane, courtesy of Yamamoto. Except for Yoruichi, and there's only so much she can do."

"Your comrades in the Gotei 13 are even now engaging with Sōsuke's forces." Unohana picked up the bait. "The lieutenants under our command will strive to impress upon them the irresponsibility in continuing this conflict, and our _arrancar_ have been given orders to minimize casualties and accept all surrenders. Considering the craven nature of most shinigami nowadays, I don't foresee the hostilities lasting too long. By the time we return from the real war, they'll hopefully come to realize that there is no need to continue fighting."

It was like they were trying to reason with him about why he shouldn't oppose them. And to anyone else, it probably did look like a lost cause. Unable to call on either death god or Vaizard powers, caught by the enemy, with no real prospect of rescue or recovery, Ichigo had to admit that things had never looked quite so bleak.

One thing jumped out at him, though.

This situation he was in? It had a familiar ring to it.

His eye then traveled past the sinister pair before him, off towards where a lone hero stood over his sister's body.

Rukia.

She had been in exactly the same position when they brought her back here to be put to death. With all that stacked against her, she actually resigned herself to dying as inevitable.

Showed how much you know, you little big-mouth.

It was this thought that allowed him to disregard every deterrent to his spirit and raise his chin to the traitors challengingly.

"When the day's done, I'm just a substitute. The real thing is out there right now, though, and in this room. Death gods. What you're not anymore. It's funny how both of you were shinigami long before me, but neither of you has any respect for that title. Otherwise you wouldn't stand there with a straight face and tell me any of those guys are going to just throw down their swords and give up. Maybe their souls aren't as strong as a captain's, but not even a year ago I saw a girl half my size jump down and split a three-story monster in half to save two people she didn't even know. So don't be surprised if you do manage to come back from your trip and find your army doesn't exist anymore."

There was something in either his words or his demeanor that caught their attention, for Aizen's smirk dipped a fraction, becoming rather contemplative. As for Unohana, she raised an eyebrow and studied him closely, perhaps in recognition of a familiar expression.

Then the power-hungry sophisticate lifted his hands in a welcoming gesture.

"Should you seek to rise against your God, He shall be more than willing to smite you. And if you challenge the rule of your King, we shall prove our right to that authority. For my lady's sake, I choose not to kill you at this time. There are those far more deserving of my blade on this day."

He then turned his back and walked off, regal and assured, already affecting the air of a person over whom there was no higher authority. The confidence of a god was in his every step.

That left the two of them alone for a while.

"The world is changing," Unohana said. "And one day, you will be glad for it, I promise you. We will continue our discussion at a later time, Kurosaki-san. Please do not throw away your future before we have the chance to do so."

Looking at the heavenly spirit's face, the very one he had been enchanted by only a few hours past, the same question he first asked arose.

"All that you've done, to everybody… who do you think you are, lady?"

This time, she answered him.

"I am a god, one who has existed for thousands of years, and I _want…_paradise."

Bending down low, Unohana planted a brief kiss on Ichigo's cheek. And against his own will, he felt his face turning a bright beet-red.

She drew up and turned away from the boy blushing at her feet.

"As should you."

Then Captain Unohana Retsu walked back to rejoin her forces.

Coming upon Aizen, he offered her his hand. When she took it, her champion pressed his lips lightly upon her fingers.

"You are sweet to be so tender with his ego, Retsu. The child has a very high opinion of himself, doesn't he?"

The white-clad physician looked back in Ichigo's direction, eyes holding nothing but sadness.

"He's a good boy."

And she turned away.

"He was just born too late."

* * *

"How may I be of assistance to you, good sir?"

"I have come for your sword, woman."

Sitting in the reception chamber of her small mansion, Lady Unohana Retsu regarded her brash new visitor with polite tolerance. By her estimate, he probably wasn't any more than a century old. A rough-and-rowdy young spirit, attempting to project an air of firm authority. Small, deep-set eyes watched her every movement closely, in a way that did not resemble the lustful or flippant youths she was accustomed to dealing with. The man's brow bore a deep scar that entered his hairline and cut a bare patch through it. Heavy chestnut hair was tied in a ponytail at the back of his head, and a faint beard covered his lean jaws. While sporting a sleekly-muscled body, evident in brief glimpses, his face was somewhat gaunt, as if he were unaccustomed to eating well. She had not failed to notice the way his eyes devoured the rich cuisine her servants had set before them, though he refused to touch a scrap, requiring that she hold off on her meal as well.

Aside from the sword at his hip, the only other noticeable characteristic for this roustabout was a yellow tunic of simple design that still could not hide its good quality. Even had he not announced it so boldly on first approaching her domicile, she would have known that this person came as a representative of the so-called King, the ungracious monarch who could barely protect himself, let alone the souls supposedly under his dominion.

"I have yet to hear the name of the person who makes such demands."

"My name is not important," he announced in a clipped, military tone.

"Oh, but a good name can serve to cement your presence in peoples' minds." She slipped a hand through her silken tresses casually while offering him a serene smile. "I myself have been given so many. Ishtar. Isis. Amaterasu. Earth Mother. I could comprise an entire pantheon with the identities mortals have cast me in."

"Your self-adulation in the realm of the living is partly why I am here. The fact that I speak in the name of your King should suffice in regards to my identity."

Silver-haired Yūma, Retsu's servant and one of her oldest supporters, gave a distasteful curl of his lip as he set delicately glazed teacups before both of them, but otherwise let show none of his feelings. For her part, the mistress of that house considered what this visitor might portend.

"I believe I made my opinion regarding such an idea quite clear when I left that company." Retsu took a sip, while he still declined to touch his own cup. "His Majesty refused to consider my petition to offer comfort directly to the citizenry, declaring that my duty lay primarily in protecting his and the other titled families. So I chose to exercise my natural-born free will in that respect. It is my decision who requires my defense. The noble guardsmen he sent to emphasize his point were similarly bellicose and dogmatic as yourself. I left all of them alive, but none standing."

She hoped the message was not lost upon this callow youth. But he gave no indication of being in any way intimidated. This was somewhat of a surprise. It had been a very long time since anyone had seriously thought to challenge Unohana. She was, without being boastful, the single strongest soul ever known. Her magic could perform wondrous miracles, and the strength of her arm far surpassed any other, whether man, woman or Hollow. Her guardian spirit Minazuki commanded power over life and death. To underestimate her was to court your own demise.

And yet here this boy sat, bold as brass, behaving as though she should be the one trembling in his presence.

While not a vain person, Retsu did not like to be treated discourteously, and certainly not in her own home. Therefore the continued rude behavior from this nameless messenger was beginning to cause her distress.

She reclined back in her silken robes and gave him a piercing stare. "I take it then that you intend for me to return to my position within the King's court."

"That is _not _my intent," he retorted. "His Majesty has bestowed upon me the rank of General. It _is _my intent to fashion a force that will put an end to the beasts that prey upon the living. To do that, I must have the greatest spirits in the afterlife at my command. Among the mage community you are reckoned to be far above the rest. Your presence in my ranks will serve as an example to all the others. And you have already given your allegiance to the King. I speak in his name, and so I order you to join me now."

All this posturing was growing tedious. His speech was indecorous and without any sophistication. It was almost painful to hear him go on.

"And pray tell, should I refuse, how will you strive to convince me otherwise?"

His face did not alter one bit when he spoke next.

"If you refuse, then that makes you a rebel, along with everyone who chooses to follow your example. And I will have no choice but to burn you like the witch you are."

That does it. Any more of this and I might not be able to restrain my temper.

"Your speech ill behooves one seeking my aid. You are no longer welcome in my home, messenger," Unohana spoke flatly. "It is high time you made your farewells." She signed to Yūma, who came forth to stand behind the reckless envoy. He opened his mouth to speak.

A katana was out of its sheathe faster than the old servant could draw breath, and he fell cut in half, bursting into flames as he did. There was not even enough time for him to scream before he was completely incinerated.

The graceful mistress came to her feet while pulling her own nodachi from its resting place beneath the couch. Even as she unsheathed the weapon, Retsu attempted to cover her shock, fury… and surprise. His speed; she was only a few paces from him, and there hadn't been a chance to begin a spell, much less stop him. He was so mercilessly _fast!_ It suddenly became apparent why the King had chosen this person to bring her back into the fold.

All the same, in spite of her misgivings about this course of action and recrimination for the murder, she still sought to give him a way out.

"Are you certain you will not reconsider this behavior, child?"

He stood and raised his burning blade. "The next words you speak will be to surrender. Otherwise I shall treat you in a manner that will make you regret your arrogance."

"So be it."

She grasped Minazuki with both hands, bringing it up to her shoulder and pointing it at his heart, just as the man raced towards her, a hellish inferno roaring at his back.

"_SHŌ_!"

The unseen spell shot down the length of her zanpakutō to meet his charge, faster than he had apparently expected. The force of the blast cannoned into his chest and sent him flying backwards, plowing through the rear wall.

Unohana followed, shaken in spite of her successful defense. Mercy, but that had been close! She had practically felt the flames licking against her skin. Best not to take any chances. "_Enkosen_," the magic-user murmured, and a round shield of concentrated kidō sprang up around her left wrist. Now somewhat more secure, she proceeded in pursuit of her attacker.

I should finish this quickly before anyone else can get hur...

"Reduce all Creation to Ash: RYUJIN JAKKA!"

* * *

Hours later, what had once been a graceful palace was now a burnt-out hulk. Its inhabitants, whatever their nature or temperament, were reduced to charcoal.

Only the mistress of that domain remained, on her knees gasping out a spell.

"_Onshoku Banda no Mori!"_

A ring of giant blue-black stick figures shot up around the target, waving multiple appendages. The Forest of Angry Branches then turned all their wrath upon him, pounding at the man's body with the frenzied strength and ferocity of Nature itself. He staggered from one side to the next, repeatedly brutalized by those iron-hard limbs.

Then he plunged his sword into the earth and roared. Fire erupted from the turf, creating a cone of flames in which her familiars perished with ghostly wails. Before the inferno could even begin to die down he came bounding through its side, clad only in his loincloth and ready to attack once more.

"The back, which blocks off sight/ The front, which reflects all light/ Stand before me and paralyze all who look upon you/ You Second Imperial Treasure, whose name is _Kyōmon: _Mirror Door!"

Around her a transparent dome appeared, and her enemy's first attack caromed off its impenetrable surface in a wash of fiery scraps. The winded sorceress drew herself up trembling before that assault. Capable of repelling virtually any physical assault, this measure would hopefully grant her the time she needed to fashion a truly wicked attack or at least recover from her more serious injuries.

'Seriously injured'. It was a phrase that Unohana had thought of countless times in reference to the misfortunes of others, and always before her power had proven sufficient to counter even the most seemingly fatal of cases. There was a reason she was worshipped in the land of the living.

But never, in all the battles she had fought, had that term ever been applied to herself.

Now it was. That and worse, as a matter of fact. There was hardly enough opportunity to attend to the minor cuts and burns she had received, much less the major ones. Several of the fingers of her left hand had been crushed after he got close enough to grab her, and her spectral frame was supported by only one good leg. The other had snapped painfully along with her hip from a brutal roundhouse-kick. Retsu's left arm was wrenched from her socket when he held on during that attack, and she had saved herself from possibly losing that limb only by hurling a corrosive cloud full into his face, leaving the brute coughing and retching for a time.

That was almost twenty minutes past. Things had not improved for her since then. A ways off Minazuki lay amidst a circle of flames, shrieking inside her creator's soul as her metal was scorched and seared. Their adversary certainly hadn't escaped his fair share of injuries. But his endurance was proving to be phenomenal. Spells might knock him down or even lay open his flesh, but right away he would stand back up and come charging at her like nothing had happened. It was nothing less than inhuman how he soldiered on in spite of receiving damage that would have surely killed anyone else. She had practically cut his head open, opening a wound crosswise along that scar he had previously sported. But this proved to be as ineffectual at killing him as had that old attack. Fire held no harm for him, he seemed to bathe in any of those assaults she sent his way. Physical attacks like Forest of Angry Branches did their fair share, but if he had sustained any wounds as grievous as her own, he certainly didn't show it.

The grace that had been lacking in his dialogue was far more evident in his combat abilities. Sword and flame were wielded as effortlessly as she might have sung a spell. Clearly this nameless samurai was no stranger to the battlefield, as he possessed a soldier's instincts in terms of using the terrain and keeping his opponent unbalanced. It was a magnificent display of techniques.

Of course, none of this was new to her. Retsu had encountered skilled swordsmen in the past, some of whom actually possessed greater talent even than herself. But always before, her mighty spirit and repertoire of magic had proven to be an insurmountable obstacle for any and all combatants. They simply couldn't touch her when it came to spell-casting, which was where her heart truly lay. Like attempting to reach the crest of a tsunami by swimming up it, or flinging yourself at the side of a mountain in an effort to reach its core. It couldn't be done.

Now the sorceress finally knew how all those who fell to her power must have felt.

That was where this warrior's strength lay. Power. Raw, burning, indisputable _power. _A mere flick of the wrist held the strength of a fiery storm blazing across the face of the world. Behind his sword's movement was a physical force that seemed more fitting to an entire army of fighters rather than just one man. In an untrained opponent, that sort of natural ability would have proven difficult to overcome. Combined with the speed and sheer grace of this professional killer's style, it proved to be as effective as any spell she could muster. His lingering reiatsu was as enduring as vicious poison in her body, hampering her ability to heal any wounds that were inflicted. Even going ban-kai had not been enough to bring him low, although it had somewhat weakened him before he managed to separate her from her weapon. The fact that he had not died as a result of even a brush with her ultimate technique had proven to be the first true sign that Retsu might not be guaranteed a victory in this fight as she had always been.

His talent was evident, but in the end, it boiled down to nothing more than smashing everything that got in his way.

How… how could I be _LOSING_ to this brute_?_

No answer came, as she began to desperately recite the cantrips.

"House but never a home/ Wailing sound, the mother's grief…"

For a mile all around them, something began to take shape in that forest. So vast was its scope that her assailant didn't seem to notice its appearance at all. It was a multi-tiered pagoda, glowing in luminous neon green with its tip reaching up high towards the heavens. A star seemed to burn at its highest peak, making it look more like a lighthouse than anything else.

But the only safe harbor this construct could lead any souls to was death.

"Soaring up into heaven, stone upon wood form a bridge across the river to hell/…"

Building up piece by piece, the funeral tower took shape. While the structure grew more solid with every second, the ball of energy at its peak shrank in upon itself. A bell began to toll, heralding no joy in life, only its end. It was a curse, perhaps the mightiest she had ever crafted, and meant to be used only in the unlikely possibility that to do otherwise could only lead to her own death. While proud of her abilities, the supreme spell-caster had never simply assumed that she would be able to beat everyone using the same strategies.

"Born of life, born of hope/ Know ye not of any reason to fear…"

While Unohana watched him beat relentlessly against her barrier, a sort of sluggish torpor seemed to steal over his actions. It was not really tiredness; more like time itself was slowing under the pall of her enchantment. Safe within her shell, she permitted herself a weary smile. The spell was working!

"…As you blow out the billionth candle/ Stand forever as a monument to the end of dreams!"

The pagoda was almost completely solid, and the bier was down to a mere cinder. A smell of incense and rotting meat went boiling out across this dimension, causing any souls still in the vicinity to cringe and hang their heads, feeling as they never had in life the cold promise of death for all of them.

"_Grand Palace of the Death God!_"

DIE!

And then, it was complete. The puny star of hope atop it flickered on the cusp of being snuffed out forever.

In the stillness of certain oblivion, there came a word.

"BAN-KAI!"

For a moment there was nothing.

Then the tower glowed red. It flashed and smoked, light pouring out of its windows and seeping through its cracks, enough to illuminate everything for hundreds of kilometers in any direction.

Had anyone been listening, they would have heard a sound like some titan taking a deep breath.

In the next instant the murderous manse exploded, sending fire raging out all around. Where it had stood, a tremendous burning blue creature resembling a cross between a salamander and a phoenix lifted its fanged beak skyward and shrieked out its call.

Then it disappeared, and the land knew peace.

Down at the site of that blast, the warrior had one fist furled in the fallen Unohana's robe, and was calmly beating her with the other. Each blow proved smooth and slow, and he was careful not to put all of his strength behind them lest it prove too much for the necromancer. Always he hit her in the precise same spot, right in her left cheek just below the eye. The bone of her skull was pulverized, the flesh over it so purple it looked black. Tears of blood streamed from that eye, which was swiftly resembling nothing more than a crushed grape. Her head rocked back and forth as he continued to punish her, that dangerous mouth unable to utter even a single whimper of protest, much less any more spells.

"You will learn…"

He hit her.

"…your place…"

Again.

"…witch…"

And again.

"You serve…"

Once more.

"…you live…"

And again.

"…only at my…"

Again.

"…sufferance…"

He raised his fist back again, then paused. The audacious tramp was hanging limp in his grip, blood bubbling between her lips with every breath. Her vanquisher took the time to consider. It had not been his intent to kill her unless absolutely necessary. In spite of his previous insults, he found himself impressed by her power. No one had ever forced him to use his ban-kai to win a battle before. Certainly a figure like this would be of great benefit in his war against the demons. Even if she was just a woman.

So resolved, he let her broken body slide to the ground.

"You wished to know my name."

She twitched, shuddering and curling in on herself, hiding her ruined face.

"It would have been unsightly for me to tender it when my opponent was only a woman. But now that the fight is over, you should learn it, for you shall need to know who I am if you are to serve. And even if you die, it will not be with the regret of dying unaware of who defeated you."

"So. I am Yamamoto Genryusai-Shigekuni."

Bending down, Yamamoto retrieved Ryujin Jakka from where it had fallen. He hefted the katana onto his bleeding shoulder before turning away.

"I understand you are a skilled healer. It is my wish that you tend to yourself now. I will await you at the mountain called Senzaikyū in the morning. Do not make me come looking for you."

The battle was ended. And so, he left her there.

* * *

**Nearly 1,900 years later**…

"As of now, the incident of disappearances in the Rukongai is no longer minor!" Yamamoto harrumphed. "Our very dignity as the Gotei 13 is riding on our successful resolution of this matter! With that in mind, I shall send five captains to scour the site of the event for clues."

Uncomfortably, Jūshirō watched as the young Captain Urahara Kisuke burst in and made a spectacle of himself, requiring both the Commander-General and his former captain to upbraid the lad. The investigators were chosen, while he himself was assigned to guard duty along with Shunsui. Considering this mystery already seemed to have instilled dread in every heart aware of it, Ukitake shuddered to think of how much more fearsome the truth might prove to be once revealed.

"Pardon me, sir."

His breath caught in his throat.

No. Merciful heavens, what are you _doing?_

Unohana Retsu spoke up once more. "Rather than remaining at the relief station to tend any injuries that arise, would it not be more effective for me to travel to the site of the potential conflict myself?"

The Thirteenth division captain flicked a glance over at their superior, already dreading what he would find.

Sure enough, one of the Commander-General's eyes had opened a crack, and a terrible fire burned in it.

Then it closed, and the old man calmly refused her suggestion, opting instead to send the head of the Kidō Corps, Tessai Tsukabishi. There was a little more shuffling of characters involved, but in the end, the meeting was completed with Yamamoto thumping his staff against the floor, dismissing them all.

Jūshirō trooped out quickly, trying not to appear as if he were in a hurry. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I imagined it. It's a very stressful time for us, and considering how nasty this business might prove to be, I sincerely doubt he would risk…

As the captain filed out, he heard the sound of a cane striking the floor once more. And then, again.

A shiver went up his spine. The signal was clear. He couldn't pretend to ignore it. With that, he turned back around. Shunsui sent him a questioning look, but the white-haired captain only waved off his concern like all the times before. 'Nothing to worry about, just need to have a little chat with the Old Man about things'. That was the vague excuse he always gave, and his old friend had never chosen to call him out on it.

In some ways, though, he resented the fact that Kyōraku trusted him so explicitly. If he would only just muster the interest to ask, just once…

_What? You really think he could put a stop to it? _

Why not?

_It would only lead to more pain. Just let it go._

I hate it when you find excuses for everything.

_I do what I have to, for you to survive._

Have you wondered why I never thank you?

_Just go. They're waiting for you._

His steps took him on the well-remembered path, deep into the heart of the First division barracks. There was no sense dragging his feet or wishing to be elsewhere. This was only one of the obscene duties that his mentor and commander insisted he do, without telling anyone about it.

I don't have a choice.

Eventually he came at last to the specific closed door. Unohana was already waiting beside it. She did not look at him, but he couldn't have met her gaze anyway. They both knew what awaited them. And so, the legendary figures opened the portal, and stepped inside.

Yamamoto was standing with his back to the door. A single brazier burned in that chamber, casting dim orange light for a space before succumbing to the shadows that lurked in every corner and over their heads. Perhaps it was Ukitake's imagination, but this infernal chamber seemed darker every time he stepped into it. Like the sins committed here soaked into the walls over time, building up to gradually leach away any light that might fall upon it.

While he was absorbed in this reverie, Unohana crossed over to stand behind their leader.

The wizened fighter turned at her approach. She looked at him, calm and regal, hands clasped at her front in a gesture of submissiveness.

The gnarled stick of wood swung out and cracked against her skull.

She fell, as she always did, and the only observer to this display of brutal pique gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. He watched as the old man rained blows upon her huddled body, striking her back and shoulders with his stave, thrashing her as one might a disobedient maidservant. That savage warrior, as hard and twisted as the stick he chose to hide his soul cutter in, displayed not an ounce of either eagerness or regret in his actions. No doubt he felt justified in doing this, like it was a necessary duty he must perform in order to assure the stability of his command.

It was over in less than a minute. Coming upright, that once-mighty warrior, still stronger than any of them even when bent by age, looked down upon his handiwork and grumbled, "It has been too long since I have been forced to chastise you like this. Clearly you had forgotten it. I trust that now your memory will be refreshed. You do not dispute my judgment. Remember your place, woman. Your life belongs to the Gotei 13, and I will not permit you to shame it or me."

Yamamoto peered up at the pallid shinigami standing off to one side. As always, he gave the command. "Heal her. Make certain that she bears no sign of weakness afterwards."

And with that, he tottered out of the room, tapping his stick along like a blind man.

After he was gone, Jūshirō played his part.

He stood stock still, and did nothing.

Unohana lay still, but he did not deceive himself into thinking she was unconscious. He had made that mistake the first time, when he had rushed to her side as soon as Yamamoto had left after explaining this abominable treatment to his own satisfaction. Before he could touch her, though, a spell had lashed out, slamming him against the wall with such force that it left him dazed.

From that position, he had watched as the battered woman proceeded to heal herself.

She never let him touch her, not even to offer support when she finally staggered upright. It was simply amazing how strong she was, to take this abuse every time, just stand there and let herself be mistreated like that, then undo the damage herself like it was no great effort.

They never spoke to one another, not during, nor even afterwards. Not once in nigh on two thousand years had either of them discussed what they knew. Ukitake knew why he didn't make the attempt. He was afraid. Afraid of learning what it was she thought of him, and Yamamoto, and all of them for permitting something like this to take place, even if they were unaware of it. So many secrets were kept in his heart. He had committed horrible acts, all in the name of preserving order. 'For the greater good'. One of Yamamoto's favorite expressions, which he used to excuse the most vicious deeds.

Yes, horrible acts.

But nothing quite compared to this.

Some nights when his illness was in full bloom, leaving him compulsively coughing up bright blood on the floor while his devoted subordinates hovered close by to tend to his condition, the gentle and venerable captain wished that he would just die. He didn't deserve their love and support. Not after what he permitted to occur throughout the ages.

Why did she never back down? What was it that compelled her, every now and then, to say or do something she knew would bring that heavy hand down upon her? Why did she never speak out against it?

More importantly… why don't I?

Because I owe him? Is any debt worth this slow torture done to my soul? How long will I be forced to endure this misery? Until the day I die…?

Or she does?

* * *

She was alone.

She could permit no one to touch her, especially not Jūshirō. If he did, if anyone touched her truly, they might feel it there, eating away at her heart.

She remembered the first time she had come back from one of her nemesis' lessons, and felt a peculiar deadness unlike the usual white-hot rage that burned within her.

When she had disrobed to go to bed that night, she noticed a small mark on her breast. At first she had gone to observe it in the mirror, frowing, thinking that she had failed to heal some injury at his hands. These wounds were not as enduring as the ones from that first titanic clash between them. It was not like the eye she had lost on that day, crushed and seared by his violent reiatsu to the point where it was incapable of being restored, even by her. This might have been more the result of a weakness in her mind rather than her spirit, a trauma left over from that complete and utter debasement. But if so, it was one that she had never been able to overcome, no matter how hard she tried.

She had pulled that ruined orb out, and fashioned a replica that would hide her disfigurement to any other eye. Unlike that day, there was nothing she could not heal from these assaults. Perhaps because he was going easy on her this time. The very thought made her want to scream.

When she realized what that tiny black speck was, she almost did.

The growing mark of a Hollow hole.

Tears fell from that single eye as her vision gazed back from the depths of the mirror. She could not permit herself to cry in front of others, lest they wonder as to why only one stream of tears ever came out. And so she chose to cover the sign of this fall into despair by slowly and carefully binding her thick mass of hair in front of it. Some people looked at her askance when she first emerged with this unusual coiffure, but no one ever dared ask outright what it meant.

She loved her precious foster children. But sometimes, their blissful ignorance cost her greatly in terms of strength.

And so the former Witch of the Marsh continued in her plans, desperate now for a different reason than before. She knew, just as a soul had been born who could defeat hers, one day someone would come to challenge Yamamoto. It was just a matter of enduring 'til then.

Of course, if it didn't look like her hero was coming along in time, she might just have to see about making one.

* * *

Byakuya crouched beside Rukia, reinforcing the spell he cast to protect her from all this fiendish reiatsu swarming around them.

While he did, Sōsuke Aizen came to stand beside them.

"You must be wondering why we haven't bothered to rob you of your strength like the others."

The dutiful captain did not respond.

"I couldn't have explained why yesterday, but now is a different story." He moved over across from Byakuya and sat facing him, with the girl in between them. "It's because you serve a greater purpose in my world."

Still he ignored him.

"Understand, I have never born you any personal animosity. Even when my memories were sealed, I knew who my true enemies were. Yamamoto, the Central 46, and your grandfather Ginrei. But all of them have been disposed of, one way or another. That leaves the two of us free to discuss your family's future."

At this, a visage dark as a storm-cloud rose to regard him.

"I tell you this now, Takuiyoku. You will never decide anything for me or mine."

The use of his given name so rudely only made Sōsuke grin. "That right there is the reason why I chose to spare you, Kuchiki-san. You are more than just a captain. _You_ are everything a nobleman is meant to be. If ever there was a figure who embodied the virtues of our class to an extent that it was almost a fault, we need look no further than you. The people look up to you. They respect you. And when they see you standing to support my rule, in your position as both captain and head of your clan, it will make the transition of power all the more official. Less chance of there being unrest that needs to be violently quashed that way. You understand."

Byakuya returned his attention to his sister, who gave no sign of hearing any of this. "Spare me your delusions, monster. One way or another, you will be destroyed. _That _is the goal which shall have my fullest support."

His fellow aristocrat cocked an eyebrow. He glanced around, inspecting the array of his forces in preparation of their impending invasion. Unohana stood speaking to Yumichika and Harribel, while Tosen was attempting to prop up Stark, who looked slightly rubbery-legged and was behaving in the manner of a happy drunk. Meanwhile, Ulquiorra and Barragan were lost in their own little worlds.

"It's almost time," the moon-god mused, lifting his chin towards the dimensional rift gaining cohesion overhead.

Then he looked back down.

"I never bore you ill will. But that doesn't mean I cared for you either. Even now, you take for granted the gifts you have been given. You are a man who has seemingly been blessed by heaven. But lest you forget: the wealth and privilege that you have enjoyed all your life came at the cost of my family's very existence. Does that sound like the sort of thing that God would allow to happen without any sort of repercussions?"

Now Byakuya met that challenging stare directly.

"Any sympathy I might have felt for your pain died prematurely, as a result of your evil. Do not expect me to shed a tear for the sins of our fathers."

"Ah," Takuiyoku sighed. "And what of our sons?"

The raven-haired lord rose to his full height, looking down on that egregious egotist.

"What?"

Sōsuke didn't bother looking up. Instead he passed a finger over Rukia's silent form, observing as the barrier around her sprang up in response to his proximity.

"Even if you have not thought that far into the future, I most certainly have. And believe me, the idea is one that has given me immense pleasure since my earliest days."

His hand hovered over the girl's face, and then it slowly dipped down. Scarlet energy flared around his wrist, but it could not serve to hold him back. "Your family robbed me of my own, Lord Kuchiki. Wouldn't it strike you as being obligatory, then, and almost poetically justified, if someone from your clan were to provide me with a family in return?"

No answer came from the man standing above him.

"After all, every King must needs have a Queen," the ruler of Hueco Mundo continued amiably. "Ah, but there are so many worthwhile candidates, aren't there? Not just from your family, but from the others as well. I recall that the Shiba heiress is still available, and missing an arm certainly wouldn't preclude her from having children. The daughter of my mother's murderer could be the mother of my own children, eh? And even still, there is… the Lady of Shihoin. A most heavenly creature, I have always thought. Oh, but it is such a dilemma, choosing from so many exceptional women! I find myself quite unable to decide, perhaps I should have them all!"

The tip of a razor-sharp sword lanced toward his eye, only to stop a hair's-breadth from striking, denied by the concentration of his inestimable soul energy. He looked up then, with his palm hovering above the sleeping maiden's hair. Apparently his unleashed presence traveled through the barrier as a result, and the girl moaned painfully.

In response, Senbonzakura was swiftly withdrawn.

"I will forgive you your indiscretion, Kuchiki-san," Sōsuke breathed softly, coming upright. "I can afford to be generous. In fact, to prove it, I believe I will go one step further. You stated before that I would make no decisions pertaining to your family. Let us see how right you are. The choice is yours, Lord Byakuya Kuchiki. I leave it in your capable hands to determine which of the ladies I mentioned shall be my bride upon my return. Should you find yourself unable to back your own vow, then I shall choose for myself. Consider this the largesse of your King."

He spun away, the tail of his coat swirling magnificently around him. "But do not take too long."

It was at that moment that the portal between dimensions opened, and golden light spilled down of such intensity that it might have come from the very first morning sun.

Standing bathed in the center of that divine radiance, Aizen Sōsuke slowly raised his hands skywards, head bowed and eyes closed in perfect bliss. In that moment he truly appeared to be a god.

"Thus begins my time."

With that the moment ended, and the figure turned to his disciples.

"The Enemy awaits," he cried. "STARK!"

"Yoh?" That fearsome figure's head lolled upright on Kaname's shoulder.

"The War of the End is here! You are the vanguard. Transform and take the fight to them! Let heaven see what hell's fury hath wrought!"

For once there was no indecision. The prospect of battle cleared away whatever mad spiders had spun their cobwebs in the ancient Hollow's brain, and he yanked free his sword and lifted his head, a joyful light dancing in his face and spittle on his lips. Coyote HOWLED!

"KICK ABOUT, _LOS LOBOS!"_

Immediately there rose in his place a creature more animal than man, the greatest wolf the world had ever known. Black as the night sky and completely mad, the prime _vasto lorde _crouched down and launched itself up into the golden river, passing out of this plane with an eager shrieking laugh.

Byakuya stood transfixed by this display as much as from the feel of the beast's soul. Aizen, however, was all activity, firmly ensconced in his command. "Go with him, Tosen! Don your mask along the way if his presence proves too much." The blind man bowed and leapt to follow in the maniac's wake. "Barragan, Harribel, hold off. Let Stark's arrival throw them into pandemonium and attract their fire!" He spun about, eyes searching for someone in particular. "Retsu, are we decided?"

"Yes." She flashed over to him. "Yumichika-san will remain here in reserve with Ulquiorra and take Ichimaru's place in defense of our backs. Should the tide turn against us, they can be called upon."

"Ulquiorra, are we clear on that?" The king glanced over at his _Cuarta, _who was standing silently in the same spot as before. "Ulquiorra!"

The demon blinked. One green eye rolled over to regard his leader, and he gave a nod. "I understand, Aizen-sama."

"Kill only when necessary," Aizen reminded him. He then turned and indicated to the remaining two _Espada. _"Go now. Do not engage _Segunda Etapa _until after you have cleared the portal. We don't know if it is stable enough to risk the two of you at that level."

They both obeyed, rising to enter the tunnel of light and soon becoming nothing but black motes in its depths.

Unohana Retsu watched their ascension, then turned to Aizen. "Nothing stands in your way, my Lord. Shall we?"

Her champion placed an arm around the small goddess' shoulder, then cast a look first at Byakuya, followed by Ichigo. In this moment, with everything that was at stake, it felt like there was so much that he could have said to them.

But he spoke not a word, and there was nothing but the deadliest seriousness in his expression.

Then the King and his Lady slipped all earthly bonds and rose up into the mouth of Nirvana.

After they left, the Door remained open, shining a gentle radiance down upon them that in no way correlated to the vicious struggle for power that was no doubt taking place in its depths.

* * *

At Kuchiki manor, everyone's nerves were on edge following the sudden dispersal and reapplication of the protective dome around the Seireitei, followed by those horrific presences that could be felt all the way here. There had been heated discussion about whether or not the Hollows had breached the Court, and if this could constitute a reason to obey their lord's final command to destroy the manor.

So when a passing guard heard a noise coming from his lordship's vacated chambers, he didn't discount it, only entered the room cautiously, his halberd bared in readiness of an attack.

For a time the valiant seneschal stood still, seeking to verify with all his senses the location of the disturbance. He held off from raising the alarm until something more…

"…fck…"

Immediately his attention was drawn to the great cabinet in which were housed the master's most precious treasures. Strangely enough, while he knew that this was the time when he should summon his brethren, that unwholesome word did not stir his suspicions, but rather his curiosity. And so he approached the edifice cautiously, leaning in close to see what else he might hear.

"Figures he would lock the damn thing… just like that little… oh well, here goes nothing."

Huh?

"Hey, you! Stand back!"

And with that the doors burst open in a flash, sending the diligent guardsman tumbling back against a wall, already drawing breath to shout the alarm.

This impulse died when the smoke cleared to reveal a naked goddess standing before him.

"Sorry about that," the brown-skinned beauty grinned cheekily. "I just needed to pick up something." She hefted aloft a short sword that usually adorned the inside of the cabinet, grabbed it on the downswing, then turned and sped from the room, leaving the servant gaping in total awe.

Yoruichi Shihoin laughed delightedly as she raced along the rooftops of the estate, hugging the ceremonial weapon tight to her chest.

Hey. Did you miss me?

_Desperately. _

GODS, it's good to hear your voice again!

_Leaving me with that mope all this time…Where in blue blazes have you BEEN?_

It's called setting up a strategy, my friend. These things take time.

_Let's hope your plans have improved in the past century._

Nice try, but it's not my plan. It's Kisuke's.

_Oh, joy. I feel so much better._

You should. Because it's the only chance we've got. Are you with me?

_Who else would I be with? Do you know who we're up against now?_

I've got a bad feeling, so yes, I think I do. Pray that I'm wrong.

_I'll pray you've gotten faster since I last saw you. Is this really all you've got?_

Oh, you saucy little…! Let me _show_ you!

_YEEEEE-HAW! THAT's more LIKE IT! We're coming to GET YOU, you faithless TRAITORS!_

And with that Yoruichi tore off in pursuit of her accomplices.

* * *

Kira glared at the pair, frowning. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Who, us?" the bulky one looked at his scar-faced partner for confirmation.

"We're men of good faith," that figure responded.

"Yeah, don'tcha know."

* * *

The lieutenant flung off his shades, a bloodthirsty smile lighting up his face as he hoisted his shikai.

"Now, show me the strength of a mad dog's determination, and I'll show you the strength of a MAN'S!"

* * *

"It is my purpose to stand in place for others' pain. But Nee-san taught me… it is my choice for whom I do so."

* * *

Nanao looked down her nose at the raging beast she had once counted as an ally. "Why don't we see just which of us cracked the spell-books harder, _lieutenant?"_

_

* * *

_

"**So what are you supposed to be?" **Grimmjow snarled.

And the hybrid bared its fangs.

"**I'm the KING, pussy-cat!"**

**

* * *

**

The crown-mask lifted skyward, and Sōsuke Aizen roared.

"_**BOW TO YOUR KING!"**_

_**

* * *

**_

Strolling around the room, Yumichika tugged at his collar, appearing bored and dissatisfied. He looked to the pair of women now being watched over by the Kuchiki prince, and stroked his chin leisurely.

"Rule #1," he murmured to himself. "_Never surrender."_

His gaze wandered over to linger on the depleted boy strung up by his vines.

"Rule #2: _No sweets for the vice-captain after midnight."_

And lastly, his purple orbs fell on that pallid yet weirdly beautiful angel of death, who kept one eye roaming about the room and the other fixed firmly on Ichigo.

"Rule #3: _Do NOT hit Yumichika Ayasegawa in the face."_

And a small grin worked its way up that splendidly handsome visage.

"He'll kill you."

_To be continued…_


	30. War in Heaven: Heroes Will Rise

There was a world of pain and remorse in Shunsui's normally carefree face when Unohana came to stand over him. Perhaps it was from the sight of what she had done to his friend Ukitake. But she liked to think that it was born from the realization that it needn't have come to this for him.

You were always the better man, she thought, and proceeded to stab him pitilessly.

When both his saketsu and hakusui were ruined, Retsu paused to wipe the blood off her blade before returning it to its scabbard.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Looking up, the captain found they were no longer alone.

Her lieutenant Isane Kotetsu stood at the other end of the rooftop, mouth wide open, hands raised to her face as though prepared to tear out her eyes at what she had just seen.

The poor thing looked ready to go mad. It broke her heart to think that she might cause this devoted girl any more pain than she already had.

I had best see to her before this gets any worse.

An incantation flowed smoothly from her mouth, and the area all around them was bathed in a greenish witch-light. The forbidden spell, _Jikanteishi_, altered the flow of time such that everything under its influence would be divorced from the regular temporal plane for a short period. They could talk for as long as it lasted, and when the magic faded not even a second would have passed in the Seireitei. It was powerful, and distressingly loud, such that anyone in the vicinity with soul power would sense it. But there was no further need for subterfuge.

With that Unohana flashed over to appear in front of her silver-haired subordinate. Isane choked down a shriek, actually taking a step back and holding out her arm defensively.

"Isane-chan," Retsu spoke gently, "You were not meant to be anywhere near here."

"I… wasn't…" She looked torn between her previous horror and the simple need to obey her taichou. Kotetsu's soft brown eyes flickered over to where the other two captains lay, and she jerked her head away, as though unwilling to look upon that sight and all that it implied. Her body quaked, and she sat down heavily, shaking her head in denial.

Unohana crossed over and knelt before her.

"I regret you had to see this, Isane-chan," she murmured. "I would have spared you from as much of the pain as I could, but it never seemed like enough. You have no idea how much of a comfort you have been to me all these centuries. If not for you, I must surely have lost my heart long before."

A touch of her hand to the shinigami's sickly face told her just how much she was hurting. It was a deep, raw wound to the soul, and through it the ultimate healer could experience just how much their relationship had meant to Isane Kotetsu throughout the years.

It had not been her intention to do this now, but as the last few minutes had shown, she must be adaptable to any unforeseen events.

"There is something you must know about me."

Grasping one of the young woman's hands, she brought it up to her chest, allowing her to touch the space over her heart. It was an intimate gesture that no one else had been permitted to partake of in well over a thousand years, since the first sign of encroachment began.

After a few seconds of their soul bodies being in contact like this, a look dawned in Kotetsu's face, and when it did, Unohana knew that she had grasped the secret hidden within her soul.

The shocked expression her lieutenant turned on her caused far more guilt than anything she had done to Jūshirō and Shunsui.

"I have been so lonely, Isane-chan. I had to take precautions to ensure what you are feeling now would remain a secret for as long as possible. Some of them were fairly obvious, like never allowing anyone to approach me intimately, for fear that they might discover it. And then there were… other things I did."

This particular revelation was one she had been dreading ever since they first met. For when all was said and done, Isane was one of the few people in her life she loved unreservedly. Everything in this girl's soul was a blessing; her warmth, her gentleness, the strength and compassion that had enabled her to outlast all of the other lieutenants that came before. It was as though she had been tailor-made to satisfy all of Unohana's needs. That was why she hadn't attempted to bring the girl into their plot. To take such a pure and wonderful soul and sully it with the darkness of her intent would have damned her more assuredly than anything else she could or would do. Even the purpose to which she had put her to all unknowing left a deep regret on the captain's heart. Now, it was time to unburden herself of that old shame.

Retsu took the stunned shinigami's hands in her own and began to stroke the skin tenderly in an attempt to soothe her. Kotetsu trembled beneath her touch like a wounded deer, but made no move to resist.

"The grief that has been building within me, the pain and fear I chose to hide- it took its toll on me, my dearest, as you have seen. There was no way to know how long it would take for my plans to come to fruition, and if the… disease spread beyond my ability to control, it would all be for naught. In order to prevent that from happening, I had to devise a means to rid myself of the worst of my toils and troubles, my… nightmares."

The ancient spirit took a deep breath. She had to tell the truth, relieve herself of this agony before the fight.

"Isane-chan, for as long as you have known me, I have been using you. During the day, I bottled up all my worst emotions, the ones that would feed the infection taking root inside me. And at night, I transferred them over to you while you slept. Not all of it, and not all at once; just enough to stave off the spread of the disease. The nightmares you have been having for over a thousand years are the result of this."

Her trusted companion stared, dumbfounded.

In a rush Unohana leaned in and wrapped Isane in her arms, bringing the taller woman's head down on her shoulder. This time it was the black-haired beauty who trembled, but from disgrace, not fear.

"I ask no forgiveness from you," she whispered in a tight, strangled voice. "I knew what I was doing. There is no excuse. But I swear to you, Isane-chan, by everything I hold dear, I hate myself for what I have put you through. You have suffered pains that should never have been yours to bear, and which you never agreed to accept. All because of my pride and self-interest! It makes no difference to tell you that I love you, now, dear heart." Her fingers smoothed the girl's shaggy silver hair, and she gazed off into the distance with tears building in her eye. "But I do. I love you as a mother, a friend, as surely as any living being can be loved, know that I feel that much for you, beloved Isane-chan. It is only owing to the strength of your spirit, and your enduring faith in me, that I have come this far."

The lieutenant of the Fourth division quaked helplessly in that secure embrace.

"I have sustained you as much as I could without you noticing, but even when I felt certain I must have pushed you past the point of all existing endurance, you proved me wrong. You observed the worst of our world as I did. For centuries you have been by my side without wavering. There were days when the only thing I had to look forward to was your smile, your lovely company and quiet grace. Knowing that I have been a burden to you all unawares is the only thing that has given me true cause for reproach. Nothing else could ever make my spirit waver except the thought of how much pain I would eventually cause you. Isane-chan, you stand alone in heaven and earth as the one person who has given me regret in two thousand years."

She tightened her hold on the large frame in what might be the last time she was ever permitted to do so.

"Do you believe me? Please tell me, Isane-chan… do you?"

She waited anxiously for a response. And with every passing second, Unohana Retsu knew uncertainty. For here at last was something she could never accurately foresee or measure: the capacity for faith in one specific person's heart.

No answer came.

Pain caused her heart to ache like the wound in her chest. Her despair approached a feverish crescendo, and it was right then Kotetsu's arms slowly rose and wrapped around her, enveloping the sorceress in their warmth and strength.

"I do," the girl's sweet voice whispered.

It was with boundless relief that Retsu sank into her lieutenant's embrace. There for the captain, as she had been so often before. A gasp of laughter broke from her throat. I knew that we were meant to triumph, Isane. From the day you came to me so unexpectedly, I was sure of it.

Around them, the emerald pallor faded, drawing all back into the present. They drew away and stood watching each other. Isane's eyes drifted over to settle on the two fallen division heads once more.

"Taichou," the tall medic spoke tearfully. "Please, tell me what is happening here."

There was so much confusion in that cherished face that Retsu fiercely hated the people who had forced her to deceive this wondrous child for so long. She then rose up and drew the woman along with her.

"Never fear, my darling. The time of pain for you is over. No more will my foulness trouble your rest. I release you from all obligations to me. All which awaits you now that you have woken from the long nightmare is paradise."

The matchless enchantress then placed her hand over the lieutenant's heart and favored her with a fond smile.

"Now, rest."

"Unohana-taichou…?"

"_Hakufuku_."

A white haze rose around them, and the next moment Isane was falling unconscious into her mentor's waiting arms. Retsu bore the woman's weight without effort, lifting her over one shoulder and flash-stepping away from there. In seconds she had come upon one of the meditation gardens that were tended by her company in Seireitei. There was a small green island at the center of a stream, reached by a bridge. Crossing over the span, she settled her charge to rest on that secluded spot.

Unohana cast _Soul Tower_ around that place to protect the sleeping spirit before heading towards the heart of the Seireitei and the long-awaited triumph that lay there.

* * *

"Sit down and shut up. You're not going outside and that's final."

Karin glowered at the white-haired businessman sitting cross-legged on her couch. Spooky. That was the best word to describe him. He had the look of someone your parents would warn you not to go anywhere near. But her own father had insisted this man was trustworthy.

"BUT THE WORLD NEEDS ME!"

The other one she wouldn't trust to watch her lunchbox.

Don Kanonji looked the part of a defender of justice from the television shows, but his personality was as grating in person as she remembered. The two boys who had dragged him in here, Ichigo's friends Keigo and Mizuiro, had spent all their time since casting shame-faced looks at everyone else in the room, as if to apologize for foisting this goofball off on them.

The one-sided debate between the clown and the straight man continued, and as if sensing her thoughts, the taller girl seated on Karin's right raised her eyes from the booklet she was intent upon and murmured, "_Who's on second_?"

"Kunieda-chan, did you say something?" Michiru Ogawa was on the left, still clutching that big pink plushie toy. Karin didn't think any less of her for it. She had immediately taken a liking to the teenager when Not-Ichigo brought her in, probably because this girl reminded her a whole lot of her sister Yuzu. The absence of Yuzu's presence had been troubling her more than she realized, for the elder Kurosaki twin had latched onto the tiny high-schooler with almost embarrassing gratitude. Michiru seemed to appreciate the company, no matter the difference in their age.

"It's English, an old American gag," Karin supplied helpfully. "Two guys arguing about baseball, and all the players are named questions, so… well, it's confusing, but it's meant to be." She crossed her arms, tapping her foot. "I don't think this is very funny, though."

Don Kanonji spun about and pointed his finger at her. "You are right, _Li-Tu SisTAAAHH! _This is no time for staying put or playing safe! We must hasten out into the world and join our comrades in defending the defenseless! Or at the very least prepare to protect all the good souls currently under this roof. It is the duty of a Hero of JUSTICE!"

"Now, Kanonji-sama, you're just having a little bout of cabin fever. Please take a seat and have a glass of water, you'll cool down in no time."

Misato Ochi, the only grown woman in the group, certainly sounded sensible and reasonable. But considering the position she was in right now, it was hard to take her seriously. When Not-Ichigo had first come in with her draped over his shoulder, she had been scolding him crossly a mile a minute, and the look on her possessed brother's face had implied this had been going on for a while. However, Misato had left off her upbraiding lecture entitled 'How to Handle Women' after taking one look at Ishida (whom Karin privately referred to as 'Professor Whitey') and latched onto him with a girlish squeal.

The Professor had exhibited his first recognizable emotion at that time, looking distinctly annoyed. This irritation had slowly but perceptibly increased since then as Misato bombarded him with questions, apparently having recognized him on sight as the parent of another student in her class, gushing over some kind of 'family resemblance'. Currently she had her arms wrapped around Whitey's neck with her chest pressed against his arm in a most inappropriate manner. Was this woman really Ichigo's teacher?

"Um, Misato-sensei," Keigo Asano stammered, coming forward nervously. "You know, Kanonji-san does have a point. You don't really understand what's going on here, and we might want to look into…"

Her hand whipped out suddenly. "Here."

Blinking, Asano reached out and accepted the offering, which proved to be a small slip of paper. "What's this?"

"A detention notice," she shot back primly. "For contradicting teacher. To be put into effect as soon as this business is over."

The mournful-looking teen's mouth fell with an almost perceivable clang. "WHAT? But we're…!"

"Two detentions." Another notice flew through the air. "I can keep this up all day, and you won't have a free afternoon 'til you graduate high school. Is there anything else you'd like to discuss, Asano-kun?"

Apparently there wasn't, for the kid deflated into a miserable shell and trailed off under a cloud to slump down near Mizuiro, who consoled his ally in an equally friendly and insulting fashion. "You're a dope, Asano-san."

Kunieda Ryō shifted in her place where they sat around the tankobon table. "I really must have lost my mind," she drawled. "I can't seem to get away from comedy duos today."

Karin knew that she was referring to the pair of outrageously-dressed men that had brought her here about half an hour past. When her father had opened the door, he didn't seem surprised to be confronted by identical twin muscle-slabs attired in the garb of traditional Chinese guards. They both looked fierce enough to qualify for that post, but their tendency to talk at the same time tended to lessen the intimidation factor.

She had been speechless at their appearance, recognizing them as ghosts of some kind, but the furious-looking teenager held between them was definitely alive. Isshin Kurosaki had accepted the goons' shouted explanation of 'not being able to swiftly return to Shiba Castle for fear of attracting the Scylla's attention' and had gladly accepted Kunieda into their home. The apes departed soon after, bowing and expressing an almost humiliating gratitude to her smiling parent. Since then, their house had been converted into some kind of aid shelter for anyone still remaining in the otherwise deserted Karakura Town. Not-Ichigo had brought several people, most of them apparently from Karakura High. The place was getting just a little crowded; and, after Professor Whitey had shown up and her father had entrusted them all to his protection before lighting out, much less comfortable.

Still, at least they were all alive.

And right on cue, a pall of doom descended upon them.

Nice timing, the girl thought with a sigh.

Professor Whitey shot up from his seat, up-ending Misato in the process.

"Ishida-san…!"

"They're coming," he murmured.

"Indeed, you are correct!" Don Kanonji uttered, putting one foot up on the coffee table and posing with one hand at his ear. "I can feel the presence of… _BAD SUPI-RITSU!"_

"W-what's going on?" Michiru whimpered, cringing in on herself.

"I'm going outside," Ishida Ryūken stated calmly, withdrawing a star-shaped ornament from his coat pocket. "The rest of you stay here. Don't venture outdoors for any reason until I come back. You'll die if you do." When the flamboyantly-dressed TV star seemed about to protest, Ishida fixed him with a look that seemed to strike the other man instantly dumb. Satisfied, he then moved off towards the front door.

"HEY!" Karin yelled and sprang up in pursuit.

Standing at the exit, the pale physician paused. When she came to stand beside him, he looked at her in a way that just screamed condescension. It made her blood run hot with anger.

"We want to help!"

"Not all of us!" Keigo screamed from his position cowering under the table.

"There is nothing you can do here," Ryūken spoke flatly. "No sense being foolhardy. Just let me protect you. I promised your father that I would. Don't make either of us regret that."

"Hey." Kunieda had stood up with her novel dangling from one hand. "I don't know what any of this means, but seeing is believing, in my book. We're about to be invaded by monsters, right? I don't want to sit around doing nothing. Isn't there any way we can be of help?"

"I agree. It doesn't have to be fighting, per se," her teacher Ochi mused thoughtfully as she walked up, swinging her arms back and forth. "We could act as a diversion of sorts. You know, maybe Keigo-kun and Mizuiro-kun can dress up in women's clothes and do a little dance to distract the enemy's attention?"

"THAT'S A TERRIBLE IDEA!"

"I don't know, Asano-san, the sight of you in a dress would probably make those ghosts pause for at least a second. It would be so strikingly hideous that…"

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU, MIZUIRO!"

But Ishida was having none of this. "Listen to me. You'll be safe inside. Before I came, I spent some time setting up defenses around this house. It would take a great deal of strength to break through, but I don't doubt there are enemies out there who can do just that. All of this will be for nothing if you just wander outside the boundaries."

"I don't care about staying safe," Karin insisted spiritedly. "I've fought these things before, you know."

"Not like this." He knelt down, seeming to recognize the need to speak to her on a more even keel. "The things coming this way aren't like the weak Hollows you and that idiot Kanonji have been picking off. I know you're probably the most spiritually-advanced person in this group, so you must have felt that creature who came sniffing around before I came. Am I right?"

The memory of that ferocious madness caused her ardor to dampen somewhat, but sheer stubbornness refused to allow her to give up that easily. "I'm not scared of them."

"Don't lie. It's a bad habit for a girl, and insults both of us." Reaching up, the erstwhile parent laid a hand on her small shoulder. "You're brave enough to fight, I don't question it. But I can't work at full effectiveness if I'm worrying about whether or not you're safe. That's a cruel thing to do to me, to say nothing of your own father. He went to confront the heart of this disease we're facing, but he could only do that when he felt certain you would be safe. Are you really going to ignore his feelings in favor of your own?"

Karin hated being reasoned with, even if it showed someone respected you enough to do so. "I just…" and she had to fight very hard not to let the tears show, "I don't want to lose anybody."

"Hey, now," Ochi spoke softly, crouching down with them. "Nobody's going to die. And kids shouldn't be worrying about something like that anyway. Let the grownups protect you until you don't need it anymore. It's what we're in your life for."

By this time Karin could see that whatever she said or did, it wouldn't make any difference. As frustrating as that may be, there was a certain comfort in knowing that people were willing to defend you.

"Okay," she finally managed. "I'll stay here. But you had better not let us down, jii-san!" Then she turned and marched back into the living area. "C'mon, let's see about dressing up those two dorks in girls' clothes, just in case it comes to that."

"HEY!"

"What is this, a Shakespeare play?" Mizuiro sighed.

Ryūken stood up with a frown. "_Jii_-san?" he muttered sourly.

"Oh, she's just feisty. You know kids." Misato removed her glasses and regarded him with her head tilted to one side. "So are you really going to have to do some fighting?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Oh." She polished her spectacles and put them back on. "Well, don't get anything pulled off that you'll need on our date. I want to make you mine when this is over."

Suddenly nervous, the Last Quincy wished dearly for a cigarette to help him deal with this situation. But Misato must have been more perceptive than he thought, for she just grinned at him and went trotting off humming to take charge of the children under their care, dragging Don Kanonji along by the collar of his cape.

The feel of the approaching Hollows took precedence then, and Ishida quickly stepped outside, forming his silver bow in preparation.

After fighting my heritage for so long, it's actually come to this. Father, wherever you are, I hope you appreciate how much this rankles me.

Without another thought for his own feelings, the Quincy leapt straight up to land on the roof and looked off at the horizon, where a dark mass of wicked spirits was heading in his direction.

* * *

_Look. It's happening._

I see it.

From her position, Yoruichi was able to bear witness as the armies of Hueco Mundo at last met the Gotei 13 in battle.

As the two opposing powers clashed, she felt all sense of individual soul responses being swept away under the blanket of carnage. Composed of hate, fear, and death, it all washed over her in a hot wind. It was like being enveloped in a tide of blood, allowing her to be aware of no one but herself.

Clutching her zanpakutō, she trembled at the realization of the long-awaited war of souls.

_You knew it would happen. Besides, we can use this as cover. There's no other way, so try to show a little backbone, why don't you?_

Quiet. I have to contact Kūkaku.

Exhaling quietly, she brought the tips of her fingers together. Black lines like tattoos already wound up and down the brown skin of her arms. "Bakudō 77: Tenteikūra."

In spite of the interference from the pitched battle at her back, along with the monstrous creatures settling in at the heart of Seireitei, the connection went through as quickly as before.

"_Yourichi?"_

"_Right here. You safe in your hidey-hole?"_

"_The old family mansion's still standing. Nobody's going to intrude on us. It's started, hasn't it?"_

"_I have a clear view from where I am. The Gate is still opening, but all the major villains are milling around it now. We've got time before that happens."_

"_Good, because we're going to need it. This incantation takes the better part of an hour to recite. Lucky for us the final chant can be delayed for as long as we need to."_

"_So then you got it?"_

"_Yup. Your man delivered the item right on schedule."_

"_And you're certain it's the real deal?"_

"_You wouldn't ask if you'd touched it. Yoruichi, it's incredible. How did they ever think of making something like this, anyway?"_

"_It's a miracle, to be sure."_

"_No, what's miraculous is that freak was actually true to his word. Where is he, anyway?"_

"_Maybe right behind you."_

"_Well, you're certainly in a chipper mood, considering all we're facing."_

There was silence for a while.

"_How does it look?"_

She turned her head to inspect the warzone.

"_It's bad, but things could be much worse. The Hollows don't have as much help from behind enemy lines as they thought they would. Before I called, I got in touch with the clean ones, let them in on what was happening."_

"_How'd they take it?"_

"_Considering what they've lost today, better than you might think. I'm kind of proud of them, actually. They're off doing what needs to be done right now. We're lucky, though. Some new recruits popped up from out of the blue. Because of them I was able to convince the fat one not to try and take on any of Aizen's little sneaks. He's gone to see to fighting in the Northern Rukongai instead."_

"_New recruits? Anybody I know?"_

"_Not likely. They're all Hollows."_

"_Pardon me?"_

"_Yeah, one's a former Espada too. Our odds have gone up considerably in the last few minutes, especially since it looks like the most powerful of those traitors has done an about-face on King Aizen. He's heading towards the main concentration of the Hollow lines as we speak, and I don't think he's in the mood for thoughtful deliberation."_

"_Don't expect me to believe you planned any of this."_

"_Our style is to be adaptive, not plan everything out to the last tiny detail._ _That's partly why it's always been us against them."_

"_If Kisuke weren't a freaky genius, you wouldn't have a prayer of winning like that." _

"_Shouldn't you be getting back to that incantation now?"_

"_Well, I suppose I could. But how can you be certain Aizen's only going to leave one of them behind?"_

"_He can't afford to leave more than that, considering what they're facing. It's a risk with even one. If things start to look grim, he can call it through the portal as a reserve. Trust me, Kisuke's given this a lot of thought. It's the only way Takuiyoku could reasonably protect his flank and be prepared for any surprises Zero Squad might have in store."_

"_Takuiyoku… still can't believe one of them is alive. It explains so much. Who else would hate the Seireitei as much as them?"_

"_You think that's bad? It turns out the traitor was Unohana."_

Another pall fell over the conversation.

"_I know. Sucks to be us, huh?"_

"_Sweet divine monkey balls, I never suspected her for a second! I thought it was Kyōraku and Ukitake together."_

"_She already made short work of those two. I felt it happen. She took them apart."_

"_That's sick." _

"_Agreed. So, about that binding…"_

"_I know, I'm on it. Don't worry, this is part of our legacy. There shouldn't be a problem, as long as I can keep that little redhead from trying to play grab-ass with me."_

"_Don't understand, but it sounds fun."_

"_We just picked up some strays, is all. A few girls from Ichigo's group. One of them can't keep her hands off me. Koganehiko and Shiragonehiko are sitting on the other one to keep her quiet, and we picked up a third who won't stop grilling Ganju. No big deal."_

"_Funny. I thought all the humans were supposed to be evacuated."_

"_Apparently those with a certain amount of spiritual energy above and beyond the normal pale got left behind. We've been gathering up all of them and hiding them behind a barrier. Same at Kurosaki's house. Still, I have to wonder why so many of these girls are spiritually aware."_

"_You can ask Urahara about it afterwards. He's got some ideas."_

"_That's it, just assume we're going to make it through."_

"_Remember, after Sōsuke and the rest leave this plane, we wait for the signal."_

"_You mean we wait for Ichigo."_

"_Believe in us, Kūkaku. We know what we're doing."_

"_Then you won't be surprised when nobody thanks you for it."_

"_No. But I'll probably be dead by then."_

"_Yoruichi… I hate when you talk like that. I don't want you to die!"_

"_It's all part of our plan. I never intended to live forever. And this is as good enough a reason to die as any. I've made all the necessary arrangements."_

"_Including Byakuya?"_

The golden-eyed shape-shifter closed her eyes.

"_Goodbye, Lady Shiba. Love you."_

"_Goodbye, Lady Shihoin. I'll miss you."_

And with that she deactivated the spell.

Yoruichi settled back and turned her face skywards, keeping her eyes closed. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, and it was terribly good. So much she never wanted it to end.

But there was no one else who could do this.

_You'll always have me. Right up to the end. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried._

You cocky beast. Did I mention I felt lost without you?

_Just don't leave me behind this time, okay? I'm sick of feeling all his grief._

I promise. Wherever I go, you will too.

Both stopped talking then, master and blade turning their attention on what was transpiring around them.

The conspiracy of one hundred years unfolded.

* * *

"Lay down your arms!" Lieutenant Kira commanded the shocked shinigami that surrounded him. "There is no choice but to surrender. You will be spared if you give yourselves over to my custody now."

"Don't listen to him!" an officer from the Seventh screamed. "What are you standing around for, we have to avenge the capta…!"

Izuru streaked over in a blur and clocked him in the forehead with his sword handle. The brash youngster slumped limply to his knees and collapsed to one side. His attacker had flashed back to where he had been standing over the prostrate Captain Komamura before anyone could even think to intercede between them.

"The other captains have all fallen," he proclaimed to the sea of incredulous faces. "Yamamoto is no more. The only power that exists now is that of Captain Aizen. The shinigami will follow his example and join with the Hollow Nation, and he will rule over us all, as the new King of Soul Society."

It rather hurt to see the way so many of them were looking at him. They were actually making him feel… guilty. Had the lesser shinigami truly held me in such high regard that my betrayal would stun them so? Kira had always thought they resented him. Perhaps it was simply the idea of a lieutenant laying low a captain that was causing them such obvious discomfort. Yes, that was probably it. Their opinion of me had nothing to do with it. I mustn't take my feelings into account here. I've done what was asked of me.

_Pay it no mind. You're all that matters here. If only you had let me in on this sooner, it would have been such a relief._

You had to be kept in the dark. It was part of Ichimaru-taichou's strategy. You're… not upset with me are you?

_Not at all. I am proud of you. I had no idea you were so sure of yourself, Kira. You always seemed so fatalistic, but now we see there are numerous possibilities for you. In life, in prospects, in love, even. You can have any of them you want, you know. Hinamori, Matsumoto, even Kuchiki if you so desire her._

Wabisuke, I never knew you were such a lecher.

_Forgive me. I am simply so happy for you. It's making me feel… I don't know. Hopeful? Anxious, but in a good way. I can't wait for your new life to start, Izuru._

Well… thank you, I suppose. You're more than welcome to share in it.

As he was thinking this, a few of the ranking death gods began to edge towards him, weapons drawn and clearly hostile.

Again? The nobleman glared at them dismally. Do I really have to deal with some idiots charging me again? Why don't you see that it's all futile? There's nothing left to fight for. Don't force me to kill you and have your ghosts hanging around me as well.

Perhaps another demonstration was in order.

His feet tapped over the ground, swifter than a hummingbird's wings. Wabisuke licked out just as fast. Whether their eyes could follow him or not made no difference, for clearly their bodies couldn't. This was proven when every one of those belligerent shinigami collapsed to the ground, clutching weapons that had become unnaturally heavy.

Now there was no mistaking the expression they all gave him. It was naked fright.

I'm trying to save all their lives. Can't any of them see that?

To his relief, it looked like several of them were about to follow his advice and start sheathing their swords. Well, this might prove to be a bloodless affair after a…

"Excuse US! PARDON me! Coming THROUGH, here!"

What?

"Clear a path, don'tcha know! Important business coming through!"

Confused murmurs came forth. Turning his head slightly, Izuru saw a commotion in the ranks behind him. Mixed in with it was something he was having difficulty recognizing. That spiritual taint… it was almost like…

As he was thinking this, a hole swiftly opened up in their ranks. Shinigami from Third seat on down gaped in horror and amazement as three individuals came walking towards them.

One of them was easily recognizable as Sentarō Kotsubaki, co-Third seat of Division Thirteen. He wore a scowl that was much less comical and more angry than Kira was used to seeing, and he appeared to have been crying. The tear marks were still visible on his cheeks.

The other two were Hollows judging by their soul signature. _Arrancar_, to be precise. Most of the death gods present had never seen one, and this combined with the fact that they were traveling accompanied by a ranked officer apparently kept the pair from being set upon and slaughtered. One of them was bald, squat and heavy-looking, with huge hands and feet that were rather pale and clunky-looking. The other was skinny as a reed with shoulder-length blond hair and seemed to be missing his left eye. Both were stripped down to a loincloth, exposing their muscular frames. Each of them had severe facial scarring that left one loathe to look at them directly for very long. Another trait they shared was that, in spite of being _arrancar_, neither was sporting any mask remnants to be seen. And on top of that, they were both unarmed. Curious.

Not to mention dangerous. Their power was nothing to sneer at. Just what was this? Another of Aizen-sama's plans?

"ATTENTION ALL FIGHTERS IN THE AREA!" Kotsubaki barked, red-faced and practically steaming. "By my authority as Third seat of Squad Thirteen, I am relieving Izuru Kira of his rank and placing him under arrest! You are to proceed with military operations as previously stated!"

Several people fidgeted uncertainly, but Kira wasn't one to rest on his laurels. "Sentarō-san," the flaxen-haired renegade spoke calmly, "Don't go confusing them. You have neither the power nor the authority to impede me. Don't force me to make an example of you. Go on back to your division and brew some tea, it will help settle your nerves."

The other man looked so furious at the suggestion his head might have exploded. But it was his strangely-dressed comrades who stepped forward in answer to that threat.

"Actually, Izuru-san," the lanky one spoke in a crisp, easy tone, "the only one in danger here is you."

His cohort trundled up, looking like a barrel with arms and legs. "Yeah. Considerin' everything Ichimaru-taichou let slip 'bout you in our hearing, I wouldn't advise pickin' no fights with us, yo."

Kira glared at the pair, frowning. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Who, us?" the bulky one looked at his scar-faced partner for confirmation.

"We're men of good faith," that figure responded.

"Yeah, don'tcha know."

"And unlike you, Izuru-san, we make no secret of where our loyalties lie."

"Since we're here, maybe you'd like to keep us entertained? We're wild about games, yo. What wouldja like to play?"

There was chattering coming from all around him now. Kira felt his grip on the situation swiftly loosening. He couldn't permit these malcontents, whoever they might prove to be, to encourage his soldiers to throw their lives away in fruitless combat.

_Perhaps you should show them all what will become of them if they try._

Excellent suggestion.

Sentarō never saw the kick that sent him crashing into the front rank of assembled shinigami. Before he had traveled a few feet, though, Izuru was already bringing his weapon down upon the closest of the Hollow fighters, the large one. The _arrancar_ gazed dully at him and opened his mouth. But they were too close, and there was no time to charge up a Cero. Poor combat technique. You brought it on yourself, the lieutenant lamented silently.

Instinct alone saved him, as something long and black sprang from the Hollow's gaping jaws. Bringing up Wabisuke, he caught the attack on its edge, hearing something clang with a mild impact. Kira sprang lightly back to assess the situation.

As his feet came down, his knees buckled, and the astonished fighter found himself almost pitching forward onto his face. At the last second, he managed to brace himself firmly, winding up only bowed at the waist.

_Kira. I'm stuck._

What?

Disbelieving, he looked up. There appeared to be a tongue extending out of the brawny creature's mouth, but even as the idea came to him, he watched it spit the slimy cord out. That glistening line proved to be a chain with huge elliptical links. The front part of it was hanging off of Wabisuke. Not even wrapped around it, just dangling there, as though stuck to his weapon.

And suddenly Kira knew what had happened. It was the weakness of his soul cutter, one that few knew about because he kept his ability such a closely-guarded secret. Somehow that chain had affixed itself to his zanpakutō. And as soon as it did, the power of Wabisuke automatically made those links heavier, and heavier, until they were so heavy from the prolonged contact that he could no longer hold them up and they slammed to the ground, taking his sword with them.

HOW?

"_Infinite Sticky_," the skinny one supplied, apparently reading his shocked expression. "The second of my special abilities. It bonds two items together and makes it difficult to separate them. We suspected you would be gung-ho in attacking us with your gravity saber. But neither of us wanted to lose our own weapons to rob you of yours."

"Good thing _Santa Teresa _changed back to normal after that miserable shit died," his lumpy partner responded in turn. "Gave us a chance to harvest that length of chain it was attached to, which meant we could attack you from any distance we wanted, short or long." He coughed suddenly, rubbing his throat. "But it certainly didn't taste good."

"At least he swung at it right away and didn't dodge. Ichimaru-san always said he was aggressive about disarming his opponents. Just be glad I coated your throat with _Infinite Slick _before you swallowed it, otherwise it would've gotten stuck in there." The slender fighter held out a hand. "Anyway, cough up Ultima, would you?"

At this command, a sword handle came out of his partner's mouth and flew towards him. He caught it, and a beam of blue light extended out from it. A mace followed after, until both Hollows now stood armed before their opponent.

Appraising the situation, Lieutenant Kira calmly let go of his sword, allowing it to hit the dirt with a dismal thud.

_Change me back to sealed form. The effect will disappear._

You'd still have the chain attached to you. And once I unsealed you, it would happen all over again.

_What if you…_

I won't run away. This is a fight I brought upon myself.

_Damn him. That goddamn bastard Ichimaru. He must have told them how to defeat you, I hate him so much. I warned you about trusting him, Kira. _

No more words, now. Please.

"Kotsubaki-san!" the sword-wielding _arrancar _called, his scarred lips twisting around the words while never taking his single yellow eye off of Kira. "Please see to leading the rest of these troops into battle. My brother and I will deal with this serpent in your ranks."

Sentarō had recovered from the attack and was now on his feet, supported by several other black-robed fighters. "Yes, Pesche-san." He turned to regard the other officers present. "You there! Don't just stand around, move Captain Komamura out of harm's way! Then regroup with the rest of us! The enemy is on the march!"

They obeyed him without hesitation. Watching them all scurrying around the cleared space in which he stood, Izuru made no move to prevent them from removing the dog-headed fighter away from there. That one made no more difference anyway. In fact, none of them did. What matter that they were going off to die? He had tried to persuade them, and his efforts had been met with scorn and resentment. Fine, then. Have it your way. Go and die, all of you, see if I care.

You bastards.

Why don't you understand? It didn't have to be like this.

I would have let you live.

The unmasked Hollows advanced on him. No one else moved to offer him aid or otherwise interfere. Curse you, you fallen souls, Kira thought. It's all because of you. I will not die here. Not to you. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

_Kira. You're crying._

He ignored this. Ignored everything outside of his furiously pounding heart, and the fear that made his knees tremble. I once heard these are the same symptoms for falling in love. But I don't know whom I am in love with.

Doesn't matter anyway.

They were bearing down upon him. The fukutaichou's palm came up. Each of them sprang to either side as Kira Izuru snarled out a deadly curse, voice quivering with fury.

"_Hadō #88: Flying Dragon-Striking Heaven-Shaking Thunder Cannon!"_

A roar of electricity, followed by an explosion of earth and stone. This was the last the escaping crowd of shinigami saw of this battle. They had already dismissed all interest in their former officer's life, in favor of their own.

* * *

The Kenpachi was feeling ready to rend the world apart with his bare hands, he was so enraged. And this building storm of fury was made even more violent by the fact that it was rendered completely impotent.

They were alone now. Him, the sleeping Yachiru, and the filthy traitor holding her hostage. The rest of his men had not needed to be told where their true duty lay. All of them had seen the enemy armies coming down upon them, and gone to do what their commander was no longer capable of. Hisagi Shuhei had not attempted to dissuade them. Apparently his orders only involved subduing the captain, and did not include his men. This could indicate a disdain on Aizen's part for anyone below the rank of lieutenant, or simply for Zaraki's crew specifically. Like they were too dumb to possibly have an impact on the battle.

He would have resented that, if his brain was in any condition to make the connection. But the only thing flowing through that battle-monger's head was a stream of images showing everything he wanted to do to that tattooed shit and his precious sickles. That, and the even more pressing image of Yachiru having her throat cut as a result. Or being blown to bits.

You're dead, he promised Hisagi with his eyes. No way out for you.

Across the way, the disgraced lieutenant shuddered in response, but Kazeshini's edge did not waver from its spot near the girl's jugular. He kept his back pressed against the wall of a building. There was a noticeable sheen of sweat on his skin, and it looked like he wanted to wipe it off to keep it from dripping down into his eyes. Every time it looked like he was going to do so, Zaraki imagined killing him with a blow to the throat and yanking Yachiru away before the kamikaze bomb could go off.

And even if she dies at least I got to kill the basta...

The thought came unbidden. To punish himself for it, the giant clenched a fist and smashed himself right in the nose like he was crushing a walnut.

Blood was flowing into his mouth now, causing his fighting tendencies to thrill up and down his spine. Hisagi looked sickened by the self-mutilation. But the pain had actually served to clear Zaraki's head a little.

I think I just came up with a way out of this.

"Y'know something, Hisagi?"

The sound of his voice caused the misfit shinigami to flinch, arousing in Shuhei a comparison to a metal saw grating through bone.

"I told you not to talk, Taichou."

"I've been telling myself that story about a bomb in your belly is bullshit," Zaraki continued, smiling in a distinctly shark-like fashion. His hand came down and clasped hold of his nameless zanpakutō.

"You'll regret thinking that in a few seconds, I assure you, Zaraki Kenpachi."

With slow, deliberate care, the big fighter began to withdraw his blade. He relished the sound it made now more than ever.

"Cuz everybody knows you're a pussy who don't even like killing."

Hisagi's scarred eyelid twitched at the insult.

"But y'know something else?"

The weapon came completely out of its scabbard with a hiss.

"I think you really would do it, wouldn't ya? Blow a little kid up, I mean. That's the sorta guy you've always been at heart, ain't it?"

A glare was his only response.

"You like it when your opponent's helpless, right? When you've maybe cut off their arms and legs and they can't get away, it gets your rocks off, watching 'em scream and piss themselves. Right before you chop 'em to pieces. Then you whine about how bad it made you feel in the bars afterwards, to make the ladies wanna comfort you. Am I right?"

Hisagi's jaw was clenched so tight he couldn't speak to deny the accusation if he wished it.

But he didn't need to. Zaraki had always been an apt study of human character.

"So how's about we make a deal."

That seemed to catch his enemy's attention. "What kind of deal?" he asked warily.

And Kenpachi Zaraki chuckled.

"You're only supposed to keep me from fighting, right? So instead of holding Yachiru hostage, howzabout I let you kill me?"

Those sneaky little eyes went big as a chameleon's.

"WHAT?"

"Take my head off." The maniac held out his arms, grinning and feeling quite pleased with himself. "Then you let her go, and afterwards you can chop your dick off to atone or whatever you think will make you feel better. It's a win-win situation!"

Hisagi's skin had gone white at the implication. He licked his lips and coughed before seeming to master his obvious indecision. "You… can't mean that. I won't be tricked by you, Zaraki-taichou. You're simply trying to make me lower me guard."

"Is that right?" And that hideous ogre grinned so big it looked like it would split his face open. "Then maybe I'll just do it myself and lop my own head free. Then there wouldn't be any doubts, right?"

Judging by the way the little creep was looking at him, he clearly thought the Kenpachi must have lost his mind. Or that he didn't really intend to go through with it.

But you know something?

Zaraki did.

He had realized that this was the only way he could be certain Yachiru wouldn't be killed. Knowing himself as well as he did, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't snap at some point and just go for Hisagi's throat. And then she would be dead. Didn't matter what happened after that. His little girl wouldn't be breathing. And an outcome like that just plain sucked, no matter how you sliced it.

"Lemme show you what I mean."

This was the only way.

And when he flipped his chipped, battered sword and caught it backhand in preparation to swing, the flabbergasted lieutenant finally realized that Zaraki had meant every word of it. Immediately there came an impulse to leap forward and stop this madness before it could go too far.

_Screw that noise, Hisagi! He wants to die so bad, let him do it!_

But… this isn't what we planned. There was always a chance that… no one had to die.

_What are you, everybody's Mother? You can't protect people from themselves. This is his choice, and it's a damn good one, if you ask me!_

But…

Zaraki laughed then, baring his fangs wide. "Be sure to tell her I said, 'Bye'!"

And the suicide swung towards his thick neck.

Hisagi saw it happening, though he could still hardly believe it.

I'm… going to live after all.

It made him feel…

"TAICHOU!"

There was a clash of steel, followed by a wash of two soul powers colliding together.

Hisagi stared in disbelief.

So did Zaraki.

And standing before the astonished captain, Tetsuzaemon Iba grimaced.

The lieutenant of Squad Seven had his knife out and interposed with the dull side against Kenpachi's throat, blocking the deadly stroke that would have surely decapitated him otherwise. His arms were trembling at having attempted to stop the blow in midair. All the same, the block-haired brawler sighed in relief.

"Glad I made it in time," he rasped. "That was a pretty reckless move, even for you, Taichou."

"The fuck?" his former boss grunted while narrowing an eye. "You in on this asshole's game, too?"

Iba drew himself up straight with an air of wounded pride. "No, sir! As a former officer under your command, I simply felt the need to point out to the captain you are guilty of dereliction of duty!"

"Duty?" And Kenpachi reached down with his free hand, snagging a handful of black robes and lifting the lieutenant up to dangle before his face. "What the hell are you yapping about?"

Even in this position, Komamura's Second seat kept his face stiff and proper.

"_Zaraki-taichou!_ If you would, please tell me! What is Rule #1 in the Eleventh Division?"

Kenpachi's face grew confused for a second as he gazed down upon his prodigal underling. Then it became thoughtful.

" '_Never surrender'._"

"Precisely, Taichou." Squirming a little, Iba managed to extricate himself and fall back to solid ground. Coming to his feet, he tucked his slim zanpakutō back into its sheathe. "And in spite of what you might think, this affair is not a foregone conclusion."

With that, he turned and frowned over at where Hisagi watched them both warily. There was a new and more menacing tone to the Yakuza lookalike's voice now.

"There is something I would like to discuss with my delinquent comrade."

With little Kusajishi still held securely under his left arm, the spikey-haired shinigami offered him no sign of self-reproach in any way. "Whatever you have to say, Iba-san, do it quickly and leave. Your presence here is not necessary."

Slowly, then, so as not to alarm anyone, Iba reached up and removed his trademark sunglasses. To the surprise of virtually all, there proved to be tears building up in his black eyes. They slid down that stoic executioner's face without any effort to prevent them.

"You should know, before anything else happens, that I always considered you a worthy adversary, Hisagi-san. Both in combat and in terms of our hearts. I knew how much your captain always meant to you, and the distress his betrayal evoked within you. It hurt me to see the pain his inconsiderate abandonment caused. Yours was ever the part of a loyal officer."

His counterpart hadn't moved a muscle. Zaraki too appeared to be mesmerized by the normally taciturn combatant's words.

"However, in spite of the deep and abiding respect I held for you," their lecturer continued, "I could never bring myself to fully trust you. Maybe it was your shameless attempts to curry favor with your captain by accepting his prissy 'I-hate-fighting' doctrine…"

Hisagi flinched, looking at his old friend in stunned amazement.

"… or maybe it was your fawning over a certain golden-haired lieutenant whenever you were in your cups…"

The other man's expression went red with embarrassment. "You…!"

"… or perhaps my contempt owes simply to that sorry excuse for tattoos you consented to wear in an attempt to appear more manly, which I might add was a cheap rip-off of the much worthier captain who came before your own, in case you weren't aware…"

"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH, IBA!"

"… though it might be because I always knew you were just a foaming-mouthed dog who had been whipped often enough even he believed he was domesticated."

Tetsuzaemon had lit a cigarette by this point. Languorously inhaling, he breathed out a wreath of smoke and watched it ascend into heaven.

"But that's not it. The real reason I never felt I could fully rely on you was simply because… you never gave me the credit that was my due. You don't know what it means… to be a man."

Shuhei now looked as vicious as Zaraki had been only moments past, ready to fling himself forward and behead his talkative nemesis. He was inarticulate with rage, spitting and frothing savagely.

Facing down that picture of shamed mania, Iba calmly hoisted his shades back up onto his face, hiding his eyes.

"Did you know that prior to joining the Seventh, I was briefly a member of the Kidō Corps? It didn't really suit me, and everybody laughed back in the Eleventh, but I was looking for any open lieutenant positions that were available. While I was there, they taught me some interesting tricks."

He took a drag on his cigarette.

The burning end flared, and as it did, Shuhei's right arm exploded halfway between wrist and elbow.

Hisagi gaped, watching in disbelief as his severed appendage fell towards the ground, still clutching one of Kazeshini's blades.

Before he could make a move, Kiyone Kotetsu appeared beside him. Grabbing hold of Yachiru still held loosely in his grip, she dragged her free and sped swiftly away, racing down the street.

At this point Hisagi dropped to his knees, drew in a deep breath and screamed as loud as he possibly could.

It was the sound of a wounded animal, raw and totally devoid of anything but pain, and it made Zaraki's ears prick up. With newfound eagerness he started towards the howling invalid who was now clutching his bleeding stump and sobbing in the dirt.

"Wait, Taichou!" Tetsuzaemon spoke as he swiftly intervened between them. "There's no time!"

"There's always time for THIS!" Kenpachi bellowed and proceeded to surge forward.

Tetsuzaemon hauled off and punched him in the jaw.

While it did more harm to him than it did Zaraki, it certainly got the berserker's attention. For all the good that did.

"The Hollows!" Lieutenant Iba shouted desperately as that bloodthirsty madman turned his sights on him. "You have to go stop them! Your troops need to see that they're not fighting an impossible fight! They need YOU to show that to them! You're the Man Who Will Not DIE, dammit! No one else is better suited for dealing with what's happening out there. Leave this bastard to me and just GO!"

It was hard to tell if his words were reaching anything inside that bullet-shaped head. But they seemed to be giving him pause.

"I'm your man, Captain Zaraki," he breathed. "I always will be, no matter where I'm transferred. I'm one of the Eleventh forever. So please, for the insult that was done to you and our lieutenant, please allow me the honor of dealing with this wretch!"

Kenpachi stared down at him, the sword clenched tight in one great meat-grinder of a fist.

Then a particularly loud explosion sounded off in the distance where the fighting was taking place.

A baleful yellow eye turned in the direction of that carnage. The most unwholesome of smiles stretched his lips, and his tongue flicked out as though almost tasting the spray of blood from a dismembered Hollow. Without further ado, the mightiest fighter in all the Seireitei ripped off his eyepatch and charged towards the war that was his lifeblood, burning with power and laughing all the way.

Iba came back about to confront Hisagi. Down on his knees, the man was panting and gasping. But still he managed to raise his head and fix the fukutaichou with a wild-eyed stare.

"Sleeping kidō," was Tetsuzaemon's reply to the unspoken question. "Remember after the lieutenant's conclave broke up and we all went off to prepare for war? I stopped you outside the hall. We clasped hands, and I murmured what I told you was a prayer to the goddess of Fortune. But in reality, I was inscribing a spell onto your forearm, just in case."

He flicked away the smoldering nub of his cigarette. "And no, if you're curious, I didn't know you were a traitor beforehand. Not until Yoruichi-sama contacted me a little while ago. But I did know that I didn't fully trust you. You were always too damned devoted to pleasing Captain Tosen. Even when it conflicted with your own beliefs, you made them take a backseat to his convictions, because you believed him to be strong. Only my captain always knew he was a coward at heart, and wasn't afraid to let anyone else know it. That's why Kaname hated him so much. Kira never would have been taken in by my little mumbling act, and as for Hinamori…" He sighed dismally. "Well, I guess I just couldn't bring myself to believe it about her. Maybe that makes me a fool."

"But at the very least," and once more the dagger was in his hand, gleaming brightly and eager to carve into his opponent's flesh, "I was never the sort of inhuman _dog_ who would threaten a _child!"_

Hisagi snarled like the animal in question. There was no longer anything remotely resembling restraint in his face. Reaching down, he snatched up the fallen sickle-blade and slapped it against his truncated limb. Kazeshini's chains wound around and under the weapon's shaft, anchoring it to that stump. He grabbed one length of chain between his teeth and tugged back viciously, tightening it down.

Then with a shriek the maddened fighter staggered upright, now once more boasting two curved implements of death on either arm. The sound of his heartbeat was thundering along in time to the voice of his soul cutter.

_KILL HIM, HISAGI! KILL-HIM-KILL-HIM-KILL-HIM-KIIIIILLLLL!_

Across from him, his one-time rival in love smirked as Iba's own battle-hunger rose to the fore.

The lieutenant flung off his shades, a bloodthirsty smile lighting up his face as he hoisted his shikai.

"Now, show me the strength of a mad dog's determination, and I'll show you the strength of a MAN'S!"

With roars of equal ferocity, the two destined enemies drove in on each other, fighting with all their hearts and souls.

* * *

"Unohana."

Uryū stared at the laboratory floor, still shocked by what his brain had teased out.

For her part, Nemu was busy bustling around the laboratory. The other inhabitant of that room, the now bodiless Mayuri Kurotsuchi, had apparently fallen to seething silently inside the tub where his remains were now contained.

"She's the one who created you, along with Mayuri." The Quincy ran his hands through his hair in an effort to try and calm himself. It felt like his brain might explode at the enormity of the implications contained therein. "I never really thought about it, but there is a sort of resemblance between you two. Even the way you wear your hair! Good lord… does that mean…?"

"Unohana-sama did not contribute any of her own soul material to my development." Nemu spoke as she moved around the room, consulting instruments and adjusting their functions. "My physical construction was largely parthenogenic, deriving almost entirely from Mayuri-sama. It was not in her best interest to allow him to study her nature too closely."

The idea that Unohana and Mayuri might have… done _that _together had almost poleaxed him. But to find it wasn't true allowed blissful normalcy to come back into his world. Except for one thing.

"What do you mean, 'Not in her best interest'?"

She didn't even stop to look at him before replying. "Unohana Retsu is transforming into a Hollow. She is seeking a means to prevent that from transpiring."

Oh.

"_WHAT?"_ Ishida fairly screeched.

Nemu remained focused on her endeavors. "Yes," she murmured, gazing impassively down at her hands. "This information was not present in me until recently. She wished for me to explain to Mayuri-sama after I nullified him as to the reasoning behind it. While the other captains are having their power stripped of them by certain lieutenants in her service as we speak, he alone was considered worthy of protection. But at the same time, considering his mercurial disposition, it was not considered wise to try and include Captain Kurotsuchi in the preparations for Soul Society's downfall. Afterwards, however, he will be afforded all honors that are his due."

This was getting just a little too complicated morally. Ishida found himself wishing for the bullheaded simplicity of someone like Kurosaki to help him clear out the cobwebs in his head. That one certainly wouldn't need to think about the finer points of intellectual soul-searching.

Uryū was feeling somewhat ridiculous just standing there in the center of the room, but right now there was nothing more reasonable to do. At least until he had some more information to go by.

"Nemu-san, can you briefly explain to me the cause of all this?"

She paused, apparently giving his request some thought. Those jade eyes had gone distant for a moment.

Then she went back to inputting information into a distressingly organic-looking computer.

"Unohana-sama seeks to destroy the Gotei 13's power base along with the rule of the King of Soul Society in retaliation for forcing her to do their bidding these last two thousand years. The despair and persistent abuse she endured as a result of her involvement with these organizations led to the deterioration of her heart on the way to becoming a Hollow. Hence her interest in Hollowfication and the construction of an army based on the inhabitants of Hueco Mundo. It is Unohana-sama's intention to devise a new system under which souls and the living world endure in cooperative fashion. To this end, she has recruited an elite force throughout the centuries and placed them in advantageous positions. With Aizen Sōsuke, who is the last living descendant of the King's family, she will oversee a change in the perceptions of life and the hereafter."

The melancholy lieutenant continued to perform her inscrutable exercises.

Then she stepped back.

"Done."

The lights in the room dimmed, and a soothing green glow came up from the tub where Mayuri's liquefied body floated. Several tubes and pumps around it began to churn and vibrate. During this process, Nemu came and stood beside Ishida. They watched the viscous goo swirl slowly before them.

"Parameters complete," she spoke in soft cadences. "Mayuri-sama is restricted from leaving. He is removed from all harm and his environment is at optimal levels for eventual reformation. Relevant information regarding Unohana-sama has been imparted. My objectives have been fulfilled. No further imperatives remain."

He looked over at her. The emerald radiance of the pool was causing her eyes to glow in a way that left her looking more alive than ever before.

And Ishida found himself speaking without any chance to hesitate.

"Help me."

Nemu did not so much as bat an eyelid.

"Please," he continued. "I… don't know what to do in this situation."

Still no response.

"I've never felt more useless in my entire life," Ishida stated softly, looking down at the Quincy bracelet he wore. It dangled on his wrist, limp and without purpose as he himself felt. "You tell me the captains are lost, and Unohana's a traitor. I still don't know what's really going on, but… some part of me wants to keep fighting in spite of that. Like if I can just locate an enemy to shoot and defeat things will all become easy. It's aggravating to admit it, but I'm a lot like Kurosaki. Only in his case when he goes off half-cocked he's got Rukia to possibly steer him in the right direction. I kind of envied him that security. When I get lost or confused, I've only got myself to rely on. There's no one I trust anymore to tell me what the right way might be if I don't see it."

It didn't look as though the scientific marvel was listening to him, but still Uryū couldn't stop talking. Who else could possibly help at this point?

"I choose to believe what I see in people. Whatever I might have heard about you, that you're a robot who only does what her masters tell her, I can't forget that when we first met, after no one was around to tell you what to do, you chose to save my life. I think you're a decent enough person to agree with me that what Unohana is trying to do now can't possibly end well. Eventually things will get out of hand, to the point where no amount of power can make a difference. After that this revolution of hers will turn into a bloodbath."

"You have no proof of that."

Ishida gave a little jump when she finally spoke. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but still it gave him hope of sorts. Talking like this was helping him come to grips with his own feelings. "Can you deny that Aizen, Ichimaru, and Tosen are all maniacs to some degree? And considering what I've seen of those _vasto lorde_, they're not really the 'benevolent' sort. A world with them on top rather than the shinigami captains is only replacing one source of fear with another. I don't… _want_ for them to have a say in how I live my life! Or those of my children, or however long their rule can last. Not even a day, if I can help it."

Nemu looked slightly downcast, but what else was new? "What is it you are asking of me?"

He blew his breath out and adjusted his glasses. "Help me stop them before it's too late."

A slight tilt of her head came then. "Mayuri-sama will benefit from the world that will come afterwards. I have been assured of it. My reason for being is to be of aid to him. That is why I did what I did."

"When he pulls himself back together, the first thing he's going to do is take you apart. You should know him well enough to realize that."

"I exist to bear pain," was her flat response.

His heart was starting to pound in desperation. What am I even doing here, trying to reason with this golem? I should just start looking for a door and go fight those bastards myself.

And wind up dead as a result? No. My best chance for victory is right in this room.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have run out of words.

The two of them remained side by side for a while. The boy in white tried feverishly to think of some type of cogent point that would sway her, while his black-clad cohort appeared to be lost in examining whatever lay straight before her.

What Ishida didn't know was that an argument was raging in her head at lightning speed.

_This is boring. Let's do something!_

We have not received any orders.

_I don't want to do orders, I want to play a game!_

But Unohana-sama told me to remain with Mayuri-sama.

'_Insubordinate meat! You have failed me for the last time!'_

'_Dear Nemu-san, you are so close to fulfilling all my dreams for you. Why confuse yourself like this?'_

What is my purpose? Please tell me.

_To play, you big silly!_

'_To do as I tell you to, amoeba-brain!'_

'_Take comfort in yourself, my darling. That is all I ask.'_

Nee-san. What do you say?

Nee-san?

'_Why are you looking to her now, Nemu-san? You already have received your answer.'_

I will hear Nee-san out.

'_Listen to me! I demand you look to favor MY interests in this matter! Determine what best serves me and then act accordingly!'_

Please talk to me, Nee-san.

_Nemu, your Nee-san isn't in here with us, she's out there. Always has been. You know that._

But she speaks to me. They all do.

_No. I speak to you. _

You are not the same as them. So what am I hearing?

_Your blood. Stuff that's been placed inside you by others._

If they are in me, then where do they leave off and I begin?

_It isn't like that. They're the nitty-gritty of who you are. You know, the basics. You relied on them until you could decide things for yourself. _

I have always listened to them. Are you saying I no longer should?

_That depends. Do you want this game to end?_

Which game?

_Tug-of-war, silly. Mayuri and Unohana have been playing it with you since you were born._

Then where does Nee-san fit in?

_Isane? She's special. She's the first person you ever loved!_

I… love someone?

_Yup. Because you decided on your own that you wanted to protect her, without anyone having to order you. _

Why?

_She told you that not everybody had to do what Mayuri told them to, remember?_

I do.

_Well, that was the moment I woke up inside you! Mayuri's side told you that she had to be punished for saying that. Unohana's said to go home and forget it ever happened. You chose not to hurt her but also stay. There was only one way to do it. That's when you learned how to forgive other people._

That matters?

_Sure it does. Whenever Mayuri hurt you after that, you not only accepted the pain, you forgave him for it. _

But I do not remember choosing to.

_That's because you had me do it. And I'm a part of you!_

I am not certain if this helps me decide what to do here.

_You dum-dum. That boy you're with is someone special too. He cared about you even when you were his enemy. Remember how angry he got when he saw Mayuri hurting you? _

Yes. It reminded me of Nee-san somehow.

_Yup. Then you gave him the antidote to Ashizogi-jizou's toxin. Because he fought your father and you without killing either one._

So?

_C'mon. You've got this. There's only one reason you wouldn't want him to fight Unohana-sama, and it's not because YOU might get hurt._

Because…

_Yeah, yeah?_

Because… he might kill her.

_Bingo! But you already know, don't you? He can see beyond just killing someone. He can fight and beat her, without killing her! And there's no reason you'd want to hurt her now, right?_

I know. Because I already forgave Unohana-sama for forcing me to turn on Mayuri-sama.

_So what do you think?_

Unohana-sama wished for me to subdue and defend Mayuri-sama. And he wanted to use the Quincy boy to kill Aizen Sōsuke and all his allies. That includes Unohana-sama, though he did not know it. But Nee-san would insist that she be protected.

_That's a real mess._

There is only one solution. I must remove the point of contention between them all. Namely, the new world that Unohana-sama has envisioned. It is incompatible with my decision on who must be protected.

_That means we need to kill Aizen and all his bigwigs. Goodie!_

Agreed.

All this took less than two seconds to determine in the real world.

Just as Uryū felt himself on the verge of a truly undefeatable argument, Nemu suddenly lifted her head.

"It is my purpose to stand in place for others' pain. But Nee-san taught me… it is my choice for whom I do so."

She then turned and strode briskly off.

"Ah… Nemu-san?"

The purple-haired lieutenant drew up to a control panel sticking out of the ground and tapped in some commands. As she did, a metal object that looked like a round lava lamp with spears sticking out of it descended from the ceiling and hovered directly over Mayuri's pond, its prongs dipping down into the sludge. At the same time, a hatch popped open in the floor beside Nemu, and she trotted down a gangplank into darkness.

Moments later, the shinigami rose back into sight. She was pushing a gurney draped with a white cloth. Beneath the shroud there was something that might have been a human body.

"You are in the way," she informed Ishida brusquely. "Please stand aside."

Uncertain of what exactly was about to transpire and suspicious that she might be about to invite him to have something to eat (possibly in the fashion of cannibals), he did as requested and moved back a few paces.

Kurotsuchi wheeled the table over beside the puddle that was her father. In one hand she held something like a spiked cap. This she placed on what might have correlated to the head of the figure on the table before turning and addressing the tub.

"Mayuri-sama, can you hear me?"

_[Of course I hear you, idiot! Don't bother me with puerile questions!]_

She didn't seem perturbed by his hostility any more than usual. "I have brought an appropriate vessel. Please prepare for synthesis."

_[Don't expect this absolves you of your treachery, imbecile]_

Ishida gawked. "What are you…?"

"Beginning transfer."

She didn't move or speak, but immediately purple lightning bolts flared between the ball floating in midair and the helmet. They lit the room with flashes bright enough to singe the corneas, and the archer stumbled back and spun away from that sight, covering his eyes desperately.

Behind him, Nemu remained in her role as an impassive observer. She didn't even blink in the face of that indoor thunderstorm.

After almost a minute, the fireworks display stopped. When the sounds diminished, Ishida risked a glance backward.

Just in time, for it was then that the body beneath the sheet began to twitch.

"It's…ALIVE!" he whispered.

Slowly the cloth-bound form rose upright.

"A more accurate term would be 'animated', Quincy!"

His jaw dropped. The words made him think it was… but that voice…! It couldn't be!

Then the figure reached up and pulled away the concealing shroud.

Sitting naked on the table was Rukia Kuchiki, an evil grin stretching her face.

"GAAAH! WHAT IN THE NAME OF HELL?"

"Oh, spare me!" the demonic pixie snapped. "I wouldn't expect you to comprehend any of this. Suffice it to say that, recognizing in the past my need to remain active even during periods of corporeal reconstitution, I developed a means to bridge the gap between my liquid state and a suitable gigai for limited periods. This just happened to be the only one handy."

"M…MAYURI?"

She hopped down from the gurney. "Don't think you can get away with referring to me without an honorific when I'm like this, you degenerate."

"WHA…!" he gasped in response, and then his face contorted in total outrage. "WHY IN GOD'S NAME DO YOU HAVE A GIGAI THAT LOOKS LIKE RUKIA?"

"She was done using it," Mayuri sniffed dismally. "And anything Kisuke creates belongs to me by rights." She looked down at her nude body, moving from one foot to another, inspecting herself. "This seems adequate. Now, to work. Nemu, come along! We can address the matter of your disintegration later!"

"Yes, Mayuri-sama."

Uryū was seriously considering stabbing out his own eyes by this point. He was seeing things that would inevitably get him killed were certain people to find out. Rukia almost certainly, her brother without a doubt, and Ichigo… well, you didn't have to be a genius to see that death sentence coming. To mitigate the damage, he resolutely spun about and presented his back to them.

"Hurry up, Quincy! We are still operating on a schedule here!"

"For… what?" he demanded from between clenched teeth, standing very stiff and rigid (not that way, no please, don't let it be _that _way!).

He heard the two women walking up behind him. "What do you think, dolt? Nothing has changed. I still intend to attach _Toutoi Mimizu_ to you and see my obligation to Kuchiki-ojousama discharged properly!"

"Please don't say 'discharge'!" Uryū pleaded frantically, struggling to control himself.

Mayuri sighed dramatically. "I knew this procedure would be nerve-wracking. But enough of this nonsense. Nemu, pick him up!"

"Yes, sir."

"HEY!"

This cry was all he could manage before he was jerked off his feet and draped over Nemu's shoulder. She then followed her mistress out of the room.

"Make haste, now! Heaven knows how much time we have. The Door was opened a while past, and I want all preparations made before anybody comes through! Those Squad Zero upstarts won't steal my thunder, I assure you!"

* * *

"Momo, I swear I can help you," Hitsugaya spoke softly, still spread-eagled against the floor by her magic. "If it takes the rest of my life, I will help you find a way to live peacefully in this world."

She tapped the blunt edge of her katana against her shoulder and gazed down at him curiously.

"Tōshirō-kun, that line sounds so unoriginal. Are you quoting from a book or something? There's nothing wrong with me. I'm perfect the way I am. It's the rest of the world that needs changing, to get their priorities straight. Don't you get it?"

His mouth twisted in response. "You're not perfect. You're insane! And that madness is keeping you from questioning the validity of anything you do. Have you even bothered to stop and think if _killing _people is always the right way to respond to not getting your way?"

Of a sudden she covered her mouth with one hand and giggled girlishly.

"Oh, you should hear what she's saying about you! Tobiume, I mean! You're making her so absolutely furious!" Her head lolled around with a sigh. "I can't say I disagree with her. You sound like every other stupid person who wants me to act a certain way for their benefit. Face it, Tōshirō-kun. You don't care about helping me. You're just desperate to keep me from killing you."

Momo suddenly reached down and poked him in the shoulder with the tip of her sword. The leader of Squad Ten flinched and gritted his teeth to keep from crying out as it pierced his flesh, however briefly. His attacker crouched down on her haunches and wagged the bloodied blade before his face.

"The great Captain Tōshirō Hitsugaya! He can't die alone in a hallway, killed by a girl, can he? NO, his life is supposed to end in some grand auspicious battle with evil, in which he fulfills his destiny and makes the world safe for the decent and righteous once more! I can't believe you, Shiro-kun. You've seriously bought into this 'Legendary Guardian' horse dung, haven't you? Thinking that you're the one who will make the vital difference and stop Aizen all on your own. You can't even beat me! How do you expect to win against him?"

"AIZEN, AIZEN!" the helpless prisoner yelled suddenly. "I never thought I would miss the days when you told me about whatever stupid girly thing you and your friends did last evening! Can't you think about anything other than that bastard?"

He had expected her to explode in another fit of pique again.

Instead the girl became very still and quiet.

"I can't believe it," she murmured. "I almost forgot. That _Espada _even reminded me, and it still slipped my mind. Where is my head?"

And she stood up.

"I'm supposed to kill you, aren't I?"

She smiled and raised Tobiume on high. Hitsugaya stared in utter disbelief at this nightmarish scene.

"It's understandable if you don't believe I'll do it," Hinamori said calmly. "You just always made the wrong assumptions about me, that's all."

Her arm tensed to bring the slender saber slicing down.

Momo paused, looking him right in the eye, a strange expression working over her features.

"Who…?"

She turned her head.

There came a meaty smack as Momo got punched right in the face.

That was how it looked, at any rate. To the boy's eyes, it appeared as if everything was happening in slow motion. He saw the nose press flat, eyes closing in instinctive response to pain and lips twisting. Her neck arched backwards into a most peculiar 'S' shape.

Someone hit her. That was a fact. The only problem was, he couldn't see who did it.

There was nobody there.

A second later there was a spurt of blood from her nostrils, and then time swept smoothly back to normal. Hinamori staggered backwards, lost her footing and collapsed in a heap, where she lay without moving.

"Hag," a cold voice muttered.

Focusing on the space where that sound came from, Tōshirō finally thought he could detect a vague disturbance in the air. Like there was a piece of warped glass present that twisted the light ever so slightly.

Suddenly he knew what his senses were telling him.

Bakudō 26: Kyokko. Also known as _Curved Light. _The spell for hiding one's presence.

As this realization hit, Nanao Ise appeared beside him.

The slender woman crouched down. She grasped the pillory around his neck with one hand and murmured, "_Oote."_ At her command, the trap sprang open.

Hitsugaya came up swiftly. He looked at his rescuer in disbelief. Staring back through her glasses, Nanao then made a swift chopping motion in front of him. When she did, the binding spell around his throat broke away, allowing his own magic to once more flourish.

"Thanks," he murmured, gingerly rubbing his neck to ease the sense of prickling after-effects.

"You're welcome."

She stood. Hitsugaya stared up at the dispassionate sorceress. Compared to a lot of his other colleagues, there had never been that much of a height difference between himself and the slim, elegant lieutenant of the Eighth division. But right now, for reasons real or imagined, she seemed to tower over him.

To say nothing of the fact that she had never looked more beautiful.

"You should probably retrieve your sword, Taichou."

"Ah." He felt himself blush slightly at the mild reproach in her words. "Right." The underage officer then flashed over and picked up Hyōrinmaru from where Momo had kicked it.

_We could have died. _

But we didn't.

_You still have a lot to learn, a fact you sometimes tend to forget._

If ever in the future you feel I am growing too full of myself, just say 'Peach'.

_I will not forget._

"Bakudō #73:_ Falling Mountain Crystal!_"

He flinched instinctively. But even as he recognized Nanao's voice once more, a glowing blue pyramid sprang up around the senseless Hinamori, containing her in its walls.

Once more the matchless savant who had attained his peak position at an unprecedented age, Captain Hitsugaya spared a glance to where his childhood friend still lay unconscious before proceeding to rejoin the other woman.

"You certainly didn't hold back on her, did you?" he commented drily.

Nanao flexed her fingers as if to ease out stiffness. "Before I cast Kyokko to conceal my approach, I inscribed a Shō spell on my fist to maximize the attacking power. There was no way to cast any Demon Arts near her without giving myself away, and I couldn't risk that she might put up a defense in time. Lieutenant Hinamori was rather skilled in magic, as I recall."

That was putting it mildly. His former friend was widely hailed as a genius when it came to Demon Arts. But then, this woman boasted an almost equal reputation for witchcraft. He could think of no other lieutenant who could perform a Kyokko that would not only fool his senses to such an extent, but also Momo's.

"Can you tell me what's going on, Ise-fukutaichou?"

She took a deep breath. For the first time he caught some indication of emotion off her. Perhaps sorrow, but it passed swiftly, replaced with the mask of a professional soldier.

"The lieutenants belonging to the three traitors have all gone rogue. As you saw for yourself, their mission was to incapacitate as many of the captains as they could and blunt our forces' drive. Captains Komamura, Soifon, Ukitake…" She swallowed briefly. "…and Kyōraku have all been disabled."

_Well, that is certainly grim news._

"In addition, the Commander-General has been crippled beyond repair, and Captain Unohana has revealed herself to be a traitor. Captain Kuchiki seems to have been captured by Aizen, along with Ichigo Kurosaki. At present only you, Captain Zaraki and possibly Captain Kurotsuchi remain unhindered."

You spoke too soon, Hyōrinmaru.

"How do you know all this?" he asked with only the bare minimum of suspicion.

"Yoruichi Shihoin," was her prompt reply. "She used Tenteikura to communicate with all remaining loyal lieutenants. Apparently she and Kisuke Urahara have concocted a means to defeat the leaders of the Hollow Army. But according to her, the plan requires us to wait until they have already passed through the King's Door and entered Nirvana for it to succeed."

Hitsugaya frowned in concentration. He could feel the soul signatures marking the _vasto lorde_ along with several figures of captain rank farther inside the First division offices.

"So Aizen's just waiting to spring a surprise attack on the King," he groused. "And the remainder of his army is looking to slaughter our forces here."

Ise pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with one finger. "There seems to be a tendency in the Hollow officers to disable rather than kill at this time, and they are enforcing the same restrictions on the lesser ones for some reason. But all the same, our people are dying."

Tōshirō and Nanao watched one another, junior and superior measuring the situation they found themselves in.

"Did Yoruichi leave any specific instructions for us to follow concerning her plan?"

"According to her, after the enemy commanders leave this plane, we are to wait for a signal of some kind from Ichigo Kurosaki. After that all captain-class fighters remaining are to immediately convene on the Door and engage any leftover _vasto lorde _or renegade captains, preventing them from warning Aizen of what is transpiring."

A quick scan of the area confirmed a rather obvious flaw in that plan.

"I don't seem to be sensing Kurosaki's presence at all," Hitsugaya mused. "Usually he's hard to miss, even in the press of battle. Are you certain he is alive?"

"Yoruichi assured me of it." She seemed somewhat ill-at-ease, perhaps not liking the idea of trusting anything of such obviously vital importance to someone she barely knew.

_There is no time to debate the merits of the cat woman's actions. Your men are dying as we speak. Until you are called upon, our duty is clear._

Yes. You're absolutely right.

Nanao's violet eyes narrowed in concentration. "I can feel Zaraki-taichou fighting somewhere in the East, so Lieutenant Iba must have succeeded in freeing him. In addition, a former _Espada _named Neliel has apparently joined our side and is opposing her brethren. There is supposedly only one _Espada _left overseeing the Hollow army's offensive. It's the Sixth, called Grimmjow Jeaguerjaques."

"Then at least on the current battlefield, we have them outnumbered in terms of captain-class fighters. Ise-fukutaichou," the emerald-eyed prodigy spoke, "I'll take your word on this matter. Until we receive the signal, I am going to help our troops combat the Hollows."

"I'll do the same after I scout out the status of Captain Kurotsuchi. We haven't been able to determine his condition," she responded.

He nodded briefly, those childish features seasoned by experience and grief. Then Captain Hitsugaya vanished in swift pursuit of his duties.

Nanao prepared to follow.

'_you…'_

She paused.

'_BITCH!'_

The cool-eyed spell-mistress came about. Inside the prison she had cast around Hinamori Momo, a dull red glow burned over the girl's body. Narrowing her eyes, Nanao thought she could detect a human outline of sorts to it.

'_goddamn WHORE!' _a faint, whispery voice brushed over her senses. _'you think this is enough to stop US? you don't know who you're dealing with, Book-Girl!'_

What on earth is that?

_Don't hold me to it, Nanao, but I think that's Momo's zanpakutō._

Tobiume? You mean she's trained it to materialize its presence?

_Yeah. She must have been shooting for ban-kai or something. If so, she's pretty darn close. Though it's still kinda fuzzy, if you ask me._

'_you don't know a damn THING, you patchwork piece of shit!' _That nebulous figure almost seemed to jump up and down in anger. _'Momo and I both had our memories sealed, but now we remember! Aizen-sama has been helping us out for years! think you know everything? you don't even know what I really look like!'_

From where it lay a few feet in front of Momo, the physical form of her soul cutter began to glow an eerie scarlet.

_Nanao, watch out! She's doing something strange!_

An instant later, the blue pyramid flared with red light that left everything within indistinct.

When it faded, something was hovering in midair.

It looked to be a bronze circle about the diameter of a person's chest. Stylized metal flames ran all around its outer edge, and three curving bands branched in from the interior to meet at its center. At this spot, there was a round disc. And as Nanao watched, a blazing red eye opened in that expanse and focused on her.

Onnanoko… is that a… ban-kai?

_No, it's not! I don't know how to explain it, but I think it's another form of shikai!_

'_damn right, you stupid fan-girl!'_ Tobiume hissed at them. _'that other released form you always saw me in was just a front! Aizen-sama taught us how to achieve it so that nobody would know our real power. and speaking of which…!'_

The occult eye blazed.

'_CHECK THIS OUT, BITCHES!'_

A beam of red energy shot out and collided with the side of Inverted Mountain Crystal. The barrier quaked and glowed violently, at which point the cone of fire increased.

Ise flung up her arms in preparation of reinforcing the spell with its incantation. _"Prayer of the striving slave/ Working from dust to churn the Eternal Ruler's mausoleum/…"_

Before she could get halfway through, the transparent pyramid cracked, and with a final scream from Tobiume, exploded altogether.

"_Enkosen!"_ A shield of yellow energy formed before her to catch the shockwave. Nanao skidded backwards, amazed at the amount of power displayed there. Even with her own zanpakutō still sealed and having cast that cage without an incantation, the sword showed an incredible amount of reiatsu in having destroyed it.

The cloud of dust from that assault was swept away. Momo Hinamori stood upright once more, bringing her arm about to further dispel the smokescreen. Tobiume now hovered over her head in the manner of a halo. There was a purple bruise forming on her nose, and her eyes held a queer impression of not seeing anything before her. Like she was drugged or simply not all there. When she opened her mouth, Nanao was horrified to hear Tobiume's voice come out, now strong and clear.

"_I might have had to let that white-haired freak go because we're not strong enough to fight him head-on. But you're another sort of shit, Four-Eyes! When I'm done with you, you'll wish you'd stayed curled up in your captain's bed!"_

At this particular comment, Nanao Ise flinched.

She stood up, dusting herself off and allowing the shield before her to dispel.

_Nanao, do you think we should…?_

It's all right. I intend to finish this without your aid if I can. I value your concern, but I am not angry enough to kill. Not yet, at any rate.

_I'm here if you need me, though. Don't go dying. Shunsui would blame himself if you did._

I'll give it my best shot.

Across from them, Tobiume began to spin over Momo's skull, the witch-light burning at its center. Its user smiled unpleasantly.

"_Get ready to DIE, you pompous ice-queen!"_

Nanao looked down her nose at the raging beast she had once counted as an ally. "Why don't we see just which of us cracked the spell-books harder, _lieutenant?"_

_

* * *

_

Grimmjow Jeaguerjaques sank his teeth into a shinigami's arm and ripped it off to wave in the air. The red wet flesh spurted blood all over his face, and he spit out the appendage to lap it up.

"**Come on, shinigami! Come and meet your ends!"**

Around him was the carnage of pitched battle. The _Sexta's _composite soul swelled in pleasure at the sight of animal-like Hollows crushing their opponents and flinging them aside. _Arrancar _fought with greater precision, obeying their previous orders to restrict the number of enemy casualties. All because _Aizen _told them to! Even thinking that hateful name left him hungry for his next victim.

There was a brief lull in the fighting around him, and as a result he caught a clear glimpse of the white palace off in the distance. The mark of his superiors' presence was still exuding out of it in the form of a pillar of dark reiatsu. Their overwhelming power, combined with the chaos in which he now stood, prevented him from sensing any specific souls in that far-off place. But the fact they were still there told him what he needed to know. Aizen Sōsuke remained in Seireitei. And as long as he did, the command that his new master had placed upon Grimmjow remained in place. They were to obey the Usurper's wishes. But the instant the shinigami overlord went off in search of his precious heavenly kingdom…

That's when the real fun would start.

The were-panther left off his perusals and brought his attention back to the present. The shinigami were proving more resilient than he had expected in the face of their loss of leadership. As Aizen had predicted, not a single captain of the Seireitei had come out to face them. While a part of him still resented not being able to cross swords with those overblown incompetents, this way he got the chance to kill more of the cannon fodder death gods.

Blocking a strike from a man wielding a poleaxe, Jeaguerjaques whipped his tail behind his opponent's legs, tripping him to fall flat on his back. Before he could rise his vanquisher planted one black hind foot on his chest and pressed down, crushing the spirit's ribcage while vaulting over him at the same time to meet the next opponent. This one was a mage who attempted to burn him with a shot of purple fire. The blue-haired berserker swept out his claws, dispelling the attack with ease. Before the shocked woman could respond he sent missiles firing from his elbow joint that pierced her kneecaps and sent her flopping over to howl on the ground.

Too easy. They were all slim pickings for him. No one so far had presented the slightest challenge.

And something about that seemed odd. While a hunter at heart, Grimmjow seemed to remember that he didn't usually bother with anyone who didn't stand a chance against him. Normally he sought out the strongest in a group. But since this fight had started, he had been indiscriminately engaging with anyone that came along. Was that normal?

While he was thinking this, something hot and burning flowed through his bloodstream. There was a brief recognition of this presence as alien before the venom took hold.

**Fight, **it told him. **Obey your ruler**.

Shaking his head, Grimmjow dismissed his previous uncertainty. Catching sight of a stampeding mob of Hollows, he followed them to see what might lie ahead.

A ring of shinigami presented themselves before him. The ones forming it all wielded their blades to fairly impressive efforts. The remains of wounded Hollows lay strewn around their perimeter. Who knows how many of his brethren had been completely purified by this lot? Within that circle of elite warriors, other death gods were firing off spells from behind the safety of their more martial comrades. It was a fairly effective strategy from what he could see.

But not any more.

The crazed killer spread his legs to anchor himself and opened his jaws wide. He then roared, and the sheer volume of noise this produced converted into pure physical force, a shockwave that blasted apart the defensive arrangement and sent its members soaring through the air with pained shrieks. Behind them, a series of barriers cracked and shattered like a nutshell, leaving the spell-casters behind it standing devoid of any protection.

It was only a small group, Grimmjow thought. Aizen was probably too busy to notice, intent as he was on his own elevation to kingship. Yes. This is what my king wants of me.

And with that, the _Sexta _bit the inside of his cheek. Blood flowed out, and he prepared to perform a _Gran Rey Cero _that would completely annihilate this huddled mob of vermin. Blue light burned all around the ultra-powerful Hollow's body, and his followers stumbled over themselves to distance themselves from what was coming next.

Laughing crazily, Grimmjow prepared to let his murderous attack fly.

A flash of red light, like a pinprick off in the distance. That was all the warning he got. But Grimmjow's instincts were the finest of them all, and so he recognized when he was in danger. Instantly he brought his head up and fired.

The blue beam met its crimson counterpart well over the heads of the onlookers, and for a time everything was lit purple by the force of their collision. Screeching and burning, the two forces sought to overwhelm one another, almost as if they were animals looking to establish superiority.

Then it all exploded, flattening virtually everyone in the area to the ground.

Grimmjow remained on his feet, hunched over and rocking from one side to another eagerly. A scowl caused his eyes to narrow down to slits. With the majority of the combatants temporarily out of commission, he had a good look at anyone left standing following the blast.

Thanks to this, it wasn't hard to pick out who it was that had sent that attack his way.

Coming across the field was a tall figure dressed in the black robes of a shinigami. But there the resemblance ended. It wore a mask reminiscent of a baboon skull, and bright red hair flowed all the way down its shoulders and back. Tattoos came up the fighter's bare chest that glowed with strange designs. A tan chasuble covered the shoulders and stretched down to envelop the arms. In one black-gloved hand was clenched the handle of a whip, one which proved to be hundreds of meters long and in the form of a giant snake's skeleton. The fleshless head of that weapon bristled its red mane and shrieked out a war cry.

All of this was rather interesting. But even more was the fact that this creature's enormous reiatsu carried traces of both Hollow and shinigami in it. Like it was some kind of mixed breed. This stirred something in Grimmjow. Briefly he got a flash of another fighter, an enemy of his, who bore a mask but wasn't a Hollow. When he tried to follow this memory to its source, the miasma in his veins burned up once again, preventing him from drawing any further conclusions.

Well, that's all right. No need to think too hard when this guy clearly wants to pick a fight. And he even managed to counter my _Gran Rey. _Impressed, Jeaguerjaques shook his head and waited eagerly for this intriguing foe to approach.

At last the whip-wielder came to within a convenient distance, where it stopped suddenly. As Grimmjow watched, the mask split in half, each piece dropping to settle on its shoulders. The face revealed was strange. Were those eyebrows actually tattooed on? And what was up with his eyes? They were orange with black sclera. Again a feeling of recognition arose inside and was cut off by the blessing left him by the mighty Barragan.

Baboon soldier and killer cat stood appraising one another.

"**So what are you supposed to be?" **Grimmjow snarled.

And the hybrid bared its fangs.

"**I'm the KING, pussy-cat!"**

This comment irritated the Hollow for some reason. It sounded like something he himself might say… but that can't be, it is Barragan who is king! Now less certain of himself than he had been a moment past, the _arrancar_ scratched deep furrows in the earth with his paws, feeling as though he was missing something here.

"**Are you on the side of the shinigami?"**

And his foe laughed.

"**I guess Ichigo messed up your head worse than I thought! Yeah, I'm your enemy, Grimmjow! Don't really care much for cleaning up Kurosaki's leftovers, but you're doing some damage out here to my buddies. And since my captain's off on more important business, it falls to his lieutenant to lead the troops to victory. Incidentally, that also means I get to deal with your scruffy hide!"**

A very personal feeling of bloodlust, different than the one before, made itself known, and Jeaguerjaques rumbled deep in his chest with pleasure.

"**You know my name, but I never got yours. Better say it now, because later you're gonna be too busy choking on your own blood!" **

The shinigami lieutenant raised his arm and cracked the bone whip violently. Red fire seared out from its hinges, scorching the earth.

"**When you see your buddy Ilford in Hell, tell him that Renji says 'Hi'!" **

Ilford?

Wait a minute…

Ohhhh.

And when Grimmjow smiled this time, it was because he honestly felt happy.

"**You can tell him yourself."**

The commanders of the different armies then sprang at each other across the field of churned mud, grass and blood.

_To be continued…_


	31. War in Heaven: Against All Odds, FIGHT!

The battle was raging. She knew that. In spite of her condition, she could still detect soul signatures. That much she was still good for.

And little else.

When all the other members of Squad Ten had left to perform their duties, Sachiko Fugunushi alone remained behind in the Seireitei. She had been the Fifth seat for the duration of this captain's term, and was certain of never rising any higher. The debilitating injuries she had received decades ago while attempting to qualify for the lieutenant's position had seen to that. Where once her comrades had commended her for her spirit and vigor, now she was thought of as a sort of…

Well, 'embarrassment' might be a cruel word. But even if anyone ever applied it to her, the young woman would not think to deny it.

Quaking in her seat, Sachiko knew she was a pitiful sort of death god, missing a leg and an ear and permanently hobbled in terms of her spirit power. It had been ages since her zanpakutō had spoken to her, much less materialized. The trauma of being butchered by the Third squad captain had prevented Sachiko from ever achieving a measurable level of spirit power since. Had Captain Unohana not arrived in time, she would certainly have died. Which might have been a comfort, considering the deplorable state she had existed in since. Captain Shoumen had let her keep her position as Third seat purely out of sympathy, but her replacement Captain Hitsugaya was not so soft-hearted, demoting her to Fifth and assigning her a co-chair to boot. She had made no protest. It was more of a kindness than she deserved.

Being unfit for combat or aid duties, Fugunushi now remained in the Tenth division offices, resigned to wait for either victory or death. The latter was looking likely by the feel of it. A while past, a bunch of captains' signatures simply disappeared from her awareness. Several minutes ago she had felt creatures that could only have been the fabled _vasto lorde _pass over her position. With them was someone she thought she recognized as former captain Aizen. It was rather like how a chipmunk must feel upon experiencing a hawk's shadow passing over it. There was no chance they could have noticed her, small and insignificant as she was, but the humbled soul had still felt an urge to crawl under her desk and cower there until someone came for her, whether Hollow or shinigami.

The miserable figure could not remember a time when she hadn't been afraid. I'm just window dressing now. They only keep me around out of respect for his memory, anyway. It all went to hell after you died, Kenta. I wish I could have gone with you. I still remember that day, when I lost you, my whole world just seemed to…

A cloud of dread fell over her.

Having experienced something like this a short while ago, Sachiko recognized this must be another of the enemy commanders coming upon her position. Like all the rest, it went by without any regard for her presence. She was left alone once more.

A minute passed. And another.

Then, clutching the table for support, the shinigami officer stood up.

Her eyes were wide, body shivering so violently it felt like she might fall over.

"It's… the same," she murmured, mouth hanging slack.

With that, she hobbled towards the door, slowly as was her wont, but soon afterwards, a little faster.

I have to go faster.

Down the hall she went in pursuit, following twists and turns that were practically emblazoned on her memory. A good thing, for Sachiko was not seeing anything in front of her. Instead, she was remembering a time in her past back before her disfigurement. When she and her lover, the then-Third seat of her division, Kenta Arakaki, had been sent on assignment in the mortal world. They had exchanged words briefly, mostly concerning the mission, because they were on duty and it was important to retain the appearance of professional distance. He had blessed her with a smile, though, right before he left to check on the other members of their troop.

Before he died.

Something had come upon their position then. Sachiko never knew what exactly. No one did. It arrived so swiftly, and left just as fast. She remembered not being able to move, paralyzed by the sheer force of the thing's spirit. After it lifted, they all tried to determine what it might have been.

Then someone came running up to her, she couldn't remember who, and informed them that squad leader Arakaki had been cut down.

Fugunushi nearly went out of her mind trying to locate him. To prove to herself that it was all a hideously unfunny joke. When she did finally come upon her beloved, it was to find him cut to pieces with a member of the Fourth division trying to put his legs back on.

He died with her screaming out for someone to help him. She would always remember how he looked lying there, covered in blood with a hole torn in his chest. Sachiko had nightmares in which he was chasing her, emanating that same horrible reiatsu which belonged to the thing that had killed him. This was another aspect of that day that was burned indelibly into her memory.

So she recognized it. That last monster that had flown overhead…

It was bigger, but still the same.

Whatever it was, this was the creature that had pulled the good and honorable Kenta Arakaki to pieces.

And so she hobbled off, chasing down the stuff of her nightmares come to life.

I have to go after it. I have to stop it this time. Can't let anybody else go through the same thing I have. Must warn them all, before it's too late.

Soul Society was at war. But Sachiko Fugunushi, co-Fifth seat of Division Ten, was intent upon her own battle. And no matter how pitiful it might seem, it was one she had sworn to win somehow.

* * *

Yamamoto had not been remiss in letting his King know the extent of the threat with which they were faced. And in spite of the faith his sovereign placed in the aged commander, the King was not foolish enough to assume that his position was unassailable. Entry into Nirvana was strictly curtailed, but few knew that exiting that plane was just as complicated an affair. So it had been agreed that Zero Squad would await upon the Sotaichou's command before engaging in open warfare. The damage from such a conflict would be extensive, and in the interests of minimizing the effort required to rebuild, that last line of defense would be called in only if Yamamoto deemed it necessary. His judgment in this matter was trusted implicitly. After all, if he, of all people, felt that their victory was uncertain, then it truly meant a grim outlook for the forces of Soul Society.

And so it was that the King's Royal Guard, the reserve squad of titanic fighters more powerful than the entire complement of thirteen other shinigami divisions combined, stood arrayed in full battle readiness on a grassy plane far removed from the Twilight Imperial City. For many of this matchless retinue, it had been absolutely centuries since they had been required to take up arms against the enemy. But not a one of them had allowed the lush opulence and tranquility of their time spent in paradise to dull their fighting edge. They knew what was required of them, and it was not to indulge in mere comforts and fleeting pleasures. Their duty lay in defending the royal personage itself. It was for this reason that they had been raised up to a position that trumped all the other officials of the Royal Court.

Now the time had come at last to prove the faith their King had placed in them.

Ichinose Kuwabakara, official delegate of the Court, stood with them along with his retinue. He was a high-ranking dignitary, long-versed in the study of combat. Standing in the midst of this assembly of white-cloaked warriors made him feel his age, though, and relative ineffectiveness in terms of actual fighting. Attired in silk robes and ornamental vestments, he made a sorry picture of a diplomat compared to the rest. All the Zero fighters boasted cutting-edge armor that afforded superb protection to their vulnerable spots while not hindering movement. Based on a very costly design from the Twelfth division's current head, it had been rejected for the regular troops on the grounds that it was invasive and cost-ineffective. But decades of research on the original brand had finally yielded a new model that boasted the defensive capabilities of the original with the added bonus of being able to remove it afterwards.

The snow-white haori draped over these supple suits of armor boasted no division marking at all. Unlike their lesser brethren, the Zero Squad needed no symbol to delineate themselves, and it was this very lack of insignia that spoke to their true worth. It was not necessary to announce their presence. Their power spoke for itself. It was a force based upon service, faith, diligence, and exemplary prowess. This was the fabled Squad Zero.

Before their ranks, a great round tenkaimon gate stood. Its red and black surface was ornamented with convoluted spells and wardings hidden in the form of architecture. For over an hour, since the face of the portal first split into four equal pie-shaped wedges and slowly began to slide open, the honor guard had watched in either grim silence or keen interest. This meant that the unlikely had occurred in that their military overlord, Commander-General Yamamoto Shigekuni-Genryusai, had determined himself incapable of meeting the threat with the forces currently at his disposal. And so, for the first time since its inception, it was time for their unmatched division to take the field.

At last the tunnel's mouth opened fully, giving them a view into a swirling golden vortex of dimensional concurrences. Kuwabakara stepped forward along with several of the oldest members of this brigade. Used as he was to living among such prodigious spirits, their sum total of soul power only made him feel queasy without crushing him as it would lesser beings. The Zero Squad had determined that a small contingent of their order would go first, to assess the situation and ensure that there were no unpleasant surprises waiting for them.

"Are you ready, Ichinose-dono?" one of their number asked.

"My retinue is prepared to depart," he announced. "Should anything go awry, we shall report back immediately and bring the rest of your fellows at once."

"Well and good," a burly fighter with short-cropped gray hair announced. "Remember, keep yourself separate from the fighting. Observe and report. We are not responsible for your safety, after all."

"I will, good masters." Ichinose bowed forth. He was feeling shaken by this whole enterprise. In over two thousand years, he had not left the security of Nirvana save for a few imperial processions required to instill proper reverence in their subjects. And now the King demanded he act as his eyes and ears for the coming conflict? One would think a younger and less important official might be tasked with such a dangerous duty, but this might also be seen as a mark of the trust his sovereign imparted in him. One did not spurn such signs of favor.

So resolved, he turned to face what might very well be his death.

And when he did, a giant wolf came bursting through the portal.

The court official fell over with a scream of pure fright as the thing's shadow passed over him.

Darkness fell, of an intensity so total that he felt certain he must have gone blind. Only then did it dawn upon him that he could not hear anything, nor sense the captains' presences any longer. It was as though all his faculties had been cut off.

In spite of this, he felt someone brush effortlessly past him.

Kaname Tosen glanced down. The Hollow mask he wore resembled a king cobra, with a flared hood and a black forked tongue flicking out to taste the air. There were no eye sockets, only concave indentations in the bone. On the back of his hood, the two circular markings normally found upon such animals suddenly opened to reveal a pair of rich black eyes. In spite of their position, they saw everything around him.

His ban-kai enveloped the portal, shutting off all perceptions save his own. Tosen watched as several of his former associates stumbled blindly about. They did not try to attack indiscriminately, nor make any cries to give away their positions. Wise precautions, considering the damage they might call upon their comrades and themselves by such reckless actions. That had always been one of the greatest weaknesses of his ban-kai. It trapped him inside the black dome with his prey. While robbing them of most senses, it could not hamper their power in any way. And if someone under the pall of his Suzumebachi simply executed an indiscriminate attack in all directions, like for example Byakuya Kuchiki's Senbonzakura Kageyoshi, then he himself had no means of evading it.

Fortunately, he was dealing with professional soldiers. And it was this tact that allowed him to travel quietly through the darkness and kill them with a minimum of fuss. The men he supposed to be emissaries of the King he allowed to live.

Justice did not kill without need, after all.

* * *

Coyote Stark landed in the very midst of the battalion, his huge head whipping around, tongue lolling out in blissful disorder. Many of the shinigami captains had been able to avoid his rush owing to their superior reflexes, but the sheer press of bodies had prevented them all from escaping. One or two screamed and wailed beneath his profusion of dire claws. He crushed them excitedly, relishing the feel of guts squishing out between his toes.

_**Oh mY gods oh my GOds I found you! I'm HERE, I'M HERE dO you alllyaLLLL REMEMBER MEEEEEE?**_

He opened his jaws, intending to laugh, and a Cero came out with it. Not the puny beams most Hollows were capable of producing. This energy flow was a tsunami-sized affair by comparison, both in breadth and power. Without any intended target, the wave travelled off into the distance and disappeared.

For a few seconds there was no reaction.

Then the entire horizon lit up with an explosion that reached high enough to touch the stars, and as though this was a signal they had been waiting upon, Squad Zero descended en masse upon their ancient enemy.

So many of them went ban-kai at once that the combined release of spirit actually knocked the colossal beast off its feet. Coyote heaved upright with a snicker, snapping and spinning about, his mad dance carrying him further into enemy territory. The captains followed in hot pursuit, dodging his attacks while intent upon their own. They knew each other well. And they knew themselves. There was no panicked rout, no barking of orders or need to formulate a strategy. Spell-casters took up positions in the rear, while the more martially inclined stood at the forefront of combat. Spells of unmatched potency spun through the air along with energy blasts that could have decimated an army.

Stark shrugged off their attempts to bind him, laughing at the wounds they inflicted which closed before he could even notice them. But the defenders of the King did not slacken. They gave him no quarter. It was for this reason alone they had been training for centuries, and the time to prove themselves had come. The cream of the shinigami elite took flight on the wings of heavenly battle. Against this powerful but deranged beast, the odds were definitely on their side.

While intent upon the _vasto lorde's _destruction, several of their number still took note when two more soul signatures of astronomical potential rose up behind them, emerging from the black dome that covered several acres before the King's Door.

Their views of them were brief, as these new horrors did not waste time in engaging _Segunda Etapa _to fall upon their opponents from behind, and what had once been a controlled military affair devolved into absolute pandemonium.

The supernatural half-sphere of night extended all around him, but when Aizen stepped into it, he paid the effects no mind. With his own helmet on, Tosen's ultimate technique did little more than make it appear as if he were viewing the world through a piece of blue-tinted glass. This level of power simply couldn't penetrate anymore. However, it did serve to hide his own strength from anyone outside its reach. This allowed him to sample the environment for a few seconds without bothering to defend himself from attack. And so the would-be god got his first direct feel of the place he had sacrificed so much to reach.

It was heavenly.

Not so much the reiatsu, which was fine as gossamer against his skin, the air like a cup of choicest saké in his throat. But rather owing to the view.

Far away from where he stood, Sōsuke got an intriguing look at the calamity they had arranged together. His servants were awash in a veritable sea of white robes. Hundreds of them, it would seem. Stark was transported beyond his usual brace of madness, howling and laying about him with delighted frenzy. His jaws already held the mauled bodies of several victims. Impaled on those stalactite-sized teeth, he chewed on them like so many fat bleeding cigars. There were tears rolling down his scarred black muzzle. From what Aizen could tell, the enemy was having a difficult time just keeping him occupied in one place.

How horrified would they be if he informed them that this was only the _Primera's resurrección_, and not even his _Segunda Etapa_, the second stage?

Considering that even he, Aizen, was intimidated by the prospect, probably a great deal. And yet it gave him pride to look upon it. This thing, that he had released and now commanded into battle, was the premier among his outriders of prophesied carnage. Even like this, its power still eclipsed any other except his own. A berserker who slaughtered all in its path with frenzied abandon, regardless of age, health or status. The Bringer of Conflict, whose howl was a call to battle presaging the Twilight of the Gods: Ragnarok.

The _Fenris Ulf_.

War.

A little ways off, the sea of snow-draped fighters was being met with a mob of black to match. Seen from a distance, this seething flow resembled a dark tarry sludge that bubbled over the ground with furious intensity. Further examination revealed it to be more reminiscent of a hive of insects. An ant colony of sorts that had been roused by its royalty to give battle to some invader. But in truth, they were nothing of the sort. Aizen knew that the captains of Squad Zero were finding themselves faced with an army of vermin, black skeletal rats the size of small dogs. This mass of diseased filth was flowing forth to strip the flesh off anything they came in contact with, a hungry crowd that could deliver a lethal plague-born illness with the smallest scratch or bite. Several men and women were fighting off this onslaught with visible signs of disease spreading across their faces. And this was all flowing out from the source of that contagion.

In his second stage, Barragan Luisenbarn still remained a skeleton but had lost the resemblance to humanity he previously affected as the dullahan. Gone was the fleshless mare on which he rode. Now he was a giant, fifteen feet tall, with six arms each holding great curved steel scimitars of Arabic origin in their bony grips. The ragged cloak of his dress had metamorphosed into rich robes of velvet, still black, but now mimicking the attire of a deceased Turkish pasha. His verminous brood swarmed out of his sleeves, from under the hem of his robe, down the front of his jacket and off him without causing any apparent irritation. That formerly headless torso now seemed to be making up for its previous appearance, boasting a profusion of skulls. And they were all those of rats, bare bone with prodigious incisors clacking and screeching while empty eye sockets glared out maliciously at the world it sought to infest. Atop this small mound was one head in particular that sported a gleaming golden crown fashioned like a spike. Wielding its horde of infectious followers and corrupting blades, this new menace was forcing all the captains in its vicinity to either take flight or to the air if possible.

This was the second horseman. The Curse of Man. A walking plague-ship that threatened any civilization it came across with utter ruin.

The _Maus_ _König_.

Pestilence.

And then came the _Tercera_, who for all that she was considered the least powerful of the trio was proving to be the most dangerous to the enemy at this point in time. There was no visible correlation between what Tia Harribel had looked like before and what she was now. The link was more a literary one than anything else. In _Segunda Etapa, _Tia had discarded her mantle of the sea-witch Scylla and taken on that legend's more inhuman counterpart.

Floating over the battlefield was something that could be mistaken for an enormous round mirror. The frame was alive, however, a twisted brown organic ring with the texture of gnarled wood, out of which sprouted at various intervals a dozen malformed grasping arms with long yellowed nails. But in the center of the frame, in place of reflective glass, there was a black void. Not in the manner of an absence of anything, for there was something to be seen. More like one could not look at it for long without risking the danger of being consumed by it. For that was Harribel's ultimate form. She was an empty hole of hunger, gobbling up everything in her path. Trees, grass, even the air they breathed; it all was pulled loose from its moorings and swallowed by that insatiable pit, disappearing along with any people not smart enough to get clear of its reach. The effect happened on both sides of the thing, leaving there no safe zone from which to confront it head-on. Any attacks, no matter their strength, were simply devoured by the personification of starvation herself. At the center of the monster, within that black hole, two beautiful green eyes stared hungrily out at the world in anticipation of its meal.

She was the third harbinger of the Apocalypse. The Feasting Cannibal, insatiable glutton who made no distinction between eating a haunch of lamb or devouring children in their beds. In her wake there was not even a scrap upon which one could find nourishment. She was an ogress that prayed upon man's most ancient fear, of being set upon and devoured as they did with lesser beasts.

The _Charybdis._

Famine.

Aizen watched them tear into the force of fighters like dogs let off the leash. He had promised them a harrowing conflict, and here it was at last. Hundreds of the most powerful souls throughout history arrayed against himself and a small handful of others. He had gambled on their unspeakable power being able to win the day for him. But should any of the _vasto lorde _fall, there was always the final hand to play. His own.

Ensconced in his Hollow helm, Sōsuke Aizen had become the _trimūrti_. The triple-featured god of all creation. Three skull faces had he, all spaced evenly around his neck, each of them bone of such purest white it might have been crafted from marble for how it glowed. An orb like the moon hovered overhead, a testament to his divinity. He saw all, and power poured from him with such intensity that it was visible to the naked eye. Sōsuke's body burned with a celestial radiance. No effort was made to stop this. Let the ignorant common folk see the full extent of heavenly majesty and vengeance that had risen far above their pitiful efforts to dissuade it, and now stood poised to rule over them all!

At a signal to his subordinate, the black dome vanished. With supreme confidence, the heir of the Takuiyoku name stepped forward into the plane of his distant ancestor.

They all felt his presence, such that for a moment the frenzied fighting actually ceased, distracted by the feeling of the moon descending down to earth. Even Coyote lifted his muzzle, snuffling in eagerness.

The crown-mask lifted skyward, and Sōsuke Aizen roared.

"_**BOW TO YOUR KING!"**_

This command, while undoubtedly worth considering, ultimately did not dissuade Zero Squad. They came about and attacked Aizen as well, and he did not bother with words after this. Tosen came to his defense, and then the battle was joined in earnest.

* * *

The dignitary Ichinose watched this war commence. He could see once more, and hear. But Kuwabakara honestly wished that whatever ailment had afflicted him would return, for the mere sight of that hellish figure was enough to wring him dry of any spirit energy. Crushed by the white demon's presence, he lay on his side, twitching and utterly humbled, waiting for death to come and take him.

As he did, someone came walking up to him. He felt it. Simply turning his head proved impossible, so all he could manage was to strain his eyes in the right direction.

There was a woman standing there. One he knew well. Beautiful as ever, she had once been a member of the court, feared and revered for long before his soul ever came to the afterlife. But she was banished; some said for failure to do her duty, others claimed at her own insistence. Still, that name and history remained as one of the greatest warriors ever to serve.

Unohana Retsu spared him a perfunctory glance devoid of feeling.

I'm dying, his face pleaded with her. Please. Save me.

She recognized the look. How could she not, after seeing it from so many people throughout the centuries?

But this was all she had to say.

"Ban-kai."

The sword slung across her shoulder transformed into green smoke that quickly turned red, growing at a phenomenal rate. Something took shape on that scorched plane, a creature not seen for ages of the world.

"_Minazuzenshou._"

And she walked past the dying man, leaving him behind without a single concern for his safety. Her guardian spirit screamed out in many tongues to announce to her forsworn colleagues that she was coming to kill them.

Thus Captain Unohana abandoned her long-held duty in full.

* * *

In their current situation, a lesser man might be anxious, agitated, or even aggressive. But Byakuya was none of these things. Instead, the veteran military commander was determining just how the environment had changed in the last few minutes and how it affected his own position.

For starters, there were significantly less enemies to deal with at this time. That was certainly a plus. Aizen, his shinigami lackies, and all but one of the _vasto lorde _had departed from this sphere to another where their chances of survival were rather slight, if rumors could be believed. Even with their awesome individual power, they would be up against literally hundreds of captain-class fighters. The possibility that they might simply find themselves overwhelmed was not to be ignored. Which was why taking control of this particular strategic area and preventing it from being used as an escape hatch by those wretches was of such vital importance.

_Yes, all may not be lost. Regardless of what Aizen thinks, there are undoubtedly a few noteworthy warriors left on this side of the gap. If we do manage to wrest control of the portal away from their rear guard, then we could conceivably trap them between opposing forces, or conduct surprise attacks should they make an attempt to retreat back here._

So, then. Where does that leave us?

Standing with his arms crossed by the pair of slumbering maidens, Captain Kuchiki took note of his assets and concerns without giving any sign of movement at all. His eyes remained fixed on a point right in front of him, but all the same, his superior training allowed a full perusal of the board, as it were.

His allies were more hindrance than aid in his calculations. The women were now both protected by spells of his casting. Neither of their enemies had bothered to interfere when he saw fit to provide for their safety. Ichigo Kurosaki remained enmeshed in the traitorous fop's vines. His depleted condition precluded him from being of any aid in a forthcoming battle. Instead, Byakuya regarded him as another potential helpless victim, just like Rukia and Orihime Inoue. Someone that this vermin could conceivably threaten to ensure his cooperation.

His enemies were in a much more secure position in terms of their fates.

The remaining _vasto lorde_, Ulquiorra Schiffer, had been staring at Kurosaki since his appearance, like the boy held all the answers in the world. Occasionally the creature's eye would swivel about to take in the rest of the room's occupants, but the majority of his attention remained on that orange-headed buffoon. It was not difficult to determine why Schiffer was so apprehensive. According to Ichigo, he had nearly killed the _Espada _in their last battle, an experience that neither of them had been able to predict. Only an unforeseen interference had permitted Ulquiorra to claim nominal victory. Strangely enough, Byakuya found himself relating to that winged nightmare. He knew full well what it was like to think yourself about to deliver a final blow against the shinigami substitute, only to suddenly find you were fighting for your life against an entity so deranged and seemingly all-powerful that it left little room for victory, much less survival. That had been a distressing enough eye-opener for the Lord of the Kuchiki in terms of his perceived superiority. He wondered how the _Espada _was going about coming to grips with the idea that a mere human had the potential to vanquish him altogether.

_If it is anything like you, probably suffering from a massive blow to the ego, and not looking forward to a repeat. Hence its attention being focused solely on the child. That could be turned to our advantage._

Indeed. Now, as to the other…

Yumichika Ayasegawa, the betrayer, was sauntering around in his simultaneously cocky-yet-prissy manner. Like he owned the place already, and was busy examining the feng shui and determining where would be the most conducive spot to place some rugs to achieve perfect harmony in the decor. With a queer sort of fascination, the shinigami nobleman watched him stoop and run his fingers across the floor, then make a face and brush them absently on his pants to remove some perceived blemish. He then stood up with a yawn, laced his hands behind his head and turned around to spot Byakuya. Though their eyes did not meet, the miserable hyena beamed at him like they were old friends before continuing to pad along his way.

What are we faced with?

_The Hollow is without a doubt your most dangerous adversary. Its power is making us sick just by standing there. Byakuya, forgive me, I do not think we can kill it alone. _

We will leave the proof of that judgment for after I bury you between his eyes. What else?

_You were right to be suspicious of that other deviant so long ago. But all the same, we can't underestimate him. If he was able to overcome Kurosaki, there is clearly something about him we were not aware of. To ignore him could cost us greatly._

So we are secure in attacking neither of them. What do you recommend?

_You will not like to hear it._

Say it anyway. You always do.

_We must retreat._

Never. But speak on.

_You need help if you are to stand a chance of overcoming them. Captains, lieutenants, it does not matter. Just someone to offset the clear numerical edge they now possess. Or at least to spirit the captives away from here to allow you to fight more effectively. We must have allies. _

Yes. The safety of the hostages is something we can see to affecting. We must take the time to…

Of a sudden Schiffer disappeared, only to rematerialize standing in front of where Ichigo Kurosaki lay.

_Time's up._

_

* * *

_

Why is he still alive?

_How _is he still alive?

These were the thoughts that were costing the _Cuarta Espada _his usual dispassionate ambivalence. In its current place was a sort of… unease. And those questions all revolved around one solid and seemingly undeniable truth.

Ichigo Kurosaki was alive.

Unblinking, the black and green orbs watched the human. Every breath he took was an inexplicable affront. Each flick of his head or the slightest movement in his limbs should not be allowed.

Because I killed him.

Three times now I have killed him. The first time… was not decisive enough. I left the matter open for further interpretation, I will admit that. There was a chance, however miniscule, that he might survive. And when that proved to be the case, I increased my interest accordingly. I showed him the true extent of the power that he challenged. When he still refused to understand something so simple, I removed any room for argument and simply destroyed him fully.

And he stood back up again. That was not something I could ever have anticipated. Even more alarmi… (no, insulting, that was what I meant to say)… more insulting than this was his transformation into a Hollow. How did that happen? There was no time to wonder during the fight, and no need afterwards, but if I were to posit a solution now, perhaps it has to do with the fact that his soul is what might still be considered 'alive', being that there remains a heart and body that he is physically tied to. So if he is a living being, then killing his shinigami spirit would really just be like terminating a regular corporeal human, meaning that some measure of a bodiless soul would be the end result. And that was what I fought the third time. Yes, that makes sense.

But then, I killed that Hollow too. And there is nothing after our deaths but dissolution, unless we are killed by a shinigami. And I am an _arrancar_.

So what…

What is he doing here?

_Alive?_

Motionless, Ulquiorra kept right on staring at this incomprehensible oddity. He was trying to come to terms with something that spoke to the very core of his existence as an _Espada_.

I am the Fourth. I am Death. When I kill someone, they must remain dead. It is what I represent in the universe, as the other three have their proper expression. Though there are alternatives. The girl, for instance. Inoue Orihime. She can reverse the effects of death upon a body. It was partly for this reason that I removed her from Hueco Mundo once the fight was over, to prevent any possibility of her performing resuscitation upon the boy. None of the other healers can achieve the same effect, at least not to that extent. So when I left his corpse behind, that should have been the end of it. No further cause for concern. The matter was settled for good. It was over, he was dead.

But no longer. Now, he is alive.

That…

That is impossible.

It is impossible for him to live after what I did to him. So why? Why am I still forced to consider him? Ichigo Kurosaki… he should be dead. He must be, he is, WILL BE…

Alive.

ImpossiBLE.

The black-and-white ghost found himself moving forward then, faster than any eyes in the room could perceive. He drew up before the irregularity, stared down at that face, and watched it look right back at him, a scowl plastered firmly across it.

This should not be happening.

"Why are you alive?" he murmured in a very calm and controlled manner.

And when the boy responded, Schiffer felt something come apart inside his head.

* * *

While considering how much longer he could be expected to live, Ichigo was forced to revise his estimate when Ulquiorra popped up and fixed him with those dead killer's eyes.

"Why are you alive?"

The Hollow sounded like he was walking a high-wire over a nervous breakdown. A sensible, level-headed person would realize that this was not the time to make smart-ass comments.

Of course, rather than either of those two things, Ichigo was a teenager with a big mouth.

"Because you suck at killing people?"

Immediately he could tell that was the wrong thing to say. The slit pupils narrowed down to a hair's width, and the next thing he knew, the substitute shinigami was hoisted off his knees with a demon's nails digging into his throat.

"Why… are you… _alive?"_

Kind of hard to field that question while he was being strangled to death. Actually, it's funny, the question might answer itself.

Geez, I must be as crazy as my Hollow to not be freaked out by this.

For a brief instant, Byakuya Kuchiki appeared at the Hollow's elbow, and Senbonzakura flashed down. It never connected, as Ulquiorra's tail whipped into the prince's stomach and slapped him aside with less effort than it took to draw breath. After that it was more choking, held fast in the cords that bound him.

I could use a little help right now.

"Pardon me. _Espada_-san?"

And then it was Yumichika standing beside them, smiling gamely and toying with his hair.

"Aizen-san did rather _explicitly _insist that everyone here remain alive unless absolutely necessary. And what you're doing seems to be going against the spirit of that ruling. So unless you think our gracious leader likes to have his wishes ignored…" he reached up and began to gently pry at the ebony claw that was suffocating Ichigo,"… you'll let Master Kurosaki have a bit more air and we can all be friends again. Come on, now, ease up, ease up."

Even mentioning his master's name didn't appear to affect the hostile mood of the vampire lord. But apparently some form of inner debate did take place, for after a moment his stiff fingers loosened somewhat, and then at last opened altogether, dropping the coughing captive to the floor.

"Beautiful!" Yumichika proclaimed. "Glad to see you can still be reasoned with."

Schiffer directed a flat stare at that charming rogue which seemed to indicate he would be willing to bifurcate him at a moment's notice.

He then turned and strode off, having apparently lost all stomach for even looking at any of them in the foreseeable future.

Not feeling exactly grateful, Ichigo was annoyed when that treacherous pansy-ass turned his attention on him.

"Honestly, young man," Ayasegawa sighed. "Don't you have a single lick of self-preservation in that overblown head of yours?"

"Kiss my ass."

A casual slap was his response. It hurt, but Ichigo was determined not to show it.

His one-time comrade crouched in front of him. "If I didn't know her better, I would think Rukia-chan was some sort of masochist, chaining herself to you."

Good old comfortable anger made him clench his teeth 'til they ground together. "If you say her name again, I'll kill you. Don't ask me how. But I will."

Those soft sensuous lips puckered, and a tsking sound emerged.

Then Yumichika bent a little closer.

"If Big Brother Byakuya and that Hollow weren't listening in on us, I'd tell you things about our dear little…" He paused and smirked. "…Kuchiki-chan… that would make you weep like a baby. I've had a lot of time to get to know her, after all. Oh, that sweet, sad little angel. I was practically her only confidante for the longest time."

The lilac-eyed lothario sighed and produced a handkerchief from his robes, dabbing at his eyes in what was meant to be a grieving manner.

Ichigo wished his head would explode.

"Yes, we were the best of friends. And then…" The piercing orbs flicked open and fastened on his prisoner's face. "You came along. And everything I had hoped for her to achieve went right out the window. She lost her power, got arrested, was sentenced to die, and very nearly did. All because of you. And what's worse, afterwards I actually had to hear about you. She told me your entire life story, and since I was her true friend, I had to sit there and pretend to be interested in you! According to her, you were the most incredible person to ever come along. But it was clear to me that our dear little princess was simply blinded by love. She just couldn't appreciate that none of those awful things would have happened had you simply been a good boy and died along with your mother long ago."

"YOU SON OF A-!"

One supple hand clamped around his jaw before he could finish that curse. The grip was so strong he couldn't move at all. Ichigo's eyes blazed up at the monster, wishing to sink his teeth into that pretty face, rip it off and spit it back at him, taste the freak's blood in his…

Mouth.

"Normally I would kill you for speaking in such an ugly vein to me. But I did promise you a favor once. For rescuing dear Rukia. And so that debt buys you a second chance at life."

Ichigo stared in confusion.

There was something in his mouth.

"Try to use it wisely, won't you?"

And with that, Yumichika covered his own mouth with the back of his free hand and yawned.

As he did, his captive noticed something. There appeared to be dark lines on the man's palm. A second later he recognized them to be letters, and a moment after that his brain had worked them out.

This was a trick he had seen before, after all. Rukia had done it to get his attention that first day she showed up in his class dressed like an average high-schooler. _'Say a word and I'll kill you', _the message scrawled on her hand had read, visible to his eyes only.

This time it was something different.

Now the lines said, _'Bite down when I tell you'._

Without another word, the perfumed fighter released his mouth and stood back up. He adjusted his clothes with great care. His face was cool as ice. No more smiles.

Yumichika then turned around and trotted off, leaving Ichigo with the taste of flower petals on his tongue.

* * *

They were all watching him. Yumichika could feel their eyes as he walked away from the boy. Byakuya Kuchiki looked ready to kill him if he so much as breathed in his direction. That exhibitionist Ulquiorra could have been dead for all the expression on his corpse-white face. And of course, Ichigo no doubt couldn't take his eyes off him.

_Ah. I love being the center of attention. _

I'm glad one of us is happy. Your master is rather terrified right now.

_Don't be like that. You might just survive this!_

You know that's not what I meant.

_She'll be all right. I bet my life on it._

You ready?

_Prim, pressed, and ready to sparkle!_

You're beautiful, Fuji Kujaku.

_YOU SON OF A-_

Before she could finish, the weapon's wielder raised the handkerchief to his face, concealed inside of which were several of the petals he had harvested that contained the Kurosaki boy's god-like power.

They'll be talking about this for ages. His eyes strayed over to where Rukia lay. Wish she were awake to see this.

With that, he smiled and called out merrily, "Bite your tongue, Master Kurosaki!"

Without waiting for a response, Yumichika Ayasegawa proceeded to chew the flowers in his mouth while whipping out his own zanpakutō. "Split and Deviate, _Rui'iro Kujaku!_"

A bomb went off in his head.

So this is what it feels like…

Beautiful.

Behind him, another explosion occurred, and then things got very interesting.

* * *

Twin supernovae of power, so familiar, exploded in the center of the Court of Pure Souls, and Yoruichi bared her teeth in a savage grin.

Hurry up, Kūkaku!

The Goddess of Flash then sped off.

* * *

Both Ulquiorra and Byakuya turned their heads, mirror images of disbelief as an amazing amount of reiatsu hit them at the same time. Wide-eyed, they saw Ichigo Kurosaki glowing with a light so intense it bathed them in its pure full strength. The cords which had previously bound him fell limply away, and he began to rise while shouting out his release.

"BAN-"

The _Espada _wasted no further time and flew forth fast as only he could be. Byakuya was pitifully slow by comparison. His sword hadn't even begun to rise before Schiffer had reached his target, talons extending to take the boy's life.

A foot took him square in the face, sending him spinning off course.

The prince of nightmare's wings spread out to the full, and he skimmed lightly over the wall, banking around to the center of the room. Not injured. Who was that? It felt like…

Yumichika Ayasegawa stood poised in front of Ichigo, radiating the exact same level and brand of spirit power as the shinigami substitute. Ruri'iro Kujaku had cultivated and regulated that unnatural amount of energy to suit his systems and prevent it from incinerating his body. The weapon now metamorphosed into a pair of waving blue-green peacock feathers that sprouted from his shoulder-blades.

Before anyone could question this display, there came a completion to the previous sentence.

"-KAI!"

And then Kurosaki was dressed in his red and black coat, a midnight katana clenched in his fist.

Ulquiorra was not intimidated. Nor was he impressed, interested, or even irate.

What he felt was the closest thing there was in his being to happiness.

Now, human. You will die.

Yumichika never took his eyes off the _Espada_. He spoke only one word.

"FIGHT!"

No arguments. Not even a chance to, as the _vasto lorde _came for them then, awash with his full power in a way that rendered even the two now captain-class fighters nigh meaningless by comparison. This wouldn't even be a contest.

And suddenly the air was filled with flower petals.

Senbonzakura Kageyoshi then came down on Ulquiorra hard, enveloping him in a rain of shards.

At the heart of that razor-sharp waterfall, the attack was caught on a black umbrella composed of his wings. Its strength caused the _Cuarta_ to bend over slightly, but acclimating himself to it, he simply pushed outwards and dispelled the assault. At this point the embodiment of Death was planning on pulling the head off that insignificant shinigami before returning to his immediate target.

Before he could, Yumichika drop-kicked him in the back of the skull, and already off balance, he staggered forward face-first into a Black Getsuga Tenshou.

Smoking slightly but lacking any noticeable damage, Ulquiorra considered his situation briefly. Three different combatants, all of captain-level power, and all of them with different fighting styles.

They would be dead in less than a minute.

* * *

Zaraki Kenpachi was in the midst of a pack of Huge Hollows, gorging himself on the thrill of battle, when he started having a conversation.

_Hey. _

Yeah?

_Were you really going to kill yourself for her sake?_

Damn straight!

_I'm glad._

Whatever.

And he went back to chopping.

* * *

When Ishida absolutely refused to continue unless he put some clothes on first, Mayuri was forced to leave in pursuit of some suitable raiment. He grumbled all the way out of the room about 'poor quality of specimens these days'. This left the Quincy alone with the captain's daughter.

"Are you ready?" Nemu asked him.

Ishida looked up at her, standing there with the ghastly form of the 'Divine Worm' in her hands. With a nod, he pulled his shirt off and turned around.

"There will be pain. Mayuri-sama intended for you to suffer no matter what, so he made sure that this process would be excruciating."

"Just do it before he comes back," Uryū said while trying his best not to shiver. "I can at least deprive him of the pleasure of watching it happen."

"As you wish."

Something pierced his spine at the base of his neck, and he knew nothing save agony.

* * *

Yumichika tried to punch him, and the _Espada _simply dodged behind him and delivered a blow to his spine. Expecting to cut the man in half, he was mildly surprised when all that happened was his backbone snapped in half.

Well, that works too.

As the broken man collapsed gagging to the floor, someone else volunteered to die. "_Black Coffin,"_ Byakuya chanted, encasing the pallid devil in a magician's death-trap. Magic blades flared out from all sides.

A single sweep of his tail obliterated the box, and Ulquiorra came free without a mark on him. The monster dove for the captain, and a wall of pink petals came up before him. This meant nothing. He just pushed right through them as though they weren't there. A rain of swords fell in his path, but his wings brushed them away effortlessly. Kuchiki raised one of his blades to stab him, and while he was still slogging through that effort, the Hollow simply drove his fingers through the man's chest and left him there to die.

He immediately turned his sights on Ichigo once more.

For whatever reason, the human hadn't donned his Hollow mask since the fight began. It was safe to assume that this was not because he felt himself capable of defeating the _vasto lorde _without it. More like the option didn't exist for him at this time. Perhaps I actually did kill his Hollow half. Good. Let it stay that way. I can send its master after it.

And this time, there will be no miracle, no revival. Just dead, as it is meant to be.

When he flew forwards, Schiffer could see the fear and anger seething in the lone fighter's face. Kurosaki swung Tensa Zangetsu in a pitiful attempt to cut him in half. Ulquiorra caught the attack on his horns. With a mere flick of his head, the twin prongs tore the sword out of Ichigo's fingers and sent it spinning off to the side.

And then he had the shinigami substitute by the throat, lifting him up to struggle like a child before him.

All his attention focused on this moment. The head, he thought to himself. Start with the head this time. Yes. That will end it once and for all. Pull it off and vaporize it. Then destroy the whole body. Impossible to revive after that.

No one… can come back from that…

His fingers tightened, and he expected to see blood.

"Hyōten…"

But instead…

"…Hyakkaso."

…there was snow.

Ulquiorra and Ichigo both blinked as a single snowflake fell between them. It was so weird a sight they just watched the lacy crystal dance through the air and settle on the _Espada's _skin. At this moment, each realized there was someone in the room who had not been there a second past.

Why didn't I feel him coming?

A burst of power, and Ulquiorra's forearm was encased in ice.

More fell. Into his hair, all over his wings, chest, legs. It was a miniature snowstorm. But none of it seemed to be touching Kurosaki. That made no sense. Unfair.

Schiffer was thinking this as a hundred snowflakes exploded all at once, freezing him into a pillar of ice.

* * *

"Petals!" Yumichika managed to gasp through his agony. "In… front!"

"Got it."

Keeping an eye on the new-made crystal coffin farther off, Yoruichi reached a hand into his robe and pulled out a few of the iridescent turquoise buds, noticing something odd beneath the cloth as she did. When he opened his mouth wide, she understood instantly and placed them inside.

He bit down, and the dwindling evidence of his life force suddenly roared back to full strength plus more. Ayasegawa's spine was completely healed, and he came back up fairly shining with power to regard his naked savior. She peered at him closely.

"Body armor?"

Yumichika nodded. "Kurotsuchi-brand. Knew I would need all the protection I could get."

No more time for chit-chat. "Do you have it?" she asked, her face a mask of trepidation that still managed to look ferociously gorgeous.

"Here," and he reached into his pants pocket and handed her the golden Key that had lain forgotten by all until he had picked it up earlier.

She snatched it away, tying up the priceless artifact in the ribbon that bound her ponytail to dangle like some shiny bauble next to another round orb. Her fierce luminous eyes flicked over to the two girls still huddled unharmed under several layers of magic shields, and then to where Byakuya sprawled bleeding off to one side.

"I can heal him too," he assured her swiftly. "Kurosaki gave me power to spare. Just go do what you have to do!"

They both sprang up. Yoruichi turned away, glancing back at him over her shoulder. "Don't let either of them come after me, him or Ulquiorra!"

A nod of understanding, and then she crouched low and shot heavenwards, towards the hole in the universe that still lay open virtually unnoticed above their heads.

Yoruichi Shihoin flew into the King's Gate, heading towards the Land of the Gods.

Without a second wasted, Ayasegawa then raced over and fed the dying prince of Kuchiki some of Ruri'iro Kujaku's rejuvenating petals, wrapping his vines around him to control the energy input which would otherwise be rejected by his body as an invasive element.

When a cracking noise came from behind him, he spun around to continue the fight without a single thought for how close he had just come to dying.

* * *

"GAAH!" With a strangled scream, Ichigo swung Zangetsu and cut through Ulquiorra's wrists.

Those hands, which were the only parts of him sticking out of that frozen tomb, came cleanly away, and the captive collapsed to the floor and pulled the clammy fingers off his throat, kicking them frantically away as they started to twitch.

"Get up, Kurosaki-san! That won't hold him for long!"

He then found himself being hoisted off the ground by one arm. Looking down, Ichigo saw Hitsugaya Tōshirō glaring up at him.

Strangely enough, the first question he thought to ask was, "Are you the only one?"

The child officer glowered at him, and it was just like old times.

"I only got here first," Tōshirō snapped in reply. "The cloth tie for my scabbard is a teleportation charm Matsumoto gave me, like the scarf she wears on her arm. That's how I made it here before the rest."

Suddenly there was a blur that sped up towards the cloud-covered door in the ceiling. Kurosaki blinked in confusion.

"Who…?"

A crack split the ice pillar, and Hitsugaya leapt backwards, dragging Ichigo with him.

Ichigo snatched up Zangetsu where it had fallen. "I can't use my Hollow mask!" he shouted desperately.

"We don't have to kill him!" the frost titan screamed back as though he understood what that meant. "We just need to hold him off!"

And then the Flower Funeral simply melted in an instant, eaten up by a vortex of black reiatsu springing from the body of the freed _Cuarta Espada._

_

* * *

_

His hands grew back. Schiffer's eyes opened wide, and he saw everything around him.

No. It couldn't be. Kurosaki was alive. And those two… he had left them gasping out their last breaths on the ground. How could they be moving?

Four of them now. The number of enemies had actually grown. But that should make no difference. He was _vasto lorde. _It was unthinkable that he might fall to any meager gathering of shinigami. The natural order would not allow for such a senseless thing to occur. There should be no doubt as to the outcome of this fight.

As long as they obeyed the rules regarding death.

As long as they all remain dead after I kill them, and make no attempts to return.

What matter that they call themselves 'death gods'? I am Death. There is nothing I cannot kill.

They all moved to encircle him. Ulquiorra spread his arms and exhaled slowly, breath a cold misty frost. His eyes came to rest on the determined stare being given him by Ichigo Kurosaki. I am tired of that face. Tired of having to look at him and hear his voice, take his paltry attacks and wonder if this is the last time we will ever meet. There can be no doubt. I know what I have to do. It is the reason I exist.

"You can't live," the expressionless executioner droned. "I… won't… _permit it."_

_

* * *

_

Grimmjow skidded backwards. Renji followed, swinging his burning lash.

Behind the lines of battle, the tower of dark reiatsu disappeared from this plane.

Jeaguerjaques' eyes went wide.

**Now! Aizen is gone! Do as your king commands! KILL THEM ALL!**

YES!

"**KILL THEM ALL!"** he roared, and threw himself into battle once more.

* * *

Mayuri came back into the room, tugging a plain white lab coat around herself. She looked down at the body crumpled on the floor.

"Is he dead?" she asked.

Nemu knelt and touched Ishida's throat. "No."

A dismissive grunt that might have held disappointment came from her creator.

Then the captain said, "Bring him. He can revive on the way."

His daughter obeyed, and they marched from the room with her parent in the lead.

"Oh," Mayuri remarked over his shoulder. "This reminds me. Has the CY-9000 Anti-Arrancar module activated yet?"

"Yes, Mayuri-sama. It came online a few minutes past."

"Wonderful. I hope it proves worthy of the time we invested in it."

* * *

"STOP, IKKAKU-SAN!" Hanatarō yelled desperately, holding onto the bald fighter's waist and being dragged down the street for his efforts. "You're still seriously injured, you can't engage in battle yet! Please, return to the aid station and we will treat you!"

"Like hell!" the Third seat of Squad Eleven grunted, not slowing his stride in spite of the ninety-pound weakling hanging off him. "I've recovered enough. It's time to see some action!"

"But you can't! If you do, you'll…!"

Approaching the Western Gate out of the Seireitei, the voice of the frantic healer was cut off when the doors before them blasted inward.

Jidanbō Ikkanzaka, the gate guardian, tumbled backwards and landed flat on his back. Through the smoking hole left by his exit, a mass of Hollows began to swarm through. Coming up behind them was a great slopping worm-like thing. Its body was pulled along by hundreds of arms, tentacles and nameless appendages too grotesque to describe. Slime oozed off its putrescent form. At the front of the odious brute was a tremendous face, with bulging chariot-wheel eyes and what looked to be… buck-teeth.

"GNAAAAAH! YOG-SOTHOTH!" the worm-beast moaned, squeezing its repellant bulk through the opening and coming into Seireitei proper.

Hanatarō wanted to run, but sadly he seemed to be frozen with his arms still wrapped around Ikkaku.

"Well, well." Madarame put a hand on his hip and grinned. "Seems to me I recognize that stupid face." He cupped a hand to his mouth and called out in a loud voice. "OI! IS THAT YOU, WONDERWEISS? YOU'RE LOOKIN' A HELL OF A LOT UGLIER THAN I REMEMBER, YA DUMB BASTARD!"

The disgusting thing reared up, rolling its eyes. "YOG…SOTHOTH!" And it began to slop over to where the giant Jidanbō lay unconscious.

"Okay, I get it. Your released name's Yogurt-Softserve now." And the bald barbarian unhooked the segments of his pole and began to twirl the bladed end round and around. "Guess I'll be getting some _arrancar _action right off the bat!" He began to move forward, then stopped and glanced down irritably. "Yo, Hanatarō-san, let go already. Me and this sweaty maggot got some unfinished business to take care of."

No response was forthcoming.

"Hey! You shit your pants or something? Get outta here before I…!"

"_Arrancar_…"

Madarame paused.

"_Arrancar_ presence detected," a monotone, dead voice sounded beneath him. "Initiating the CY-9000 Anti-Arrancar offensive system."

What the hell?

And then he was surprised to find himself flung aside.

Picking himself up off the street, the Third seat shouted furiously, "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, YAMADA-SAN?"

The breath caught in his throat.

Before him, Hanatarō Yamada was undergoing a transformation. As Ikkaku watched in astonishment, something sprouted out of the left side of his head, revealing itself to be a mechanical device with a round red implement on its end. This bizarre thing flipped over and slapped over Yamada's eye. A tiny radio dish also sprouted from his left ear. The back of his uniform tore open, and two steel worms shot out. They anchored to his shoulders, their mouths opening to reveal an array of missiles. The spindly kid's right elbow sprouted metal plates that swiftly wound together and grew out until they metamorphosed into a meter-long Vulcan machine gun that completely encased his lower arm. A similar occurrence turned the left arm into a chainsaw that ground and smoked loudly. From out of his stomach it looked as if a hatch popped open, from which rolled the barrel of a massive cannon. The soles of his sandals split open to reveal a set of wheels, and long curved blades emerged where his toes had been.

Unbeknownst to Madarame, there were words of command trundling through his compatriot's head.

/_All modifications confirmed. Active threat mode engaged. Begin elimination of arrancar presence/_

Combined with this was the sound of his zanpakutō Hisagomaru, which had only one thing to say.

_Holy…crap…!_

/_Enemy targets acquired! GO, CYBORG YAMADA!/_

"Affirmative."

And the stiff-legged war machine rolled forward, the chain-gun on his arm whirring to life and shooting out hundreds of projectiles per minute. Caught in a hail of bullets, Hollows shrieked and dove for cover. But Hanatarō did not stop there.

"Laser Cornea!"

A bright pink beam sliced from his free eye straight out across his field of vision. Any number of demons flopped over cut neatly in half, followed by several buildings that collapsed in on themselves, sending a wash of dust and wind blowing over the three shinigami. Undeterred, Yamada opened his mouth.

"Napalm Lung!"

And fire belched forward from his intestines, a dragon's fury that lit the surroundings ablaze along with any enemies it encountered. The attack washed over Wonderweiss, causing the deformed squid to rear up blubbering and shrieking. With its underbelly exposed, a flurry of missiles was unleashed from his shoulder-mounted rocket launchers and exploded against the brute's gut.

Jidanbō had roused himself by this point and slowly sat up, shaking his massive head and wondering how long he had been out. Seeing the tableau of devastation before him, his mouth fell open like a barn door.

Yamada Hanatarō drove up to him.

"Ally Ikkanzaka restored to active status. Implementing full offensive strategy."

And then he rolled on into battle, firing brief blasts from the cannon in his belly.

Ikkaku came up to stand beside the flabbergasted behemoth, and the two of them watched in disbelief as that one-man army proceeded to carve a swath through the enemy ranks. They scratched their bald caps and looked at one another questioningly.

A particularly loud boom drew their attention back to the business at hand.

_Ikkaku, if the other guys hear you got shown up by somebody from the Fourth, it's the end of your career as a shinigami. You seriously gonna let him have all the fun?_

Not a chance, Hōzukimaru!

And with a laugh, he twirled his partner and shouted out, "YO, HANATARŌ-SAN, YOU BAD-ASS! WAIT FOR ME!"

The cocky fighter charged forward. Pausing only to retrieve his discarded battle-axes, Jidanbō sprang after him with a wild cry.

* * *

In the very midst of beheading a particularly ugly Hollow, Zaraki turned and sped fast as he could back to the Seireitei.

Had you asked him why, he could not explain it. He did not stop to consider how the men might take it to see one of their only remaining captains seemingly abandoning them. Supposedly they had been trained to continue fighting without the help of guys like him. Wasn't that the whole point of this stuffy, hidebound, constrictive system of governance that Yamamoto was always harping about? To train a cadre of military personnel who could take on any challenge and prevail? Well, hell, it's about time we saw if all that drilling and swordplay was really good for making wimps into winners after all.

And besides, he was still in the middle of a private conversation.

_Do you know where you're going?_

For once in my life, I know exactly where to be. No chance I'll get lost this time.

_How do you know?_

I just do, that's all.

_What I mean is, what do you think is telling you where to go?_

I don't know. You?

_Exactly._

How come you're helping me now, after all this time? What's changed in the last hour? You been busy taking a dump or something?

_I couldn't talk to you before. You wouldn't bother listening._

Sure I would. Been trying to get your attention ever since I lost that fight with Ichigo.

_I mean you wouldn't have been able to understand me. You were completely tuned out to anything other than what you were used to hearing. I can't carry on a conversation with just one word, after all._

What's that mean?

_Why didn't you kill Hisagi the second he turned on you?_

Dumbass! Weren't you listening?

_Why? Answer me!_

Because Yachiru would have died, that's why!

_You've let comrades die before. You've actually killed some of them. What made this one different?_

She's not just a comrade. It's different with her. She's like my…

_What?_

I dunno… But whatever it is, it means something important.

_Would you say she's like a daughter to you?_

Well… yeah. Guess so. What are you getting at?

_What you've been wanting to know for a long time. My name._

You shitting me?

_It's the reason why I couldn't just abandon you long ago, when it looked like you would never bother trying to figure things out. You hated me, and I returned the favor. But you never stopped using me, because you still held on to that one little bit of me that you never had to learn and couldn't bear to live without._

Which is?

_The drive to fight._

That sounds right. Me and Ichigo, we both have that same thing inside us.

_But that's not all you share. And you've finally figured that out._

I have?

_Yes. It came to you back there, when you felt like you were helpless. Unable to do anything. Always before, you just fought your way past any difficulties, no matter the cost. But when it looked like your daughter might die if you did that, you finally had to find another way of doing things. _

You mean killing myself?

_Not so much the act as what it represented. Sacrifice. Specifically, a parent sacrificing themselves in order to protect their child. That goes against one's own sense of survival._

Are you saying that's what your name is? Sacrifice? I don't get it.

_No. I'm all of it. All that contradictory stuff that depends entirely on what you choose to do at the time of action._

Talk sense, already. You're making my head hurt.

_Listen. I can't tell you what it is. You have to be the one who tells me. Figure it out for yourself!_

Tell me your name or not, I don't really give a rat's ass.

_Do you want to live?_

Not particularly. But I don't care to die, either.

_Think harder. Why are you heading back to Seireitei?_

Because there's a big battle going on there. Ichigo's in on it, and I want some too!

_What happens if you don't make it in time?_

He'll probably die, along with everybody else.

_Do you want Ichigo to live?_

Yeah.

_Why?_

So we can duke it out once more!

_When you do fight each other again, will you kill him?_

Of course! Probably. I mean, maybe. Most likely…

_Yes?_

…no. I don't think I want to kill him. He should live. I mean, the kid's not even had a year to fight as a shinigami from what I hear! Young guy like that ought to have more time to get some good battles under his belt, really cut loose, y'know? I've been fighting for ages now, if somebody kills me, it's not like I can say I didn't live life to the fullest. But like I said, he's still a kid. It should be the old ones like me who go first, to make room for fresh, strong fighters!

_What do you call that?_

Hm? I dunno. Common sense?

_NO, dammit! You really infuriate me! You're so close, but you can't wrap your thick head around it! Think!_

You're a lot mouthier than I thought you'd be.

_Listen to me. If you go into this fight without knowing my name, you are going to die, and so fast you won't even know what hit you. Only together do we have a chance! I can feel the soul of the thing Ichigo's fighting, so I know it's true. And conversely, so do you, because as much as I hate to admit I am a part of your SOUL! So think, damn you! Open your ears to what I've been telling you and THINK!_

You're a lot whinier too.

_Damn you… Okay, let's try this. What made you want to seek my aid out?_

I want to get stronger. I don't want to lose again.

_What would you call that?_

Male pride. Is that your name?

_Zaraki Kenpachi._

That's my name. What's yours?

_What is your name?_

You just said it, genius!

_WHAT! IS! YOUR! NAME?_

ZARAKI KENPACHI! THERE, ARE YOU HAPPY?

_Now. What is my name?_

I don't…

_This is easy. So easy you'll kick yourself when you finally figure it out. It's been dancing on the tip of your tongue this whole time, but you keep picking out different words for it. Maybe you'll get it if I ask you this: all the different situations we've just talked about; knowing where you have to be without being told; sacrificing yourself for your child; fighting to keep alive; letting a new generation take the reins; what one word describes all of that?_

One word?

_Yes. Say that one word._

It's…

_Say it. Speak my name!_

You're…

_COME ON!_

YOU…ARE…!

And leaping high over the walls of the Court of Pure Souls, the Kenpachi opened his mouth and screamed. His body was on fire, and this undiluted force tore out of his lungs with a strength that sent his next word blasting out to reverberate over the sound of Armageddon itself. It carried with it a primal threat such that every living thing who heard it quaked fearfully, obeying the call of…

"_HONNOU!"_

…Instinct.

* * *

Heaven looks a lot like Hell, Yoruichi decided.

The sky of Nirvana was a magnificent soft golden color that normally appeared only at sunset. An apt analogy, because if what she could see was any indication, the sun seemed to be setting on the current King of Soul Society.

Blasted earth, smoke, fire and ruin. That was all there was for as far as the eye could see. Not three feet from her there looked to be the body of an old man dressed in expensive robes. Relatively undamaged, he must have been one of the lucky ones who died of sheer fright. Along with him were a few men who wore the attire of captains, and several others who must have been courtiers of some kind. The rest spread out from there.

_No time to sight-see. We have to find him. _

Agreed.

So decided, the Lady of Shihoin dropped down into a crouch, head bowed while gripping the hilt of her zanpakutō.

I hope you haven't lost your touch, my friend.

And she yanked the slim short-sword free.

"Melt at a Touch, _Tezcat!"_

Her shikai was unveiled then, practically scorching her flesh with power, and up from that previous bowed position there arose a warrior goddess.

Golden tribal markings went up and down her naked body, fairly glowing against the rich brown skin. In one hand she held a _hacha_, an Incan battle-club. Over two feet long and composed of green jade, the weapon boasted half-moon circles of sharpened black obsidian that protruded in four straight lines up its intricately carved length, growing larger from haft to tip. In addition, atop her head there was a solid gold helm from which sprouted a profusion of long exotic bird feathers that framed her face in a lion's mane of shining dark green and black. The air around her seemed to shiver and waver like a mirage.

Without a moment of further hesitation, the unleashed spirit tore off, fairly flying across the plains at speeds that made her previous form's efforts seem lazy by comparison. In spite of the stench of charred flesh and decay in her nostrils, Yoruichi Shihoin breathed deep and laughed giddily. Alive, so alive! It's been one hundred years and I missed doing this terribly! Even if it's the last time, it still feels so unbelievably GOOD!

Ruined wrecks of men and women lay where they had fallen. Several of them almost looked as though they had been devoured, and she shuddered to wonder if that was the result of the _Espada _or their Hollowfied masters. The agile demon passed these corpses by without bothering to try and recognize anyone, uninterested in anything right now save for the mission with which she had been tasked.

It wasn't hard to locate the main activity of this enormous conflict. Unleashed reiatsu that could have torn apart all of Soul Society was warring straight ahead. Ban-kai, _Segunda Etapa, _Hollow masks, it was all coming out here, causing the ground to quake and the very heavens of this dimension to warp and fracture. Sōsuke wouldn't bother with asking for surrender until he had mowed down a sufficient quantity of the King's Guard. Assuming he would actually leave any of them alive should he come out on top. But from the feel of things, none of his men were dead yet, as opposed to a fair quantity of the Zero fighters. As Yoruichi sped towards it at top speed, the full extent of what they had been preparing for finally hit her right in the face. And it was truly shocking.

This really is going to be a fight to the death, isn't it? Neither side willing to give up until the last breath. They're going to murder each other.

_It doesn't matter anymore. Don't even think about it. How do you feel?_

Like there's about a quart of booze sloshing around in my stomach.

Up ahead, she could now make out the front line of the carnage. And then it all rushed up at her. Matchless warriors of the Seireitei, empowered with the strength of ages, all flinging themselves against six ultra-powerful demons. A war to determine the very destiny of all worlds.

Yoruichi dove into the fray.

* * *

As Ulquiorra turned towards him once more, Ichigo had the rather childish feeling that he was being singled out in this fight.

No Hollow mask meant he didn't stand a chance in a one-on-one brawl. The bonus of having two captains backing him up, though, was that they had a lot of tricks he didn't, which for a change would work in his favor. If all they really had to do was delay Ulquoirra long enough like Hitsugaya said, then whatever strategy they were trying to work out might just…

He blinked, and in that split-second the world changed a little. Specifically, Ulquiorra was right in front of him swinging his claws towards Ichigo's face.

Too damn fast.

"SHŌ!"

Something hit Kurosaki square in the jaw. While painful, it did what his sadly sluggish neck muscles had been failing to accomplish, which was move his head to one side just enough to dodge that blow. The fiend's talons passed within a centimeter of laying his skull open, and the sheer intensity of their closeness opened thin cuts across his cheek.

Before he could begin to will his legs to move him away to a safe distance, a pair of black wings scissored together with the clear intention of decapitating him.

"_Rikujōkōrō!"_

Six rods of yellow light blossomed around the Hollow's midsection. While supposedly capable of paralyzing a target, in this instance all they did was slow him down somewhat. However, Ichigo took advantage of this to spring away from Schiffer's reach.

By the expression on his enemy's face, Ulquiorra was not pleased.

"Bakudō #99: _Kin!_"

This time his mind actually registered who it was speaking. Hitsugaya and Kuchiki were both casting the same spell at once, something he had never seen before. But strangely enough, he actually knew this one. Had first-hand experience, as a matter of fact. So Ichigo was not surprised when bands of black cloth wound swiftly around the demon's arms and shoulders, anchoring solidly to the floor with a series of metal rectangles. This time their enemy actually paused, though whether from the effects of the spell or simply considering how best to break it was not clear.

Others were more aggressive in their methods. This was proven when Yumichika's pair of vampiric vines snaked out and wrapped around the _vasto lorde's_ throat. Immediately they sought to add their own paralytic agent to keeping him subdued, in addition to gobbling up his spiritual power.

I think we got him.

There was enough time for Ichigo to have this thought, before Ayasegawa screamed.

His vines had turned black, and there was an expression of horror on his face that none of them had ever seen. With a cry he reached up and tore the tendrils off his shoulders, an instant after which they crumbled into ash. Stumbling backwards he collapsed to his knees.

"His reiatsu!" he gasped, stuffing another handful of petals into his mouth. "It's not… natural! Can't be used for healing, it just… kills!"

"So you understand."

It was the _Espada _talking. Byakuya and Tōshirō both gave a start and immediately began the same incantation.

"_First Song: Halting Fabric!"_

Multiple bolts of cloth appeared around Ulquiorra and sped to cover him so fast the vampire became a mummy in an instant.

"_Second Song: Hundred Linked Bolts!"_

Next came metal lances piercing all up and down the wrapped figure's body. It reminded Ichigo of a magician's act back home.

"_Final Song: Great Seal of 10,000 Forbiddings!"_

An enormous metal block formed overhead and came smashing down like a ten-thousand ton meteor.

When it hit his head, the great cube snapped in half. Ichigo stared.

I get the feeling that wasn't supposed to happen.

Bands and blades burst then, converted into pure reiatsu and dissipating in an instant. Ulquiorra came free, and proceeded to do something that Ichigo had been dreading.

"_Lanza del Relámpago."_

Between those slim black claws, a beam of light emerged and broadened until it became a curved spear that fairly smoked with destructive force. Its wielder reached out and grasped the energy weapon seemingly without injury, though any other person would surely have lost a hand for even coming close.

Apparently the _Espada _was through playing nice. About to shout out a warning to his comrades, Ichigo found that this was not needed.

"_Hakuteiken."_

White wings and a halo swept out on his left as the Kuchiki prince dropped beside him. The sword in his hand burned to match their adversary's.

"_Tensō Jurin!"_

Hitsugaya came down at Ichigo's right shoulder. The temperature in the room had been falling steadily ever since the Tenth Squad captain's appearance. Now it took a nose dive, such that it felt like they had been dropped into Antarctica on a very cold day. An icy gale swept over them, causing frost to grow on any available surface. All people wielding swords were now on his side, with Ayasegawa still at Ulquiorra's back, presumably to keep him in a crossfire of sorts.

If the kid isn't careful, we're all going to be frozen solid.

_Trust him to know what he is doing. It's his power, after all._

Byakuya didn't look so hot when I came in here. Seems like Hitsugaya's floating timers are down to about half. And Yumichika's burning through those flower petals like they were cotton candy. I don't know how much longer they can keep this up. Do you have anything you'd like to share with me right now?

_Such as?_

You know, some incredible super-secret technique you've been saving for just such an occasion that will give me an awesome power boost and allow me to triumph a la _Dragon Ba…_

_No._

Just checking.

Ichigo blew out his breath and hoisted Tensa Zangetsu up before him, glowering over its tip at the dire entity looking to take his head.

I don't think Ulquiorra intends to start throwing those _Lanzas. _If he did, he would get caught up in the explosion as well. And he's smart enough to realize that Aizen might call on him for help with Zero Squad. He hasn't been operating at full power with us for just that reason. Knows he might need every scrap of it to help them conquer heaven.

_That is one advantage._

Then again, we can't go all-out either because Rukia and Orihime are still in the room. Ulquiorra might have kept us here for just that reason. There hasn't been time to get them out to a safe distance. If even one of us leaves, the others might wind up slaughtered.

_Then neither side has a clear edge._

Not necessarily. We do have one resource that he lacks.

_Which is?_

You guys. Our zanpakutō. Rukia tells me that you can communicate with one another to some extent.

_We can._

Then pass this along to Senbonzakura, Hyōrinmaru and… whatever Yumichika's real name is. Tell the first two to aim for the arm that's holding the _Lanza_. Try to cut it off. Ulquiorra is kind of lazy about losing limbs owing to his regenerative powers, we've both seen that.

_What are you planning with this tactic?_

If we can get him to drop his weapon, then while we keep him occupied, Yumichika can pick it up and use it on him. That _Lanza _is stronger than all of us combined. It even dealt a fatal hit to my full Hollow form, in a way. It just might be enough to destroy Ulquiorra himself.

_I thought we were supposed to simply detain him._

What do you know about me that makes you think I would settle for that?

_Point taken._

Let me know when…

_It is done._

Oh. Okay. Wait for my signal.

_They know._

The air in the room seethed with the fury of titanic souls in combat. It was like something hot and vicious was flowing through their beings, and rather reminded Ichigo of the time he faced Zaraki. So much power was colliding in this one space nothing else beyond the pale could be felt.

Ulquiorra stood motionless before them. No longer did his eyes have that disinterested look that so often marked him. Now they were wide open and trained fully on Ichigo. Apparently this fight was much more personal to him than anything else. I need an opening of some kind. Maybe I can do that thing Kenpachi did, and give the bastard one of those 'killing intent' illusions to distract him. Never tried that before but, hell, it's worth a shot!

Narrowing his eyes, he pictured that shaggy black head being sliced off and kicked around like a soccer ball. In his mind's eye, the bleached skin of the Hollow's stomach erupted and his guts came hanging out to snag on his clawed feet. Come on, come on! Work, dammit, let him feel it, let him freeze up for just a second!

A funny sound impinged on his perceptions, but he ignored it.

The room actually felt like it was starting to shake with the intensity of their emotions. Walls vibrating, dust falling from the ceiling. With two winged archangels at either hand, Ichigo Kurosaki squared off against the King of Hell standing across the way.

Eyeballs explode, hair catch fire, feel it, you bastard! Come on, feel it! FEEL IT!

Ulquiorra suddenly flinched, his head turning to one side.

THERE! GO!

Ichigo prepared to leap forward, just as the chamber wall on his right split open.

Then there was noise and confusion, and all heads turned as a great blazing yellow meteor tore into the room.

Heat and reiatsu, like they had suddenly been thrust into a soul furnace, or the heart of a star. The core of that conflagration sped across the way straight at Ulquiorra, and the Hollow turned just in time and brought up his shaft before him in defense.

White demon and yellow star collided with a sound like mountains playing rugby. The ball of colossal conflict flew straight across the room and took out the other wall, leaving a tremendous hole in its wake.

The remaining shinigami stared in absolute shock at what they had just witnessed. Ichigo especially gaped.

But Yumichika let out a whoop of glee.

"CAPTAIN!"

And Kurosaki finally realized what it was he had heard a moment past.

The sound of tingling bells.

* * *

"It's ready," Kūkaku pronounced grimly, and rose to her feet. "Ganju, you suited up?"

"Yes, Nee-sama!" Her little brother bounded forward, wearing the same full-body black suit she was sporting. Supposedly they were designed to keep them from passing out owing to the unbelievable auras they were about to be exposed to. But there was only one way to find out for sure.

Turning around, the head of the Shiba clan gestured to the similarly garbed figure standing behind her.

"You can handle it now, but be careful. The final couplet will be performed after the target has been reached. Make sure you're not touching it when that happens or else. Only those performing the spell will be safe."

"As I told my Lady Shihoin," the attendant spoke with dignity as he retrieved the item, "You can depend upon me."

"Good man," she returned with a grin. Lastly her hooded head turned to the man in shingami robes leaning against a wall.

"You ready to provide escort, Captain?"

Isshin Kurosaki came up with a smile, uncrossing his arms and swinging them vigorously. "I'll get you three through the front lines and into the Seireitei. You can count on it."

"Then let's not waste any more time!" With that, the one-armed fireworks queen spun about and strode off, flinging a white cloak across her shoulders. Her retinue followed behind her.

"It all depends on us!" Kūkaku crowed happily. "Let's go catch us a _vasto lorde!"_

_

* * *

_

No spells. No swordsmanship. Just hot-blooded battle.

Eyes blazing, Renji whipped Zabimaru around him, using it as a chainsaw to rend the earth apart on its bone sabers. In response, the limber _Espada_ leapt and scampered between the blades, moving with the graceful instinct of a cheetah on the loose. Drawing ever closer to him, Grimmjow laughed gleefully.

A flick of Abarai's wrist altered the course of his whirling whip. But almost as if he had been waiting on that instant between interval changes, Jeaguerjaques sped forward across the final distance separating them and landed right in front of him.

For a moment he just crouched there, grinning madly up at his target, and then the were-panther sprang for his throat.

Obeying his own instincts, Renji released his weapon and ducked below the charge. Grimmjow passed over him, and as he did, the Hollow-shinigami fusion reached up and caught his nemesis by the tail. His enhanced muscles clenched and he swung the glowing black predator around like a morningstar before releasing him to go flying through the air.

The _Sexta _tucked his arms and legs up against his body and spun rapidly. When he unfurled, he was upright and completely in control, landing a fifty yards off from where Renji stood.

War continued to rage all around them, but their respective allies could not risk coming too close to the combat being waged between these two juggernauts. And so they were left to settle their dispute in private.

Blood was dripping off his hands where the serrated tail had torn his flesh. Several other tears and wounds were weeping his life force from head to toe. Abarai snatched up the handle of his soul cutter, listening to his guardian spirit hiss angrily.

_Don't drop me in the dirt! We're supposed to be working together!_

Yeah? Well, this guy's only supposed to be the sixth strongest _Espada. _But if you ask me, he's packing more power than all the ones we met combined. Did Ichigo seriously beat this pussycat without losing any limbs?

_There's something strange about him, I'll grant you that. It felt like he got stronger a while back._

Or maybe he just stopped playing around.

_No. The Hollow side of me is reacting in a way I don't understand. Almost like it recognizes this change we've seen in him. As if they know one another._

Figure it out later. We're busy.

Hovering above him, Hihiō Zabimaru split its vertebrae into separate segments that flashed around the area. Lining up, they arranged themselves into raised concentric circles that formed a permeable dome of sorts. Bars of energy flared between the corresponding pieces to fashion scarlet flaming rings. At a gesture from its master, this entire conglomeration dropped down and surrounded Grimmjow. The creature flicked its ears and snarled eagerly.

"Anaconda Squeeze!" Abarai yelled.

The sword-blades flipped to point inwards, and it all contracted together in an instant, the huge dome becoming a smaller version with absolutely no gaps in between.

"_DESGARRON_!"

With this animal roar, blue blades sliced up through the bony cage to tower in the air. Then they swept down, dissecting the prison so that it all fell apart. The beams retracted, and Grimmjow emerged, bleeding from several different puncture wounds to his torso and limbs. These injuries apparently caused him no distress, as without hesitation the maddened general sprang across the smoking remains and loped towards his prey with a mighty roar.

Not one to turn down a challenge, Renji called over several of the smaller cylinders hanging around him. These slipped onto his arms and formed a sort of spiked vambraces. So attired, he then charged forward to meet the enemy on his own terms.

Grimmjow jumped up and spun in the air, delivering a kick to his opponent's head which Renji caught on his armored forearm. The cat's white hide scraped across brown bones. Jeaguerjaques then landed on all fours and swept his tail behind the other fighter's knees, sending him crashing down upon them.

When the Hollow went for his face again, Renji hauled off and punched him right in the nose.

The force of his charge carried Grimmjow past that blow, and unconcerned with his injury, he wrapped his arms around Renji and finally sank his fangs into the hybrid's shoulder. Blood flowed. Abarai screamed and grabbed him by the long blue mane, attempting to drag him off. Desperate, the lieutenant called on his inner Hollow to try and aid him. But the cannibal cat's jaws were like iron, they would not let go until they had met inside his opponent's body.

At least, that was how it seemed. But suddenly Grimmjow gave a snort and released his hold, being flung back in the process.

He landed somewhat less gracefully than before. Grasping his bleeding shoulder, Abarai stared as he willed his Hollow powers to staunch the flow of blood.

Across from him, the crazed killer spat and snarled furiously, spitting out gore and what might be chunks of flesh.

What the hell is he doing? With his nose broken, could he not breath after he got a mouthful of me?

_That's not it. I think something in your blood didn't agree with him. He seems to be having a reaction to it._

Any ideas what that something might be?

_Believe it or not, I think it's the Hollow in you._

Wouldn't think he'd have a problem with eating his own.

_Normally I would agree. But there's something specific about you that is causing him to lash out against it. I've felt it for a while, since we started fighting. I think it has something to do with that alien taint to his reiatsu. There's something mixed in with his body that doesn't belong. Whatever it is, your Hollow dislikes it._

So what's your conclusion, then? Do we let him eat me and have him die of food poisoning afterwards?

_Not a bad idea._

You're joking.

_Not entirely. Perhaps what we should do is force-feed him our reiatsu, and let the conflict inside take care of the rest._

At this point, Grimmjow appeared to have mastered himself again, and once more advanced on their position, his teeth stained red with blood and bile. Something black swarmed across the whites of his eyes. Renji stood once more to meet him, calling over the snake skull of Zabimaru to anchor to his right arm once more.

Keep working on that. It sounds promising. Meanwhile, I'll see about just kicking his ass the old-fashioned way!

* * *

It was raining in Karakura Town, though the sun was shining down and the heavy clouds had stopped a long ways off.

Bolts of blue light fell with the speed and volume of a cataclysmic thunderstorm, emanating from one house in particular. Any Hollows caught in this downpour were torn to shreds in a matter of seconds, masks crushed and bodies completely obliterated without even the hope of purification. Faced with this complete destruction of self, the miserable creatures sought protection under porches and trees, cowering there like children frightened by lightning.

Karin stood at the window, staring in fascination at this display of what could only be described as magic.

"It's actually kind of pretty," Keigo stated, fingering the lace dress of the skirt he had been forced to don awhile past.

A winged Hollow fell out of the sky and splattered against the pavement, dissolving away under the deluge.

"They don't seem to think so," the girl smirked, turning away from the sight before it was finished. She laced her fingers behind her head and strolled away, leaving the boy in drag to contemplate that spiritual massacre. Guess guys find that sort of thing more fascinating.

Professor Whitey had been at it for almost half an hour now, and to tell the truth, she was starting to get a little bored by it. Apparently nothing was getting through, no matter their size or temperament. It didn't matter if they were ogre-like creatures that looked like they belonged in a traditional fairy tale or even those that appeared almost human save for the pieces of mask they continued to wear. For some it took a little longer, but the end result was the same. Total obliteration. While she knew those brutes were likely coming to kill her and everyone here, Karin couldn't help but feel a little sorry for them. They didn't stand a chance.

Just who _is _that guy, anyway?

Passing by the stairs, her ears pricked up as she detected the sounds of the women conversing on the second level of her home.

"Kojima-san, how do you know so much about this stuff?"

"You mean those monsters? Well, the three of us followed Ichigo to this creepy store one evening and…"

"No, not that! I'm talking about women's clothes!"

"He's got more girlfriends than a pop star, that's why."

"Ryō-san, please! Don't talk about me like I'm some kind of womanizer! I cherish the ladies who shower me with affection."

"Even though I'm your teacher, I feel as if I never really knew you until today, Mizuiro-kun. It's certainly changed a few things in my mind!"

"Sensei, as much as I find you attractive, I don't think it would be a good idea to start a relationship considering our current positions."

"Oh, not that! I've got my sights set higher than a high schooler! What I meant was when things get back to normal I'm going to recommend you for counseling. You're a creep."

"WHAT?"

"Yes, he definitely is."

"Please don't cry, Mizuiro-kun! Um… I think you're still nice!"

Karin grimaced and crept quietly down the hall to the kitchen. It was exactly that kind of talk that had caused her to quit the company of the girls in search of something else to do. Asano had pleaded with her to take him with her, which she had reluctantly agreed to do. Being besieged like this didn't leave you with a lot of options in terms of who you hung out with. But after listening to his hysterical inanities concerning his social status, women and the price of cell phones nowadays, it was a relief to have slipped away so effortlessly. Any longer listening to that and she might have started pounding him like he was her Dad.

So what now? The television had nothing but static, and books weren't really her thing. Going outside to practice soccer was out too.

Well, if all else fails, you can always eat.

Heading towards the kitchen, Karin stumbled a little. Glancing down, she frowned. Was a floorboard loose or something? For a second it looked as though they might be swelling up, but she blinked and the impression vanished. With a disinterested shrug the pre-teen went into the pantry. Tugging open the refrigerator, she stood reflecting for a while.

"What do I wanna eat?" she grumbled, inspecting her choices. Eventually Karin settled on a bottle of juice. The boredom hadn't really given her much of an appetite. Anything more solid didn't sit well. Popping the top, she closed the door and sauntered back into the parlor.

There came some muffled thumping from behind the closed door where they had bound and gagged Don Kanonji to finally shut him up, but the girl paid it no mind. With Asano still in the den, she decided to head to the back of the house in search of a little privacy. Her room had been commandeered by the teenagers, and staying in Ichigo's bedroom didn't seem right. Same with her Dad's. So it was to the rear of their home that she went, past the treatment center and into the storage area that housed bandages and medicinal supplies for her father's clinic.

Moving to the back door, Karin took a swig of juice and brushed the curtain aside to peer out a window. The blue light was continuing to fall, seemingly absorbing into the earth without doing any damage. This attack, whatever it was, only seemed to affect spiritual entities. Both Michiru and that loony teacher had claimed to not be able to see it clearly, while Kunieda and the two boys were aware enough to get a better view.

It was good not to have to be afraid for herself. But all that really meant was that she now had all the more time to wonder just what might be happening to the rest of her family. Dad, Ichigo, Yuzu… heck, even that perv who hijacked her brother's body was missing. In the face of that, what…?

The floor seemed to jump a little beneath her, and Karin dropped her juice in surprise. With a startled exclamation she bent down and tried to snag it before too much could spill out.

As she did, a hole opened up right beside her.

The tiny brunette stared uncertainly for a few seconds. It looked to be about the size of a laundry basket, and the edges were gleaming and smoking slightly.

Before the situation could impinge itself upon her brain as dangerous, something burst from the pit.

Attempting to scream, Kurosaki felt a hand clap around her face, preventing any outcries. Her desperate struggles proved ineffective, and she was slammed roughly against the ground.

"Well, well," an unpleasant feminine voice hissed, "What have we here?"

Opening her eyes a crack, Karin looked up to find her attacker was a teenage girl of sorts. A closer examination revealed that this was nothing of the kind. While having a rather beautiful face with long black hair done up in pig-tails on either side of her head, the impression of humanity was dispelled by the fact that one of her eyes was an ebony socket surrounded by a fringe of bone. Dressed in a skin-tight white gymnast's uniform that revealed more than it covered up, this menacing figure hefted a small dagger which dripped a smoking scarlet viscous substance that matched the color of her single narrowed eye.

"Guess I was right," the beast-girl smirked. "Sneak attack is the way to go."

"Loly?" someone whispered up from the hole. "Are you all right?"

"No problem, Menoly," the one called Loly responded. "The coast is clear. I deactivated my _resurrección, _so it's safe to come up. By the feel of things, there's nobody in the house who could pose a threat to us either way."

Another slender teen came crawling up into the room, sporting an identical eyepatch that identified her as a Hollow but with short sandy-blonde hair. She glanced around, frowning anxiously.

"Let's do this and hurry back. I don't want that psycho up top to figure out we're here."

"Oh, relax," her partner smirked. "The freak can't sense us if we have on our _Sombras. _Good thing that bastard Tosen decided to have them modified so that Quincy couldn't detect us through it. I thought they were all dead anyway, wonder how he knew to even bother? At any rate, tunneling in here was a breeze after that."

Karin kicked frantically and tried to bite the hand holding her down. Loly seemed annoyed by her efforts more than anything, but the girl didn't stop trying. Maybe someone would hear the commotion and come running. Of course, if anybody did, they'd just get slaughtered. They were all humans in the house anyway. What chance did they have?

Well, considering the only other option was to lie here and die, even fighting in vain made a certain sense.

"Stop struggling, you little bitch!" The black-haired Hollow's eye burned with a dangerous glow. "I'd fry you with a _Cero, _but I'm still starving from that commotion back in _Hueco Mundo_, and you're the tastiest soul I can sense in this place! You're dead any way you look at it, so why not just admit it?"

"Just kill her already," Menoly muttered as she extricated herself further. "I'm going to start with the rest. And for death's sake, try to be quiet about it! We don't want her screaming and alerting the Quincy."

When Karin still continued to punch and flail, Loly seemed to run out of patience. She raised her dagger high, and the girl froze at the realization that she was about to be murdered.

"HSST! LOLY!"

The _arrancar's _head twisted in the direction of her comrade. Her captive's eyes did the same.

Menoly was crouched warily towards the front of the room. And standing in the doorway was a tall silhouette.

Whitey? Karin hardly dared to hope, but an instant later as that form came fully into the room, her heart sank.

It wasn't Ishida. Instead it was the goofy spirit wearing her brother's body, Not-Ichigo. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and jogging pants, that weirdly familiar form gazed down on them, looking completely calm.

Above her, Loly gave a gasp. "YOU!" An instant later she had dragged Karin upright. Wrapping an arm around the kid's throat, she held the dagger hovering close to her eye.

Not-Ichigo made no reaction to this at all. He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, studying them without the slightest hint of concern for any of this.

Menoly had backed up towards the hole. "Crap," she muttered. "Loly, it's the guy who was fighting Ulquiorra! We gotta get out of here!"

At this point the eldest Kurosaki sibling opened his mouth. His voice was soft and rather conversational in tone. "If you let her go, I won't kill you."

Karin was having trouble breathing, and she clawed at the arm constricting her airways. Through tear-filled eyes, she watched Not-Ichigo continue to just stand there. You stupid! Go run and tell Ishida, get him to come and kill these two! Why are you just hanging around? With her back pressed to the Hollow, she could feel it trembling. Did this thing somehow know her brother?

"LOLY, C'MON!"

But the undead woman didn't move.

"Wait a minute."

Loly inhaled deeply, and then smiled.

"Menoly, relax. This isn't the same guy. Can't you tell? It must be one of those 'gigai' things Aizen-sama mentioned. A copy made to look like the shinigami in the real world. This sucker ain't no death god!"

"But what _is_ he?" her cohort shot back. "His soul isn't human, I can tell that much! But I can't get a clear feel for it either. It's all over the place, not a Hollow, not shinigami… I can't explain it!"

"Doesn't matter what he is! If he was going to do anything, he would have done it by now! Kill him already, would you?"

Uncertainly, the ginger-haired ghost looked between the two. When Not-Ichigo made no further moves, she hesitantly edged a step forward.

"I won't kill you," the human teen spoke again, and Menoly froze. Karin also stopped her measly efforts to break free, and at the sound of his voice, Loly too seemed to catch her breath.

Not-Ichigo was staring at them. His posture was completely unthreatening, but there was a cast to his face. It was hard to explain; his eyes were wide, head tilted down slightly so the shadow of his brow fell over them. In this position there was something definitely disturbing about the way he looked.

"Not if you leave, and not if you stay," he continued. "No matter what you decide to do in the next few seconds, I promise not to kill you. That's not my way." Not-Ichigo reached up and brushed a hand absently through his hair. His gaze never left Loly's face. It looked like he was trying to stare her down in a way. And by the way she had gone quiet just now, it might be working. "You're right, you don't know what I am. No Hollow does. We were made in secret to destroy you. Soul Society wanted it that way. And when it looked like things might get messy, they decided to kill us before the truth got out. But I survived. And because of all that, I place a great deal of value on life. Even that of a Hollow like yourself. No matter what, I have promised to never kill another living thing, not if it's an ant beneath my foot, even if I die as a result of not doing so."

The seeming human took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. His lips turned downwards slightly, and there appeared to be a muscle twitching in his temple. All in all, it looked to Karin as though he was about to go completely nuts and start shrieking and tearing up the place. But instead he was speaking so softly they had to strain to hear him. And for some reason, none of them dared to make a sound, perhaps for fear of missing anything important that was about to be said.

"So I mean it when I say I won't kill you. You're going to live, the both of you. If you harm that girl in any way, you're going to live through _everything I do to you. _No matter how bad it hurts, and even if you beg me to kill you, I _will…not…do it!"_

Loly and Menoly's eyes had gone very big, and they could not seem to tear them away from that figure standing casually in the doorframe. He wasn't smiling. There was a strange sense that if he did, they would regret seeing that forever. Nor was he trying to sound threatening. But for all that, he was. He took his hands out of his pockets and remained there with his arms dangling limply by his sides.

"I've got a thing for beautiful girls. My imagination starts working whenever I just look at one, and I can't help the things that come into my head. Some of them are kind of funny, and others are kinky, and the rest would make my friends kill me if they only knew that I ever thought like that. If they realized some of the things that I've planned, they'd chop me up into little bits! So I never act on those thoughts. I keep them locked away, where no one but me can see them."

Of a sudden Not-Ichigo's foot lashed out and connected with the side of a steel cabinet taller than himself. The surface of the box caved in as though hit by a sledgehammer, and then the whole massive implement was flung off to the side like it weighed less than nothing. The cabinet exploded through a wall and flew into the guest room, smashing through the side of the house and landing in the bushes outside.

"But unless you leave now, I'm gonna show you all of them." His tone was sounding more ragged and suitably chilling to match his actions. "If you stay here, I'm going to do everything I've ever wanted with the both of you. Every position, every game, every painful bloody messed-up thing that crossed my mind even for a second will be done TO YOU! Whatever it takes, for as long as it takes. But I swear you won't die from it! Do you GET IT NOW? EVERY FUCKING THING I CAN THINK OF, **I'M GOING TO DO TO YOU!"**

He stopped talking.

Stunned, the two women stared at him. Karin found that she could breathe easily again, the arm around her throat having come loose somewhat. Loly's knife also seemed to have dropped down so that it was no longer in her field of vision. They looked like they were scared.

And I am too.

Then the big teenager took a step forward.

Immediately Karin was flung forward. She felt Not-Ichigo's arms come around her, and caught a faint glimpse of Menoly diving back into the hole, followed swiftly by Loly. After that there was the sound of scurrying, and then silence.

"You all right, Karin?"

Blinking, the girl looked up into the face of her brother. He seemed a little sad, and drained. Like that experience had taken a lot out of him. There was nothing scary about that face, but still, Karin realized for the first time that she had absolutely no idea who this person was.

"Who…?"

It wasn't her that said that. Turning their heads, they both saw the mini-skirt-wearing Keigo standing slack-jawed in the hole that Not-Ichigo had kicked through the wall.

"Who… are you?" the trembling teen gulped, staring with bulging eyes at the sight of his classmate holding on to the little girl.

"What the hell, Asano, did you drink your Dad's homemade rice wine again?" Not-Ichigo suddenly snapped. "Why did you put that big hole in my house?"

Keigo blinked and drew back. "Huh? What? I don't…"

"Seriously, man, when are you going to learn to appreciate your own strength?" Picking up Karin, the entity wearing her brother's body carried her through the plaster wall, giving Asano a pat on the shoulder at the same time. "By the way, why are you dressed up in my Mom's old clothes?"

"WHAT? THAT'S NOT…! I MEAN, THIS IS…!"

"What happened down here?" Misato Ochi proclaimed as she led the rest of the girls in a dead run into the family area, some of them clutching tennis rackets or hefty-looking books. Holding a weight-lifting bar like a staff, the teacher drew to a halt as she caught sight of the orange-haired student. "Ichigo-kun! When did you get back?"

"Just now," he supplied in that lazy drawl they all recognized. "And don't worry about the noise, Keigo just got a little carried away and started throwing things."

"Asano did that?" Kunieda Ryō sounded extremely skeptical as she eyed the matching craters in both walls.

"GABBA! DUH!" was Asano's only response.

"Asano-kun, how could you be so thoughtless?" Misato tsked, reaching forward and grabbing the kid by an ear. He yowled pitifully as she yanked him off. "We're going to have a polite discussion about respecting other peoples' property, because clearly your parents haven't bothered to do so with you."

There was a noise from outside, and Ishida Ryūken walked in through the hole, glancing around grimly. "What just happened?"

"Nothing, Ishida-dono." Michiru peeped at him timidly from behind the backs of her classmates. "Asano just went crazy for a little bit."

The Quincy cast a penetrating stare in the direction of Not-Ichigo, who took it easily enough and added, "He saw a really nasty couple of bugs and freaked out. Don't worry, they're gone now. Everything's all right."

"Hmm." Ryūken studied the boy's face as if searching for something undefined. He looked at Karin still held protectively in her elder's embrace, noting the pale tone to her skin and heightened breathing. In addition, he also saw that she did not appear to be resisting the familial embrace. And that decided it.

"Try to keep things quiet down here. I'm going back to work."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode out of the house once more. A few seconds later, the rain of destruction began to fall once again.

Not-Ichigo turned and passed through the ranks of his classmates without another word. Heading upstairs, he moved to the room shared by the girls. After entering he settled Karin on her bed and crouched before her.

"Did they hurt you?"

She shook her head no, still looking at him in a contemplative manner.

The doppelganger stood up. "You want me to get you something from the fridge? Some juice, maybe?"

A slow nod in response.

"You like guava juice, right? I think we've got some left. Wait here and I'll go check."

He turned to exit the room.

"Hey."

The teenager paused.

"Who are you?" his landlord's sister asked softly.

Without turning around, he answered.

"Kaizō Konpakku. But you can call me 'Kon'. Everybody does."

He started to leave then.

"Thank you, Kon."

"You're welcome." A brief stop with his hand on the doorway, and Kon looked back with a smile. "You're a strong girl, Karin Kurosaki. When your brother gets back I'll be sure to tell him you never cried once."

He left her then, and Ichigo's friends came yammering back into her room all afire with questions. Karin had to admit she didn't mind the company.

_To be continued…_


	32. War in Heaven: The Joy of Battle

Flying overhead, Tobiume let out a roar, and a column of dire flames twice the width of its body erupted from the open eye. The zanpakutō then zig-zagged across the battlefield, bearing down on Nanao and leaving scorched earth in its wake.

In response, the lieutenant flash-stepped around the room, daring the hunter to keep up with her. At the same time she cried out a verse.

"Disintegrate, you black dog of Rondanini! Look upon yourself with horror and then claw out your own throat! Bakudō #9: Geki!"

Following in hot pursuit of her, the zanpakutō suddenly froze in one place, outlined in a red glow. A few yards away, standing behind the protection of her own conjured Danku spell, Momo bent double and howled.

"_GRAAAH! Momo, do something!" _she screamed.

Nanao watched this with interest. Unbelievable. Their minds are bound up together now. I can't tell one of them apart.

_They're getting better at fighting like this! You have to try and take at least one of them out quickly or you'll be overwhelmed!_

Agreed.

"Hadō 54: Haien," she breathed. Drawing back her hand as the purple glow of Abolishing Flames came around it, Nanao took aim at the immobilized soul cutter.

"_Quintet of 1-kan Iron Pillars!"_ Momo suddenly called out, and five rods of iron materialized over Nanao to drop straight down upon her.

"Tsuriboshi!" came the lieutenant's instant response, her own attack going well wide of its target as a result. It couldn't be helped, as a solid tarp of spirit particles formed right above her, its ends anchored to the walls of the room. Originally designed to catch a falling mortal body, this spell served now to act like a net, trapping the incoming attack. _Suspending Star _stretched downwards under the imposing weight of the _Quintet, _but still held. Unfortunately, the temporary distraction had enabled Tobiume to break free of her admittedly low-level binding, and the murderous device spun over to hover near its mistress once more.

"_You…PLAGIARIST!" _Hinamori-Tobiume lifted a finger and pointed it at Nanao. _"I'm the one who published a report on the 37th Bakudō's uses in capturing incoming solid-mass spells! A simpleton like you would NEVER have thought to use it that way!" _

"If you didn't want it to be turned against you, then you never should have sought praise by publishing it," Ise shot back with a smirk as both of their kidō-traps dissolved away together.

_Nanao, what's wrong with you? Don't taunt them like that, they're only gonna get madder!_

Good. Control of oneself is paramount to kidō. If I can disrupt their focus, then they've lost the greater part of their strength. And much as I hate to admit it, Hinamori is a very potent spell-caster.

Her multiple-personality nemesis smiled crookedly from safely behind her barrier, which had so far resisted any attacks Nanao had sent its way. _"How long do you think you can keep this up, Bookworm? Sooner or later you'll run out of tricks, and then we'll have you! Why don't you at least perform your shikai? I've never seen it in action, and it might be good for a laugh when I tell Aizen-sama the story of how you died!"_

"You haven't earned the right to see my zanpakutō in action, Hinamori Momo. But I guarantee you will be telling no tales after this regardless!" And with that she dropped to the ground and swiftly drew a circle with her finger. _"_Heart of the south, eye of the north, finger of the west, foot of the east, arrive with the wind and depart with the rain!"

"_A tracking spell?"_ Hinamori-Tobiume sneered._ "What, are you trying to hunt down some help? Nobody's coming to your rescue, witch!"_

"Bakudō 58: _Summon of the Tracking Sparrows!"_ Nanao shouted, then, in the same breath, "Tsuzuri Raiden!"

The conductive lightning spell poured from her fingers and shot into the glowing dish that had resulted from her previous incantation. Behind the safety of Splitting Void, Momo suddenly arched upwards with a scream as lightning coursed over her body.

_Nanao! You bypassed Danku! _

You're surprised? I published my findings on this research back at the academy. Bakudō 58 can locate anyone, no matter their position to you. It's an omni-directional spell. And Danku works only in one direction. By combining the bakudō with a spell like Bound Lightning, which is designed to pass through some sort of medium to reach its target, you can effectively create a spell that seeks out and attacks someone without being visible to the naked eye. Much harder to prepare yourself for it.

_Oops. I guess I must've missed that._

More like you were fantasizing about our fencing instructor from third period.

_You want to see his picture? I've still got it somewhere around here!_

No, thank you, now is not the time for…

_"BLACK_…"

As soon as she heard Momo shout the name, Nanao knew what to do.

"…_COFFIN!"_

Her instincts in terms of magic were well-polished, and when faced with this wholly lethal attack, she immediately sprang away from the spot on which she had been standing. Defensive spells had no effect upon the 90th Hadō, your only recourse was to remove yourself from the target zone.

And she thought this was exactly what she had done. But looking around, something incredible became clear. The death-trap hadn't formed around her location.

The coal-black box instead covered Hinamori-Tobiume.

Before her disbelieving eyes, midnight knives appeared from every direction around that impenetrable blockade and sank into it with lethal force. Aghast, Nanao stood frozen at the prospect.

_Holy crow! Did Momo just commit suicide?_

Can't be! Why would they…?

Suddenly her senses realized what was wrong, but by this point it was already too late.

"Byakurai!"

Pain tore through her stomach, and Ise screamed. She had just enough time to catch the thin white beam emerging from the confines of the box to pierce her side, and then…

"Raikōhō!_"_

A blast of lightning and thunder emerged from _Black Coffin_ and streaked towards where she stood. Everything around her exploded.

Smoke rose up in a pillar from the site of that devastation, and through the sound of the scattering rubble, there came laughter. Further off, the midnight rectangle vanished to reveal Momo Hinamori-Tobiume standing unharmed.

"_Wasn't that a nice bit of acting on my part?" _she called merrily. _"Not every kidō spell needs to be shouted out loud, you know. If I whisper while you're patting yourself on the back for that stupid stunt, then you'll never hear me incanting Kagami Togire! I yelled out 'Black Coffin' afterwards, but there was no force behind it, you just assumed the worst. What you saw was an illusion! And since you still held some sentiment towards me, you froze up just long enough for me to get a bead on you from inside the Broken Mirror facsimile." _

The smoke began to clear.

"_Are you still alive over there, Nanao-fukutaichou? Did you lose your glasses or something? Want me to help you find them?"_

And then the last remaining whiff of dust was gone, revealing Nanao down on one knee. Her hair, normally caught up in a clasp, now fell around her shoulders. The ornament that she used to pin her sable locks in place was clenched in her hand, and from it there emerged a round wall of light four feet in diameter.

The shield winked out, and rising, she cast the now useless accoutrement away.

"_A defensive spell hidden in a doohickey, huh? Not bad, Glasses. A girl of our rank can't be too much at ease when walking around the Seireitei, after all. Never know when some misogynistic male with his eye on an advancement might take it into his head to attack you when your back was turned. We've had to kill a few of those ourselves!"_

The sneer on Momo's face couldn't be called anything but ugly. It made the pretty pixie look more like a breed of imp. Blood trickled between Ise's fingers from the wound in her stomach, and her face was hard with anger and pain.

"_You had enough time to heal that little scratch I gave you? Well, if not, too bad. Because that's only the beginning! You don't have a chance at victory! Aizen-sama's gone to make himself a King, and when he comes back it'll be to cast down the rest of the filth that dared to keep his ambitions caged. Your world is OVER!"_

Nanao's eyes narrowed viciously. "You disgust me, Hinamori Momo."

"_Ooooo!" _that mocking figure cooed. _"The vice-president of the Shinigami Women's Association is getting steamed! Oh, Nanao-fukushachou, please don't take off your glasses and make a scary face at me! I don't think my poor little heart could bear it!"_

The wounded warrior bit her lip in anger.

_That does it. She asked for this. Let her have it!_

No. I don't need to.

_Nanao, it's two against one! If this keeps up they're going to kill you! Use me already!_

It's still too early. Don't tempt me into doing something I might regret.

_Do you think she's going to regret it after she murders you? I don't think so!_

It is not for her sake that I hold back. It is for Captain Hitsugaya. And Captain Kyōraku.

_What?_

In spite of what she has become, Momo is still a person who means a great deal to Tōshirō. And Shunsui despised the idea of harm befalling a woman, regardless of their worth or station in life. Were I to do as you suggest, it would cause him no end of pain.

_You're looking out for other people's hearts, while inside we haven't stopped crying over what happened to Shunsui-taichou. Nanao, you HATE this traitor, admit it! These creeps didn't care a lick about our pain, did they? It's time for some payback!_

Not yet, Ureshii Onnanoko. Please, not yet.

_All right. We'll wait. But I'm not going to let you die, understand? If it comes down to her or you, there's no choice._

As you say.

_And those two captains had better give us some hot full-on tongue kisses to show their gratitude when this is over!_

Duly noted. But until then…

And the willowy enchantress came upright poised for battle.

I will do nothing to disgrace the badge upon my arm as she has.

_Go get 'em, Dragon-lady!_

She obeyed, and once more magical war was waged in the Seireitei.

* * *

Locked in mortal combat with a small pack of ravenous skeleton-rats, two captains of Zero Squad were momentarily taken aback when a golden blur moved by them. Even more surprising was the sudden collapse of several of the fleshless vermin, their backs broken, legs shattered. But there was no time to consider this unexpected aid, as more of the enemy came swarming over the rise in search of prey.

Yoruichi sped through the battlefield, then halted atop a cleared space, all her senses scanning the melee. In spite of their vast numerical superiority, the King's forces seemed to be having the worst of this fight. With every passing minute it seemed another fighter went down, while as far as she could tell, none of the _vasto lorde _had been dealt with.

They were easy to spot. The floating Whirlpool was still drawing in everything around it. The only safe zone was an area extending a certain diameter around the edge of the hungry circle, which was apparently beyond the scope of either half's vortex. While some had noticed this and attempted to use it to attack from the creature's blind spot, this had so far proven futile. Anyone who drew close to it risked being snatched up by the multiplicity of grasping arms and thrown into its mouth. The same was true for any spiritual attacks sent its way. But in spite of being seemingly impervious to any injury, the beast was limited in its movements, probably owing to its size. It was just too large to move anywhere quickly. This gave the royal forces the means to stay out of its reach theoretically.

Unfortunately, their own movements were hampered by the presence of the Mouse King's army, which was apparently limitless. A blanket of rats that multiplied with every one they cut down had spread out to cover the landscape. And far off in the direction of a range of mountains, the Wolf could faintly be seen bounding from one side of the horizon to another, with captains chasing after it like tiny white-coated fleas.

While somewhat interested in the possible outcome of this battle, Yoruichi had a more personal interest to attend to.

Looking off to the east, she could make out Tosen's black dome of sensory deprivation. It disappeared and reappeared frequently, indicating that the rebel captain could not simply move the black circus tent with him but was required to dismantle it whenever he wished to relocate to a different part of the battle. This had been the first indication of where her true target might lie. The loyal servant would not stray far from his master, just in case anything unforeseen might happen. And after several minutes of zipping through this warzone, Yoruichi had finally found what she wanted.

Close to where Tosen fought there was a sense of something unspeakably powerful. While the mayhem had prevented her from focusing in on anything clearly using only spiritual perceptions, the closer she drew to it, the more potent was its presence. It was almost like a gravitational force so immense it was drawing in everything around it. This could only mean one thing. Yoruichi had at last located the leaders of the rebellion.

The final confirmation came when she saw the monster rearing skyward and screaming out loud in numerous voices.

Look at that. Will you just _look_ at it? It's unbelievable.

She really did it after all.

For the first time in her life, Yoruichi Shihoin bore witness to something that had not been seen in over twelve generations of her illustrious family.

The ban-kai of Retsu Unohana. Minazuzenshou, whose name meant _Entirely Destroy the Flesh._

Rising over a hundred feet in the air, a dragon seemingly composed of red shifting smoke breathed its wrath at the feeble knights clamoring at its feet. The beast boasted seven heads on long sinuous necks that waved around independently of one another, with black eyes and protruding snouts that dripped a host of lethal hues. As Yoruichi watched, one head let loose a plume of white flame that incinerated any spiritual matter it touched. Close to this one came its twin whose breath was so cold it turned anything in its reach completely solid. Another spewed out a cloud of smoke that at first seemed to do nothing, until she saw several men staggering forth with their bodies rotting away from illness. A fourth emitted cloudy white vapor that invaded an opponent's lungs and choked them to death within seconds, while the next disgorged innumerable razor-sharp stilettos that flayed the meat off any soul unlucky enough to be caught in its path. The sixth emitted a ray whose effects were instantaneous and chilling, leaving as it did any victim in the throes of fatal starvation, their once-healthy bodies shrunken and wasted away to stick-like vestiges of men and women.

The final head did nothing but weep quietly, like a mother mourning its lost young.

This was violent death, in all its forms. It was a rampant force that had been deemed too dangerous to casually unleash upon the enemies of Seireitei for the sheer threat it represented to all life in its vicinity. Only in truly exceptional conditions was Unohana supposedly ever given permission to exercise her ultimate power, and then only as a last resort. Even Yamamoto's ban-kai, while admittedly more powerful, was not so great a danger. Conceivably, with Minazuzenshou alone, it would be possible to kill off all life on the planet Earth, no matter its shape or size. This was the most frightening monster of all, whose only purpose was to kill.

And it had finally been given free reign to do so.

Legs and wings there were too, and Minazuzenshou roamed freely across the battlefield, trampling the dead and dying beneath its talons or taking to the air in pursuit of its next victims. Composed of an insubstantial material, it neglected to dodge any attacks owing to their tendency to pass right through it. This impermeability did nothing to limit the zanpakutō's destructive effect on Squad Zero. Still, to her careful eye, it quickly became apparent to Yoruichi that this particular menace had a territory it was protecting. And within the bounds of that area she could now distinguish what must be Aizen in his Hollow form and Unohana herself.

All that remained was to reach that spot.

_That Tiamat isn't the only problem. Look there._

I see him, Tezcat.

Between her and the aspiring king and queen was another piece of royalty. The Mouse King, Barragan Luisenbarn, was deploying his army directly in her path, and while the creatures tended to spread out and become less numerous the farther off they went, in this central location they were proving to be thick as hairs on a dog's coat. It would be exceedingly difficult to make it through that morass unhindered. Difficult, but not impossible.

The end was in sight. Gripping her battle-axe, Yoruichi sped straight for her target.

Her bare feet skipped over any available surface, being careful not to come into contact with the rats whether they be alive or dead. As she went, though, progress started to become more difficult. In spite of her unmatched speed, there would soon be no room to maneuver. But there was more to being a shinigami than black robes and swords, after all.

"Bakudō #18: Stair of Starlight."

Immediately a transparent surface visible only to its caster spread out like a red carpet before her. Rising about three feet off the ground, this fragile construct still supported her weight when she leapt atop it, allowing her to run well over the top of the ocean of plague below her feet.

She was making good time now, and so far no one had noticed her. The captains continued to fight for their lives and honor, while their enemies struggled for their own ends. From the corner of her eye, the Goddess of Flash paid attention to anything that might impede her travels. She gave special concern to the black-robed demon-general who was directing this host. They were drawing abreast of his position where he was wading through his ranks, fighting off attacks from captains whose powers enabled them to take to the air. Barragan was smoking, its robes seemingly on fire in some places, indicating that it was possible to damage these things to some extent. Still, all six arms swung without stop, and the heads chattered and screeched in mindless glee. Earthbound, this thing still wielded incredible power to destroy.

Keep focused. Almost there. Just have to stay focused!

Following her path, Yoruichi drew close to Luisenbarn's position without him giving any notice to her.

I just need to get by him. He'll never be able to catch me then, assuming he even notices me.

But she was wrong. He had seen her.

And he was not slow.

In an instant the tyrant ruler's body collapsed into a swarm of rats that quickly fell into the rest of his brood. The captains fighting him drew away in perplexity, looking all around them for some explanation or sign of foul play.

But it was Yoruichi who learned the meaning behind this tactic, as Barragan reformed in front of her, rising up to one side of her path.

Scimitars swung, and the Stair shattered, sending her soaring into the air.

"Gochūtekkan!" she cried in midair. "Tsuriboshi!"

Five iron pillars fell to earth, and between them a solid net anchored to their points appeared. Landing on this, Yoruichi bounced and spun to see the monster bearing down on her position.

"**Where do you go, little fleet-foot?" **the crown-prince of pestilence purred as he swung his swords. The top head that wore a crown spoke, while the rest simply gabbled in approval of his voice. **"We smelled the magic you cast to guide you. There is no need to race so hard to find death. It is right before you!"**

_We don't have time for this. _

No kidding.

"**Go on!" **Barragan laughed. **"Take a step off your perch! We will make it your last!"**

He was coming closer. No one seemed to be rushing to her rescue, whether from mere oversight or maliciousness. But Shihoin had no intention of depending on the kindness of strangers to save her. This nuisance needed to be dealt with and quick. Bouncing up and down on her trampoline, she judged the distance between them.

_Only five seconds, now._

Got it.

Then to the king's surprise, she bunched her legs beneath her and launched herself at him.

Yoruichi raised her club as she soared through the air, aiming for the very heights of her enemy's reach.

Luisenbarn brought up his six blades contemptuously, seeing his prey engaging in what he recognized to be a suicide ploy. Her speed was not sufficient to stun him, and the trajectory was easily determined. Utterly pathetic.

When she came within reach, half a dozen steel blades rushed screaming to slice her to pieces his familiars would then feast upon.

_Melt._

The outline of her body shimmered, and all six swords passed right through Yoruichi without encountering any resistance. Like she was nothing more than heat haze, a mirage in the desert.

The collective heads let out a screech of surprise, and in that instant the Lady of Shihoin had closed the gap between her and Barragan.

She swung with all her might, and the jade club crashed directly into the top rat skull with shocking force. Bone shattered, the thing's jaw cracked violently, and that corrupting behemoth fell backwards, collapsing with an ear-splitting howl of pain and rage.

As it did, the golden crown flew off its head and landed far away.

The moment this happened, no more rats flowed from his body. His tide of followers halted completely. The ones already released remained active, but no new ones came out to join them. Screaming in wordless outrage, the _Maus Konig _levered himself upright, his broken mouth twisted at a slight angle that apparently inhibited speech. Looking wildly around, he caught sight of Yoruichi running away on a freshly-conjured stretch of invisible road. Briefly he considered taking off in pursuit again. But then he noticed where she was headed. Straight towards where Aizen and his woman were fighting. A thought occurred to Barragan then: if she could do this to me, perhaps she can also cause injury to Aizen himself? It was certainly worth testing, at any rate.

He could always kill her afterwards. And more importantly, there was the matter of his army's power source.

Noticing where the golden symbol of his rule lay, Luisenbarn dissolved once more and rose up to grip it in one hand.

As he brought it towards his bare scalp, Kirio Hikifune of the King's Guard, having noticed this tableau play out along with its results, streaked down on the back of her ban-kai Garuda the Bird King and split that magic crown in half with one blow of her spear.

The pieces fell away in smoldering ruin, and Barragan screamed anew, vainly swiping at the retreating form of the former captain of Squad Twelve.

Yoruichi continued on her way without noticing any of this.

* * *

The now keen-edged zanpakutō Honnou clashed against Ulquiorra's _Lanza del Relámpago_, and much to the _Espada's _disbelief, the sword did not break, something he had believed to be virtually…

Impossible.

As he stabbed and was blocked anew, Schiffer admitted he was puzzled by this turn of events. Aizen-sama had calculated that once the initial stage of his plan was complete, there would be no more than three opponents of captain class available to oppose them. Four was considered unlikely, and five virtually beyond the pale of comprehension. Almost impossible, Aizen-sama had stated.

Impossible.

The laughing maniac in front of him was another source of irrationality. This was apparently Zaraki Kenpachi, who was supposedly limited in the expression of his spiritual strength. While perhaps the strongest fighter in the ranks of the Gotei 13, he was not able to deploy anything close to his full power owing to an acrimonious relationship with his soul cutter that deteriorated his abilities to an astonishing degree. In spite of this, he had the reputation for being almost impossible to kill. Ulquiorra had considered this to be an absurd statement.

But now that he was fighting the man, trading blows and being forced to block those in return owing to the massive force lurking behind every one, he found himself wondering if he actually knew what that word meant.

Impossible. To kill. _Impossible_ to kill.

That is _not_ possible. It is not within the realms of possibility. I can kill anyone. That is who I am. What I am. I kill any who oppose my master's will.

Why do these shinigami, these…death gods…

Why will they NOT DIE?

* * *

Down a tunnel in the wall you could have parked a jumbo jet in with room to spare, the battle between two monsters was emitting enough residual spiritual power to make it difficult for any of the observers to even stand so much was the room shaking.

"Zaraki?" Ichigo mumbled in disbelief. "What the…? How did he get so _strong?"_

"Obviously," a scratchy, high-pitched voice came from behind him, "The oaf has learned how to communicate with his zanpakutō."

Spinning around, the shinigami substitute reeled when he saw who was standing there.

"RUKIA?"

She crossed her arms and scowled. "What is it with you humans and denying me my proper honorific?"

Kurosaki's head jerked around, over to where he remembered her being. To add to his discomfort, Rukia and Orihime were both still sprawled out on the floor. They hadn't moved an inch. He came back around, mind awhirl with confusion. At the sight of Nemu Kurotsuchi and his comrade Uryū flanking the tiny look-alike, however, recognition finally dawned.

Byakuya strode up to them, a whirlwind of blades flowing around him. "Captain Kurotsuchi. What are you doing here?"

"To lend you my aid, of course! What else?" Mayuri snapped back.

"How can we be sure he's really on our side?" Hitsugaya intoned grimly, keeping his sword up and ready for action. "Enough people have turned traitor today."

"He's no traitor," Ishida spoke up, leaning on Nemu for support. Ichigo did not fail to notice how wretched he looked right now. "They tried to take him down like all the rest, but it didn't work out. Believe me, we're here to help you!"

"Did Yoruichi-sama send you?" Yumichika called as he came up, still keeping his attention on the struggle taking place far off in the distance.

"Questions, questions! Do you think we have all the time in the world here?" Mayuri in Rukia's body bounced up and down in a very cross manner. "Zaraki can't keep that creature occupied forever no matter how much of his soul he uses! You must help us complete the sequence so that we might destroy the _vasto lorde _while it's still distracted!"

At this point, Uryū gasped and began to collapse. Immediately Ichigo rushed forward and gripped his arm to steady him. As he did, his eye fell on the star student's bowed neck.

"HOLY HELL, ISHIDA!"

* * *

The Quincy was not surprised by his loutish associate's reaction. He knew that the sight of the worm creature fastened to his cervical vertebrae and running down his spine must be a particularly grisly one. He, at least, was spared from seeing how grotesque it looked. Unfortunately, that was the only kindness afforded him in this situation.

What Nemu had failed to mention, possibly because she did not know it herself, was that the initial pain of being joined to the Mimizu did not diminish in the slightest in the period afterwards. It still felt as though someone had stuck a knife into his neck and was slowly grinding it around, while needles continued to plunge into and down his backbone. A part of him was convinced that Mayuri's sadism had compelled him to make the thing this way intentionally. But in truth, the physical torture was not the worst part of it.

It was the presence that had taken up residence at the back of his mind.

_[How are you doing there, Quincy?]_

Leaning on Nemu for support once more, the human sorcerer gritted his teeth at that smug voice. Always now there was a feeling that someone was hanging just over his shoulder, watching everything he did. The living organism hooked into his nervous system allowed Mayuri to communicate telepathically with him. While he watched the demented scientist hastily explain the procedure to Kurosaki and the captains, Uryū didn't fail to notice the sly look that beautiful fiend's face cast in his direction.

_[Don't go passing out on me, cockroach! You haven't even begun to feel pain!]_

Apparently Mayuri was capable of dividing his attention in several directions without any effort. But while he could hear the reprobate's voice quite clearly, his own thoughts didn't seem audible to his tormentor. Which was something of a relief, although he would have appreciated the opportunity to curse Kurotsuchi in a way he would never lower himself to doing out loud.

The lieutenant continued to hold him upright, something she seemed able and willing to do for as long as necessary. A good thing too, because his legs didn't feel like they could bear his weight. Under normal circumstances the ceaseless hurt, combined with the violation of his being, might have been enough to overwhelm even a Quincy's iron sense of will and spirit.

But the first thing he had noticed when they came into this chamber was Orihime.

Whether injured or simply unconscious he could not tell, but she was still alive. He hadn't been too late. There was yet a chance that she might be saved. And though it might be small of me to think it, I would really like to be the one who keeps her safe.

Even if I'm not alive afterwards to appreciate it. Which is looking more likely by the minute.

_[It's time! String your bow, Quincy!]_

Another side effect of the parasite being attached to him was that it had immediately transferred information on how to use it into his brain. That made things a whole lot easier. So Uryū knew exactly what was being called for here.

Raising his arm, he held it out as though gripping a longbow horizontally. Resolutely he then formed the image of a 'T' in his mind. On the floor before him, that same symbol appeared in glowing white form. It then grew out, broadening and expanding 'til it was nearly twenty feet long.

"Ready!" he gasped aloud, tears gathering in his eyes.

"All captains, assemble on the arms! Drive your zanpakutō into it and feed your power through completely!"

At the same time, a cajoling whisper floated through the archer's brain.

_[Now, boy, it's time for you show your worth]_

Sweet heaven, I pray that this works.

"STOP!"

Ishida blinked past the obstruction in his vision, trying to determine just what was going wrong.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING, HUMAN?"

"Kiss my ass, body-snatcher! I'm going to help Zaraki!"

Oh, hell. It figures.

Kurosaki, must you always hog the limelight?

* * *

"Wait a second!" Ichigo spluttered. "You intend to shoot him _through _Zaraki?"

"Any forewarning on our part could alert the Hollow as well." Mayuri crossed her arms and gave him a look that clearly said he was an idiot. It was so incredibly familiar to the one he usually got from the real Rukia that it made his flesh crawl. "And the biggest weakness of this technique is that it's a one-shot offensive. If we miss, there won't be a second chance. It was hard enough finding an opportunity where he remains in one place for more than a second! We can't afford to waste it!"

"But what if…!"

"SILENCE!" She swept out a dismissive arm. "Take up your position, boy! We are fortunate that we have four individuals of such high power level to provide the ammunition. But even with all of you together amplified through _Toutoi Mimizu, _it might not prove enough! All the same, this is our best chance at victory. That creature must be destroyed before we carry the fight to Aizen! Now do as I command!"

Ichigo looked over to the luminescent line she was pointing at, where Byakuya and Tōshirō had already taken up their positions.

What do you think?

_Do you even have to ask?_

Right.

And with that, he turned and sped down the massive burrow.

"STOP! WHERE ARE YOU GOING, HUMAN?"

"Kiss my ass, body-snatcher!" he yelled over his shoulder. "I'm going to help Zaraki!"

_Any worries?_

None at all. And anyway, Hitsugaya said that Yoruichi already had a plan for dealing with Ulquiorra. I trust her a lot more than I do Captain Clown. No more doubts! Let's _do it!_

_As my master wishes. To victory!_

* * *

Yumichika had to admit, it was rather adorable seeing that faux Rukia fuming indignantly like that. Puts me in mind of the real thing.

Unfortunately, he had to agree with the human. This tactic was so grotesque it was painful to think about it. You did not shoot your allies in the back, and certainly not your captain.

_Of all the nerve! If he wasn't wearing Kuchiki-chan's face, I'd tell you to punch him._

Yes. But I have a better idea.

"Gentlemen!" the handsome pugilist bowed to his counterparts. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll follow Master Kurosaki's example. My captain is in danger, and I am needed."

So saying, he took a last glance in the direction of the two beautiful women huddled together under a dome of magic.

Ah, what a magnificent sight!

Then Ayasegawa tore off in pursuit of battle, feeling his pulse pound at the prospect.

* * *

"Why didn't you idiots stop them?" Mayuri spluttered.

Hitsugaya and Kuchiki exchanged a glance. The lord then turned a cold glare on the stolen face of his sister. "You played your hand, magician, and this is all you get. The fault is no one's but your own. Now, unless your resolve is so weak as to let mere abandonment stop you, I suggest we begin."

With that, he drove Senbonzakura into the white symbol and flooded it with his power. The Tenth squad captain proceeded to do the same. All their attention focused on feeding the Quincy everything they had to give.

_Even if they may die as a result?_

They are our allies. It is their decision to continue to fight, and it is mine to try another path. No matter the choices we make, we must be prepared to live with the consequences. Death is no substitute for honor. I have learned that much, Senbonzakura.

_And learned it well, my lord._

* * *

An opening appeared, and Ulquiorra lashed out with his free hand, raking his claws across the brute's face. Still, the fighter did not slow down or so much as blink.

He brought his _Lanza _around in a powerful blow, knocking the shinigami's sword aside for a moment, and in that time, he kicked straight up and let the talon on his heel slice him open from hip to shoulder.

That mad grin never flickered. And the Kenpachi kept on fighting as though nothing had happened.

Another one. Another lunatic without a brain, fighting with me past the point when it should be clear that any further conflict was pointless. Did these damn shinigami not understand what it meant to be_ outmatched?_

A flurry of overhand blows came down upon him, and though he blocked them all, Ulquiorra found himself actually taking a step backwards. Impossible. My strength cannot be daunted, even for a moment, by a mere death god.

And to prove this, when that razor-sharp edge fell once more, he caught it not on his blade, but on the side of one of his horns.

His _hierro _split, and the blade cut deep into the shaft. But Ulquiorra didn't notice, as he was already bringing his energy weapon around in a backhand arc to cut this abomination in half.

Three things happened then.

First, the spiky-haired ogre bore down and head-butted him full in the face. The pain was real but negligible, and did nothing to prevent his own attack.

Second, a black katana intercepted his _Lanza_, holding it back from the other man's body.

Third, he felt a tickling at the base of his neck, around the same time someone kicked him in the back of the knee.

He saw them. The human, Kurosaki. The turncoat, Yumichika. And the ape, Zaraki. Then they all started attacking him at once.

The tickling started along his ribs as well, but he ignored it.

* * *

The _arrancar _Enfain Tezima dropped down on top of a burning inn in the 28th district of Northern Rukongai. A platoon of _Menos Grande _followed in her wake, their skyscraper forms crushing buildings underfoot as they wailed their eerie calls. The sound of a pitched battle drew her in the right direction. Spying her contacts crouched outside a ring of leveled houses, she moved swiftly to join them, her _Sonido_ leaving a faint sonic boom in passing.

"I brought them," she called out, and saw the other _arrancar _start fearfully. What, were they expecting Grimmjow himself to answer their distress call? Not likely. "What's in this district that's holding up our assault?"

"We…" One of them swallowed, looking ridiculously guilty. "We just can't stop him! We've sent hundreds of Hollow in to do it, and he keeps mowing them down! The regular troops aren't enough, even two _Numeros _got taken out! That's why we called for a brace of _Menos, _to try and overwhelm him!"

"What?"! Tezima looked between them, disbelief written large on the half of her face still visible. "You're telling me our advance is being held up by _one man? _There are no captains left on the field, so how could that be?"

One of them looked about to respond, when the howl of a _Menos _behind her drowned him out. They started and glanced fearfully at the cannibal behemoths who had answered their call for aid.

Feeling annoyed by this craven behavior, Enfain moved past her stunned associates in the direction of the fight that was still ongoing. Emerging around the edge of a smoldering bakeshop, she had a clear view of what was taking place.

Atop a small mound of rubble from a collapsed house, there stood a man ringed around with attacking Hollows. He was tall and solidly built, with shaggy dark hair and long muscular arms. The fabric of his clothes was shredded to pieces, revealing deeply tanned brown skin beneath the sheen of blood and sweat that caused his broad chest to shine. However, the implements attached to his arms showed no sign of damage. They looked to be gauntlets, the left being bone-white with a spike extending from the shoulder, while the right was black and violet and touted a broad shield emerging from the forearm.

As Tezima watched, the crowd of Hollows around this lone fighter rushed to surround him. The man laid about, swinging back and forth to answer their assaults. His shield-arm scattered the attackers no matter their size, while in his left hand, he appeared to be wielding a weapon of some kind. A club, perhaps, white and fairly short but no less effective by the looks of things. None of their brethren could break through his defense regardless of what skills they employed to the task.

Then, just when it looked for a moment as if the press might be about to drag him down, he pumped his right arm, and a cone of blue fire roared forth from it.

The watching _arrancar _ducked back, and the shot roared by her down the street. Was that a _Cero? _When it passed and she had mastered her understandable shock, she once more looked out at the battle.

A charred swath of smoking earth was what caught her attention first. This stretched long past her field of vision in the direction it had traveled. Back at the fight, fully a quarter of the assault force had been wiped out by the blast. The rest hung back fearfully, seemingly unwilling to share their fellows' fate.

Now that there was a lull in the fighting and their enemy was standing still, it suddenly became obvious what he was holding in his hand.

"Is that a… jawbone?"

"That's what I said!" another Hollow piped up behind her. "I said, 'Hey, he's beating us off with a jawbone!', but nobody believed me."

She turned back about and regarded them. "Who _is _he? That's no shinigami, I can tell you that! So what is he doing here?"

All she received in return were shrugs and uncertain looks. However, the one from before was still intent on asserting her corroboration. "You know, call me crazy, but I could swear I've seen that bone before. I know nobody else wants to hear this but… don't you think it looks a lot like Yammy Rialgo's mask fragment? You know, that ugly square jaw of his that was bigger than his whole face? I saw him eat once, and could never get over how that thing moved, it was like a cow chewing its cud or something. Really, it looked…"

They were all staring at him now, and he trailed off.

Enfain Tezima cocked her head. "So you're saying one man is stopping our army with the jawbone of an ass."

Nobody spoke up.

"It doesn't matter anyway," the female scout declared to them. "We've got a force a thousand Hollows strong in this area, plus the _Menos_ now. He can't beat them all."

As if to confirm this statement, another of their _Grande _pack reared up and let loose a tremendous howl.

A second later, a burst of blue light roared overhead, and the bellowing giant now sported a hole where the top of its face had once been.

It collapsed over on its back, shaking the ground, and all the lesser Hollows present stared in disbelief.

Snapping out of her trance first, Enfain swept her fingers down and opened up a garganta. Glancing over at the huddle of minor officers, she nodded and said, "This area was assigned to you. Fight that bruiser or explain why you didn't to Grimmjow. Your choice. I'm out."

She left them then, returning to her duty of acting as a courier. But as she did, a question lingered.

_Why? _Why were these shinigami fighting so well? Weren't all death gods supposed to be cowards at heart? Faced with a superior force, they should have fallen over themselves surrendering. That's what Aizen had told them. What was it that prevented them from simply being overrun as had been predicted?

Could it be we're not going to win?

No. That couldn't be. Even if their army failed to achieve victory here, once Aizen and the other _vasto lorde _returned, they would make short work of the Gotei 13.

Of course, if we don't succeed, he's likely to dispose of the rest of us along with them.

So there was only one solution, and that was to win.

* * *

On the outskirts of the First Division offices, her strength gave out, and Sachiko collapsed. Her prosthetic leg made a hollow thud when it struck the stone, announcing her failure for all to hear.

What can I do? There's no strength left in my leg. I can't go any further. I've failed. It would be best to just lie here and die.

This conclusion seemed insurmountable.

But a second later she found herself crawling forward nonetheless. Every breath was becoming harsh in her lungs, as though she could taste the awesome reaitsu still swirling around these buildings. They said when caught in a fire, you should get low to the ground in order to avoid the smoke. Don't know why that came to me right now. Perhaps I'm trying to think of anything other than giving in.

Up a flight of stairs she went, one handhold at a time. Fugunushi tried not to think of her pitiable body or how far off she might be from where she had to go. Instead she filled her mind with thoughts of her previous life, in which she had served well and faithfully alongside her dear Kenta, doing him and the Gotei 13 proud. There were days spent together, sharing each others' company on riverbanks or watching fireworks ascend and explode in the twilight sky as it deepened into true night. Administrative duties, meaningless things made memorable by something one of them said or did, jokes they had shared and laughed about. Yes, there had been a time in her life when she was happy.

Before she knew it, Sachiko found herself before the great doors to the captains' conference room. A sense of achievement at having made it this far made her stop and smile in triumph.

Unfortunately, the halt in her progress let her know that her arms were almost dead from weariness, such that all she could do was lie face-down panting and gasping for breath in the shadow of those colossal open portals.

I can't. I can't go on. Kenta, please forgive me. There's nothing I can do.

In this position, Sachiro failed to see something coming towards her.

It flowed over the ground, a patch of shadow that somehow seemed darker than all the rest. When it approached her, this shade paused, as though surprised.

Then it came to a decision, and slipped over to join her shadow. As it did, Fugunushi could have sworn she smelled blood.

Get up.

She did. No question. There was strength again suddenly, enough to at least move. Not questioning where it might have come from, she placed her hands on the ground and pushed, finally standing up. Wavering slightly on her unbalanced legs, the maimed shinigami tottered forward, heading in the direction of the monster whose presence continued to push against her body while drawing at her heart.

At least let me see it. That's all I ask. Let me see it and spit in its face, let it know what Kenta meant to me before I die. Nothing else matters.

Sachiko kept going, and her shadow kept pace behind her.

* * *

Rukia came awake slowly.

A dull throbbing in her ears informed her that something powerful must be close by. She heard sounds that might have been voices, and the unmistakable clash of blades, even if somewhat faint.

Aizen Unohana Byakuya Renji Ichigo!

It all came back at once, and the weary woman forced her eyes open to find out if any of her loved ones might be dead.

This room was a lot brighter than she remembered, probably having something to do with the gigantic hole blown in a wall that allowed for daylight to come glimmering through. The first thing she could pick out was that she seemed to be lying down. And standing up.

She was sitting on the floor with Orihime next to her, and at the same time she was standing thirty feet away talking to Byakuya and Captain Hitsugaya.

Rukia blinked No. That's not me. Whoever it is, they just look like me. There's Ishida, and Nemu Kurotsuchi. Which means that clone must be Mayuri's handiwork. Why?

Doesn't matter. Where's…?

She turned her head.

ICHIGO!

At the far end of what looked to be seemed to be another titanic mole tunnel, she could see him, engaged in a fight to the death alongside Zaraki Kenpachi and Yumichika against the _Espada _Ulquiorra Schiffer. They were moving at such speeds it was hard to distinguish one from the other, but all the same she recognized them. And she also noticed that for whatever reason, Ichigo wasn't wearing his mask in this fight. Which meant he was going to get destroyed.

A frantic glance around informed her that while there didn't seem to be any other enemies in sight, her allies didn't look to be much concerned with going to help them. Struggling to her feet, Rukia stumbled towards them.

"Hey!"

She ran right into something that didn't budge and sat down heavily as a result. A barrier! Was this why she was having trouble sensing peoples' soul signatures? Who had put it there? The captains were so intent on their work they didn't even notice her.

What's going on?

From the depths of her soul, she felt the pain that Sode no Shirayuki remained in as a result of their attack on Yamamoto. There was no chance of calling upon her zanpakutō for aid at this time. Her body felt worn out, like she had been running a marathon kidō course 'til she collapsed from exhaustion. How am I going to get free of this force field?

Inspiration struck. Orihime! Turning she dropped down and grabbed the unconscious girl's shoulders shaking her forcefully and screaming at her.

"Wake up! Orihime Inoue, you have to wake up! I need your help, please, Ichigo is in danger, we have to try and help him! COME ON, OPEN YOUR EYES!"

There was no response.

Looking up, Rukia saw Zaraki Kenpachi flying through the air, and understood the worst was about to happen.

* * *

Ichigo swore. Cut him once! Come on, just once, one time let him not block it, show me some sign that he's starting to fade!

Ulquiorra had conceivably been in his _Segunda Etapa _form for hours now. Was it really the same as a ban-kai, meaning that it used up a lot of energy and couldn't be held for very long? Certainly didn't seem that way. Every swing, be it from sword or fist, was parried, whether on the haft of his lance or caught on those wicked black claws. The bat-winged fiend was actually fast enough to prevent any blows from coming near his body. But for the last few seconds at least, Ulquiorra hadn't been able to make any attacks of his own. Maybe it was the fact that he was faced with three people all engaging him in close-quarters combat.

Whatever the case, Ichigo certainly hoped that it would last.

His luck held, because it didn't.

There was no warning. One minute he was aiming for Ulquiorra's elbow, some part of him still clinging to the plan of trying to turn his own weapon against him. The next he was off his feet and slamming into solid rock, pain driving through his skull like a railroad spike.

Don't close your eyes, dammit! Keep awake or you're dead!

This command allowed him to catch a glimpse of Yumichika being picked up on the heft of one leathery wing and flung away as well.

Then it was just Zaraki.

The captain's aura was so powerful it looked almost solid, a shadowy other version of Kenpachi that lagged behind every movement in the manner of a time-lapse photograph. Were he fighting anyone else, it was unlikely they would be able to hold out against him. But this was a _vasto lorde_; not so much a single opponent as it was a compressed planet's worth of souls. The rarest and most dangerous of any type of spiritual entities, even greater than shinigami captains.

Schiffer proved this, when he suddenly reached up and snapped off his own horn, the one Kenpachi had cut earlier. With this makeshift dagger, he caught the next stroke from that deadly longsword and swung his own in return.

There was no choice but to try and grab it with his free hand, and so the captain did. His fingers wrapped around the _Lanza_, and seemed to melt even as it cut right through his palm and split his forearm.

Schiffer looked Zaraki right in the eye, and from his place slumped against the wall, Ichigo felt a horrible premonition of what was coming next, right at the exact moment the _Espada _lifted a finger and fired a _Cero Oscuras _point-blank in the giant's unprotected face.

Ichigo expected to see the big man get beheaded. Instead, when the beam had run its course, he was surprised to find that this was not the case.

In point of fact, he was stunned beyond incomprehension when there didn't seem to be any damage to the captain at all.

To be perfectly fair, Kenpachi too looked a bit unsure by this turn of events, furrowing his brow and tilting his head to the accompaniment of no noise for once, as the bells on his hair were gone.

This was nothing compared to the look on Ulquiorra's face, as the _Espada _opened his mouth and actually screamed in fury. Then he lashed out with one leg and booted Zaraki in the gut, sending him flying back the way they originally came.

After this, the demonic entity turned his attention back to Ichigo.

* * *

As he flew through the air, Zaraki pondered a few things.

Hey.

_What?_

I forgot to ask, but do you have a special ability I'm not aware of?

_Yes. I make you completely invulnerable to anything along the lines of energy-based attacks. That includes acids, burns, and cold. Only something that stabs, cuts, or bludgeons can injure you when I am drawn._

Oh. Thanks.

_You're welcome._

He hit the ground and slid along it for a ways, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

And then Rukia Kuchiki was looking down at him and yelling like somebody annoying he knew.

"Get over here, Kenpachi, you nimrod! We need your help to kill that thing!"

* * *

"HE DIDN'T DIE!" Ulquiorra howled incredulously even as his horn grew back. "I hit him HEAD-ON and he DIDN'T DIE!"

He took a step toward the injured boy, shaking with undeniable wrath.

"WHY?"

Kurosaki was slowly sliding upright, using the wall for support. "Would you just shut up, Ulquiorra?"

No. Not me.

You.

He was about to fire another _Cero_, but then remembered how that had just fared. So instead he raised his _Lanza del Relámpago. _At this range, he knew that there was no avoiding injury to himself. But at the same time, that made absolutely no difference. As long as this… _creature _would stop _living in the same world as me! I'VE HAD ENOUGH!_

As Ulquiorra hoisted his weapon aloft, a strange tickling ran over his bicep.

And he finally noticed something.

Or more precisely… someone.

The figure flashed around him, very fast, but one sweep of his tail was all it took to send that form flying, the spell that sought to conceal its presence from him broken.

Turning, he saw a man dressed in black go crashing to the ground several yards away. No one he recognized, but that hardly mattered anyway. Whatever that person had been trying to do, it clearly didn't work. So all that remains…

Ulquiorra turned back towards Ichigo.

As he did, the Espada noticed a faint sparkle along his outstretched forearm.

What?

Abruptly two spirit signatures dropped down at his back.

"NOW, GANJU!"

"_A sign of benevolence, a binding to keep all children safe/ Dreams and prayers so heavy to bear…!"_

He spun about. Not five feet behind him, two figures dressed in black were crouched a few paces apart. Their spiritual presence was low compared to all the rest, such that only now when he focused did it come to him clearly. One was bulky and thick, while its counterpart was slender and missing an arm. They both seemed to be holding something tightly in one hand, but nothing was there.

A sense of foreboding stole over him, and Ulquiorra quickly reassessed where his next targets lay. He whipped back his _Lanza _to throw.

"_Bless us and protect us, give us peace from our fears…"_

"NO!" Kurosaki shrieked, but too late.

Too late…

Ulquiorra saw something sparkle along the ground.

"_Fair touch…"_

It looked to be lines of spider's web, running over to where those people sat. Only then did it occur to him that the same glint had come off his arm earlier.

And suddenly he knew the truth. So overpowering was it that the _Espada's_ body actually froze, going stiff with shock in the very act of saving himself.

Impossible.

They've got it.

They've got _Stark's CHAIN!_

"…_whose name is GLEIPNIR!"_

The gossamer links glowed, now visible as being wound around Ulquiorra's body everywhere that odd tickling sensation had come from before. Ancient magic even older than himself activated at the final utterance of the invocation.

And then the chains yanked taut around him. A weight of unbearable force sent the _vasto lorde _crashing down to one knee. His legs felt rooted to the floor, arms pulled in and clamped against his chest, the _Lanza _vanishing in an instant. Those great black wings were tied up like brown paper packages and furled tight on themselves.

Before him where the two sorcerers crouched, the lagging ends of Gleipnir they had been clutching were now anchoring to the stone, setting into round carvings which were forming that bore the mark of magic runes.

Like the _fenris _before him, the _bas celik_ was captured.

Death had been bound.

* * *

Yumichika swept over to the figure in black whom Ulquiorra had thrown away. It stirred at his approach and moaned. Removing some of the petals from his inner robe, he bent and pushed aside the person's mask, intending to heal them even without Rui'iro's tangible aid.

The face he saw there caused his jaw to drop.

"Sasakibe-fukutaichou!"

The white-haired lieutenant of Division One winced in pain, then cracked his golden eyes open.

"Failed…" he murmured, and coughed. "I failed her… don't go… near it…"

"No, jii-san_, _you got him," Ayasegawa breathed softly. "It worked, he's chained. You did well."

Reaching up, he tried to place one of the petals in the old man's mouth, only to have his wrist caught in a fist of steel.

"No!" Chojiro Sasakibe gasped and looked up at him through a haze of pain. "I didn't…"

And tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I didn't… get it into his _mouth…! He can… still attack…!"_

Yumichika froze.

He then heard the most horrible scream.

* * *

I am Death I am Death I am Death.

This line was running over and over in his head as he struggled ineffectively against the cords that bound him. Specifically designed to entrap _vasto lorde, _the links proved impervious to his great strength, not even allowing him to budge an inch. His _Lanza _did not reform when he called it. Even his tail was wrapped around his leg. He was caught in the web of magic.

I am Death I am Death I am Death.

Along with this insane litany, another thought ran in counterpoint, with the madness as background music.

I am Death.

And Death… cannot be bound.

Certain of this, he opened his mouth and was extraordinarily pleased when the regular _Cero _began to build up without any hesitation.

There is nothing I cannot kill.

And with this he took aim at the pair who had so profaned him.

* * *

The stone shackle formed beneath her hand slowly as she mouthed the proper phrases, and Kūkakku did not dare to look away from it, even when she felt the raw murderous power rising from within the beast. Damn. Guess this plan didn't work as well as we had hoped.

But I am Shiba. It is my duty to finish this binding no matter what.

She felt achingly proud to realize that Ganju hadn't panicked at the realization of what was coming. He stayed beside her, mumbling the spell and rooting the chain in place with his earth magic just as she did. Without this final incantation, the _vasto lorde _might still escape. It needed to be tied to one specific spot. They both understood that. As Shiba, the Guardians of the Words, it was their place to do this.

Or rather, it is my place.

I am so proud of you, little brother. But I never intended for you to die here.

Without skipping a syllable, the ferocious noblewoman lashed out with her foot and kicked Ganju clear across the hall.

"NEE-SAN!"

It's all right. One should be enough.

The final word was spoken, and the sigil of the Shiba was impressed within that seal.

Just in time, as a burst of black light washed over her.

Kaien, here I come. With a bang!

* * *

"ULQUIORRA!"

Ichigo saw what was about to happen, and made his choice in an instant.

There was no time to charge a Getsuga, no guarantee it would even get his attention, much less hurt him. But there is one thing that I think Ulquiorra won't be able to ignore.

Me. And my big mouth.

Ichigo Kurosaki threw himself towards that horrific thing, just as he had what seemed a lifetime ago, when a monster had been threatening his little sister.

Only this time, a shinigami wouldn't be there to jump in and save him.

_I am here, Ichigo._

Thanks, jii-san. I appreciate it.

With that, he opened his mouth and roared a challenge to his nemesis.

"ULQUIORRA!"

The demon's head turned and looked right at him. Its eyes focused in, wide as could be and totally without reason.

Try it. See if fourth time's the charm. I won't back down to you.

I am the number one guardian, and don't you forget it.

As he thought this, a black butterfly fluttered into his field of view.

* * *

Yumichika heard the human's cry, and made his decision in an instant.

He has no right.

Awash with the power he had robbed from Kurosaki, the slender fighter let go of Sasakibe and spun, moving as fast as his super-charged legs could go.

He saw the boy staggering forward in his attempt to be heroic. Such an ugly display.

He saw the Hollow turn its head to destroy that heroism. Even uglier.

With the speed of shunpō, Yumichika crossed the divide between them and leapt, robes flapping around him. He briefly wished there was someone to take a picture of this scene.

And then he landed right against Ulquiorra's shoulder. His hands grasped hold of those twin horns, and calling upon all the strength he had in his body at this time, the martial arts master wrenched that head violently away from him as far as he could.

He felt the neck bones snap beautifully, and the thing stiffened beneath him.

Splendid.

Then the head moved. It kept turning, beyond what he had intended, until the whole thing rotated in a circle, neck twisting like a rag until it faced him.

There was a _Cero _burning in its mouth equal to the madness in its black and green eyes.

_Yumichika!_

A sword cut into the Hollow's throat then, and another tore through its chest, causing its aim to alter somewhat.

But when the black beam of murderous light shot out, it still connected.

Yumichika was flung back, his arm and the right half of his chest burned completely away.

Absolutely splendid.

When he hit the ground a second later, he could have sworn he heard Rukia scream his name.

* * *

"Know ye not of any reason to fear/ As you blow out the billionth candle/ Stand forever…!"

The last barrier crumbled, and before Nanao could race to complete her incantation, Hinamori-Tobiume shrieked, _"SAI!"_

Immediately her arms were pinned behind her back, and the bespectacled sorceress found herself pressed face-down to the ground. But still she continued to speak. "…as a monument to the end of dr…"

"_SILVER TONGUE STRIKING ASP!"_

"Hadō 100: Grand Pa…!"

Her throat seized up, preventing her from uttering that final crucial part. Around them, the glowing green pagoda simply faded away as fast as it had appeared.

Gasping breathlessly, Hinamori-Tobiume stumbled to a halt before her and wiped a trembling hand across her pale sweating brow.

"_I didn't think…you could do it…"_ she panted, staring at the imprisoned Nanao with a look of mingled fear and rage. _"Never heard anybody try using Grand Palace of the Death God, let alone pulling it off. But it looked like it was actually going to work for you." _

Nanao remained silent where she lay, blood pooling beneath her.

Her hair and the left side of her face was burnt, and Momo was walking with a limp while clutching her shattered left wrist. But Tobiume still continued to float menacingly beside her, indicating that the two of them had not reached their limits.

"_You were really going to… kill me!" _Looking like she wanted to kick Ise but being unable to with her injured leg, the witch settled for spitting on her instead. _"So much for you, lieutenant. Too bad you don't have any more enchanted items on you. That's all she wrote."_

And with a malicious giggle, Tobiume started to spin. The beam that came out of it now was as thin as a hair, but no less lethal for it.

"_I think we're going to carve you up a little bit at a time. Give you a chance to really feel it. A foot here, couple of fingers there. Maybe when I'm done, I'll show you off to Kyōraku, see if he still thinks you look 'kawaii'!"_

The glowing red line began to burn its way across the stone towards her, and Nanao took a deep breath. Bound together behind her back, one hand slipped into her sleeve.

"Stare in Devotion…"

"_What? What did you…?"_

Her fingers coaxed the dagger out of its sheathe.

"_Ureshii Onnanoko!"_

With a curse Momo sent her zanpakutō surging forward, but then both of them were blown back by the release of spirit energy.

The low-level spell holding her down crumbled, and Nanao Ise, lieutenant of the Eighth division, rose to her full height. Hair in disarray, blood staining her robes, she brought her right hand up. Held in her fist was what looked like a blacksmith's hammer, with a rectangular gray head the size of a cantaloupe and a thick wooden handle one foot long with runes carved all up and down it. This large, heavy instrument looked completely out of place in her delicate little fingers, but she held it without any sign of discomfort.

"DANKU!"

Standing a few yards away, safe behind the barrier she had just invoked, Hinamori-Tobiume stared for a second, then laughed.

"_Are you serious? THAT'S your zanpakutō? What a joke! I've never seen anything so ridicu…! What, are you going to pound some nails for me? Come on, sing along, 'If I had a haaamer/ I'd hammer in the moooorning/ I'd hammer in the evening…"_

And she threw back her head and laughed crazily.

"_I finally understand why you've been hiding something as useless as that!"_

"I did have my reasons for not wanting to use this," Nanao replied evenly, reaching up to push a stray hank of hair behind her ear. "But you have forced my hand."

Fire leaked out of Tobiume's eye, both the zanpakutō and its mistress looking contemptuously at her. _"Idiot, you'll never catch me swinging that big ugly thing. Don't embarrass yourself."_

"I have no intention of chasing you any further."

Momo glowered at her. _"Unless you plan to hit yourself in the throat with that hunk of metal, my spell still keeps you from using any of your own. Whatever special ability that thing has, it won't change the fact that you're completely outmatched!"_

"You mentioned before that I was out of spell artifacts."

Aizen's follower narrowed her eyes suspiciously but did not respond.

"Well, I do have one more left." She tapped the front of her glasses briefly. "These. They're designed specifically for me, courtesy of Captain Ukitake should I ever decide to use my shikai, which thankfully isn't often."

Nanao wore a look that many who knew her would have recognized. It was the face of the Iron Filing Mistress, the person who brooked no subordinate to ever speak flippantly to her or behave in a manner she considered disrespectful.

"He did this because he knew that, like my captain, I cannot fully control the extent of my soul cutter's power. And in addition, he recognized that I take no pleasure in its use." Her voice dropped an octave then. "Ordinarily."

Behind the wall of Danku, Hinamori-Tobiume placed a hand on her hip sardonically. _"You and Shiro-kun, you both sound like you're reading out of some corny novel. You should have stuck to the library, 'Nanao-chan'."_

And that did it.

"This fight," Nanao stated calmly, "is done."

"_HELL YEAH, DUMBASS! AND YOU'RE DEAD!"_

Tobiume roared to life, a three-foot wide column of scarlet energy firing straight down from it. The disc of death sped towards the cool-eyed sorceress, while at the same time, Momo raised her hand palm up.

"_Hiryugekizok…!"_

Nanao took off her glasses.

To Momo's surprise, she realized that the woman's eyes had changed color. They were orange and flaring strangely and…

Hinamori-Tobiume stared into those burning eyes.

She continued to do so as the light in them seemed to grow. She stared, and as that cold radiance increased 'til it was washing out everything else around her, Momo began to scream. Shrill, terrified wails ripped from her throat, while all she could see turned into orange light and the eyes staring reproachfully back at her.

A moment later, it was over. Nanao returned her glasses to their rightful place.

Tobiume dropped to the ground by Momo's feet with a thud.

All was quiet.

Lieutenant Ise paused to adjust her attire.

Did you get her?

_Yup. The picture's right here, and it came out really cute! You wanna come see?_

Later.

_Okey-dokey, Nanao._

She then walked over to where her enemy stood.

Momo Hinamori did not move at her approach. Not even a little. For where once there had been a living breathing spirit, now there was only a grey stone statue, a perfect representation of the girl it had once been down to the look of terror all over her face.

Coming to stand before that lump of rock, Nanao inspected it closely. "Danku will only protect against spells up to Level 89." She tapped the head of her hammer. "This is Level 91."

No response came. But then, she hadn't been expecting any.

Instead, Nanao drew back and raised Ureshii high overhead.

"For Kyōraku-taichou," she whispered angrily, and brought the solid steel mass down.

It only took one blow to really finish it, but Nanao continued until there was nothing but dust and fragments remaining. Then she went to help the other shinigami.

* * *

The rest of the battle around them was thinning as the Hollows pressed their forward momentum and the outnumbered shinigami gave ground unwillingly. But neither of the top fighters bothered to notice this much.

A whirling dervish of claws and limbs, Grimmjow was tearing away at the tremendous snake skull Renji had raised to ward against the blows. Bone chips and pieces of fangs flew to either side, and that piece of Zabimaru shrieked in pain.

I need him distracted.

_You got it._

He flung the skull away, and for a moment the Hollow looked surprised by this decision. But instinct took over, and he swept his talons down. They tore through the fabric of Renji's mantle, drawing blood as they went. Renji, however, grabbed hold of his arm with both hands and held tight.

The _Sexta _reacted by opening his mouth to fire off a _Cero._

It therefore came as something of a surprise when red light flared behind him, and another destructive beam hit the Hollow right in the back.

Zabimaru's head floated in midair behind him, and as Grimmjow yowled in pain from the attack, the shinigami hybrid did the only thing that made any sense.

He opened his mouth and bit him.

Right on the arm, through the bone plate-mail that covered this creature from chest to toe, and when he tasted blood, Renji coughed up his own polluted plasma into it.

The reaction was more than he had expected. Even as the beast roared in rage and surprise, a noxious black ooze flowed out from its veins and directly into Renji's face. But still he didn't let go. Grimmjow swore and proceeded to sink his teeth into the other fighter's throat, only to rear back a second later, coughing and spitting forth the ichor that flowed through him. Enraged, he then clenched his free fist and brought it slamming down hard on Abarai's skull, kneeing him in the gut at the same time.

These blows, combined with the invasive element that was threatening to suffocate him, forced the red-haired shinigami to let go. Drawing in a great gulp of fresh air, he took a firm hold of Jeaguerjaques' arm, spun around and flung him away with a shout.

The Hollow tucked and spun as before, landing on his feet with the agility of a cat. Despite this, he did not press his attack, only stood swaying for a few seconds, before beginning to claw and bite desperately at his own arm, looking for all the world like he was attempting to rid himself of something that was causing him intense pain. None of the other injuries that Grimmjow had endured during this battle had given him noticeable distress. Except for this.

Renji was down on one knee, dizzy from the impact to his head and struggling to catch his breath again. As he watched, that same dark substance emerged from the enemy general's wounds like it was being expelled. Then, before his eyes, the black tar seemed to force its way back into Grimmjow's body. A glow that was undeniably powerful shimmered around him, and the _Espada _roared until the very air seemed to quake.

_There IS something wrong with him! Your Hollow blood tells me that he's been infected with another soul that's giving him a power boost, but at the cost of his own._

_**The dullahan…**_

Well, look who's talking again. Did you enjoy your cat-nap?

_**Piss off, Your Highness. However we feel about each other, there's an older grudge in this fight for me. **_

_And that would be?_

_**This feels like a holdover from my other life before I became part of you, but I recognize that the magic empowering him belongs to something called the dullahan. Whatever that is, I know it hunted me a long time ago. And I hate it!**_

How does that help us?

_**It's foreign to his system! And I'm fighting it even now from when he took some of me inside himself. If you give him more, I might be able to kill it! Then he'll lose all that power.**_

You expect me to give him a blood transfusion?

_I've heard worse plans from you._

Grimmjow stood upright and flung out his arms. Immediately those mile-long blue scythes of his came into being from each fingernail. Renji grimaced at the sight of them.

I don't think he's gonna let us get that close to him again.

_If we could cage him somehow, or distract him, even for a little while, there might be a way._

I don't know that much about binding spells, and certainly not the kind that would be of any use here. Too bad Ukitake isn't around this time, I could go for some kick-ass kidō.

_**You've got something better than kidō. We're all in the same soul. Zanpakuto, Hollow, and Renji. My venom is running through Zabimaru as surely as it is you. Do you see what I'm getting at?**_

Yeah… I think I do. So if I can keep his attention off Hihiō Zabimaru… okay, then, let's see about finding a way to get his attention!

_Ahhh… Renji?_

Yeah?

_I believe our distraction just walked in._

What?

_**Hell, yeah. And it's pretty damn smoking hot!**_

Perplexed, Renji looked in the direction that his split soul indicated.

At the sight of what had entered into their field of battle, he found himself agreeing with his Hollow.

More importantly, it gave him a great idea.

* * *

**Serve the… king… kill them… carry out… his wishes…**

Blue hair flew as Grimmjow shook his head wildly, trying to rid it of something that he now recognized didn't belong inside him. But this unwanted entity resisted his wishes. To be honest, the intruder was probably the source of his increased power during this fight. For all this, now that he was no longer obeying every damn thing it said, its mindless subservient muttering was starting to rob him of his focus in this fight. To say nothing of getting on his nerves.

"Gotta stay on top," he panted to himself. "Need to kill this son of a bitch quick… get back to business! That's what these puppies are for!" He flexed his fingers, and the _Desgarrón _moved in time.

Just as Grimmjow was about to spring forward once again, a sense of approaching danger caused the hairs at the base of his neck to prickle. His long lynx ears twitched as they picked out the sound of a rhythmic gait pounding the earth above the cacophony of carnage being waged around them.

When he realized who it was, all thought of his inner turmoil went straight out of his head, replaced with bloodthirsty delight.

"**Oh, yeah."**

On the edge of the cleared space in which they fought, a sweeping explosion cleared out anyone that had been fighting in that area. After the noise died down, it was easy for him to pick out the sound of hooves.

A second later, Neliel tu Odelschvank vaulted through the smoke from her attack and trotted onto the scene of their private duel. Coming to a halt, the armored centaur pawed the ground restlessly with her hooves and fastened her sandy-brown eyes on the _Sexta._

"You said you would come looking for me, Grimmjow. I've learned not to leave it up to men when a fight takes place. That only leads to trouble."

"**Neliel,"** he panted, grinning and wiping his sweating brow. **"You've put on a few pounds since last I saw you, not to mention grown some extra legs. But that's just more for me to eat!"**

Two of them now. But it looked as though the half-breed was running on fumes. If he could just get his blood under control, this fight would be over. No doubt about it. He still had lots of reserves to spare.

When you're outnumbered, best strategy is to even the odds. That means taking out the weaker one first. Separate the sickly one from the herd and bring it down quick. The thrill of the hunt, of the kill! With that in mind, he turned towards where that mask fighter still remained crumpled on the ground.

**Kill…them…**

I know, already, you damn echo!

It was only a momentary distraction, but Neliel saw her opportunity all the same. She whipped that double-ended lance of hers up and flung it straight at him.

Grimmjow was more than able to handle this assault. A sweep of his energy claws deflected the missile with ease but failed to destroy it. Instead the javelin embedded itself in the earth, and seeing her unarmed, Grimmjow decided to take advantage of a few things himself. Namely, culling the herd.

He flew at her then. The ex-_Tercera_ answered this charge, her powerful lower body churning the ground to mud. Suicide rush? Hey, I can respect that. But don't expect me to assume that's all you've got in mind, lady.

This proved a wise precaution, for when he brought his nail-extensions scissoring down, the cavalry rider held out a gloved hand, and her tournament lance shot out of the earth back into her grip. Green beams then emerged from either tip, growing to a tremendous length in less than a second, and it was on this powered-up pole that she caught the entirety of his attack. Her hooves dug into the earth as she ground to a halt, straining under the strength of Pantera's ultimate technique.

Teeth clenched, Neliel slid backwards, and Grimmjow increased the pressure with a grin. To one side he noticed the shinigami was upright again. Better see to that quick. Angling his arm, the were-cat fired several darts from his elbows. These projectiles streaked towards their target, who managed to spring aside to avoid them.

For all the good that would do him.

At his silent command, the missiles exploded, and that red-headed monkey was caught in the blast. Laughing excitedly, the war leader turned his attention back to Neliel, who was struggling to bear the weight of his talons. Her lance extensions were flickering, growing weaker. Relishing what would happen when they finally gave out, he bore down even harder, and the centaur's back legs began to quiver.

* * *

**NOW! Nail him!**

My pleasure.

And Renji screamed as loud as he could.

"**HOT POTATO, NEL!"**

* * *

It wasn't the shout, a sense of reiatsu, or any real instinct that saved him. Instead Grimmjow's phenomenal ears detected the sound of something rushing towards him, and without question he bent his knees and leapt straight into the air.

The viper skull of the bone whip passed mere inches beneath him, fast enough and dangerous enough to make him glad he had dodged it. Instead it was the rebellious _Tercera_ who seemed about to get a kiss from that monster as it flew straight at her, unable to bank around or halt its own momentum. The _Sexta _came back to earth. With his _Desgarrón _still holding her down, there was no way she could avoid it, and no time to charge a _Cero_ by the looks of things_._

**Blood…death…**

Yeah. This oughtta be _good! _Let's not forget about the other one, though.

Grimmjow flicked his head around to locate his prey, and it was owing to this that he missed what happened next.

Neliel did not attempt to dodge, duck, or otherwise avoid the truncated serpent coming right at her. Instead she pivoted, her legs cantering sidewise and bringing her around in a full turn while keeping her spear held firmly overhead. Now facing away from the incoming threat, she judged her moment accurately, then bunched her muscles and kicked backwards with all her strength.

Her hooves connected precisely at the right angle, and Hihiō Zabimaru's skull went spinning end over end away from her.

Jeaguerjaques' attention came back around just in time to see that sharp-toothed mouth rushing back towards him.

His mind screamed, MOVE!

His blood howled, **KILL!**

Caught in momentary conflict about how to react to this threat, he wound up doing nothing, and those fearsome jaws clamped shut around his body.

As they did, the snake fangs injected him with venom, formed of its own dark side, and then Grimmjow knew true pain.

His energy-blades shut off. Reaching down, the crazed panther gripped the snake's head and wrenched it apart, separating it into jaw and skull which he flung away.

But the damage had been done.

**Bloodbloodk-k-kill! The king! Serve him serve him foreve…!**

_**Got you, skeleton bastard! Time for you to die, yes indeed!**_

His body jerked and danced from the war being waged inside himself, and Jeaguerjaques fought to regain control of his limbs. He tried to scream, but was prevented by something welling up inside him. Strangling on a taste that was indescribably foul, he strove with all his might to be rid of this contamination.

**Majesty… Barragan-sama! Fight… NO!**

Without warning a torrent of black smoke came spilling out of the _Espada's _lungs, while from all his wounds what looked like ink poured in rivulets. There came a faint wail of misery, and then all evidence of Barragan's infection evaporated. Renji's venom also disappeared, deprived of anything to sustain its vendetta.

With its passing, the leader of Aizen's army collapsed.

* * *

"**Nice teamwork," **Renji commented as he slipped out of the gigantic vertebrae which had shielded him from the previous explosion.

"All the more so since we didn't plan it out beforehand." The green-haired beauty trotted up, affixing him with a slightly curious look. "How did you know I would understand what you meant?"

Abarai shrugged in response as he began to slip smaller remnants of his zanpakutō's spine onto his forearms, sliding them over his elbow and up to his armpits to form braces similar to Chad's. **"I got stuck wandering around with Pesche for a while in Hueco Mundo. He wouldn't shut up, and I remember him saying that one of your favorite games to play together was something called 'Hot Potato'. It stuck in my head because he had to explain to me what that meant, and it was so indescribably weird."**

"Not weird," she insisted. "Fun! Nel was the potato, and all three of them would toss me back and forth! The game was over when I got so sick I threw up on one of them. That one became the loser."

"**Nice," **her ally declared flatly.

A feral snarl came from off to one side, and both warriors turned to regard the _Espada_ as he came unsteadily to his feet.

Neliel called out to him in a firm voice. "Grimmjow. You're weakened from the turmoil Barragan put you through. There's little chance you'll survive a fight with us. I see no reason you should die for any king, Aizen or otherwise. Just go home to Hueco Mundo. We won't follow you."

Pale blue eyes regarded the two of them poised for battle, and he reached up and wiped away some blood from his mouth.

"You don't say."

"**She's right," **Renji responded. **"Sōsuke and all those other freaks can go screw for all I care. Forget about their crap and leave! Get away while you still can. You're not a slave. None of us should have to be anymore."**

Tail twitching from side to side, Grimmjow stood, apparently pondering this.

"A slave?"

And slowly, he smiled.

"Aizen can kiss my ass. And so can you! Go fling your own shit across a room, King Ape! I'm not a slave. I'm a leader. And I intend to finish our fight and then lead this army to crush all our enemies!"

With that, he began to stalk forward.

"So be it," Neliel sighed sadly, and hoisting Gamuza, she walked towards him side by side with Renji to continue their battle.

* * *

_Gods, there he is! Would you LOOK at him?_

Yoruichi chose not to chastise her for gawking. Tezcat was right to be impressed. Sōsuke Aizen had truly become something beyond the scope of even the most outlandish dreams of power. He was standing in a nimbus of energy that was palpable from hundreds of meters away, flowing over your skin in an almost maddening caress. How something so huge could be gentle at the same time was a contradiction Yoruichi did not wish to ponder.

Streaking through the ranks of the opposition, she concentrated on making it to the moon god's side. Apparently only the strongest of the Zero fighters could even attempt to engage with him. The rest fell before his aura or were crushed beneath the bloody behemoth that his witch had conjured in their defense.

It was the latter that was taking up most of her attention now. Unohana's ban-kai was earthbound for the moment, breathing destruction all around the area occupied by its mistress. The speed demon's racing legs closed the distance between her and Minazuzenshou, and Yoruichi felt a pit of fear open in her stomach. She knew that she was running straight towards death, and instinct and reason both were pleading with her to turn back, draw no nearer to that looming threat.

"I'm fast enough," she whispered to herself. "I can make it. It'll never even see me coming. None of them will. I just have to go faster! Go _faster!"_

The world was nothing but a blur of bodies and faces going by her. Only the colossal beast that barred her path remained clear, so big it could be seen for miles. But slow, too. Its attacks cover a lot of ground, but it's still nowhere near as quick as I am. I have to watch where it aims and shoot for the gaps in between them. I can do that. I've run through a rain squall and come out dry on the other side! If I can dodge raindrops, this brute doesn't have a chance at catching me.

Watch the heads. See where they're going. A hail of daggers fell before her, and she skipped over them with nary a cut. The dragon's attacks had incredible reach. She was a ways off from it and still forced to take them into consideration. Did Yamamoto really defeat that thing? I know what he was capable of, but hard to believe, all the same. Misty clouds of soft vapor lingered in the area, and she took a breath and held it just in case. Better safe than sorry. This precaution proved unnecessary, as she blew through the fog so fast that it left a hole through that suffocating mist.

Fire rose up on the right, forming a barrier that Yoruichi didn't feel confident of running through without getting crisped. So she altered her path and took on the field occupied by the starvation blaster. This proved much easier to evade as it didn't leave any effects in its wake. The other heads were occupied elsewhere, and suddenly there was an opening in the melee of death incarnate. Without questioning she dove towards that space.

A blast of frost came roaring in from the left, freezing even the air so that an icy wall was left behind it. Damn! It's going to cut right across my path! I've got to make it by before that happens! Pour it on, Tezcat!

_As my lady commands!_

Speed unthinkable even for the strongest of captains blossomed then. Her streaming body angled forward 'til she was almost parallel to the ground. Arms pumping in perfect unison with her legs, she drove herself forward. The pall of a hundred years of inactivity on her part meant nothing now that she had her zanpakutō back. Yoruichi was almost drunk on the exhilaration of her own incredible swiftness. At any moment it felt as if her pace would reach such speeds that it would actually lift her off the ground, and then she would be flying.

Run, Demon-Cat, run! Don't be beaten by a glacier, you'll never be able to live it down! Run for your life, run like Byakuya's chasing behind you, don't ever let him catch you 'til the end, make him earn it! RUN!

She roared by, the frozen knife cutting a mere hand's-breadth behind her heel such that Yoruichi thought she might have lost the back of her foot.

But this was not the case. Then she was running past Minazuzenshou's legs, weaving through those gargantuan redwoods to finally put the crimson menace at her back.

Nothing left between me and Aizen. A short ways off, she caught a glimpse of Retsu floating several feet off the earth in a collection of glowing defensive spells, different-colored pyramids, domes and cylinders containing successive shapes within one another like floating clouds of electrons. And at the center, the nucleus of this magical atom, there was the enchantress herself. Safe within this impenetrable construct, she cast destructive spells of staggering potency out to obliterate the King's defenders. The gracious goddess had finally shown her more vicious side. These people, whose limbs she had once restored and war wounds healed with a mother's gentle grace, were now falling before her terrible power. Did she feel any conflict at doing this, a sense of betrayal? Or was her mind completely intent upon her own injuries this time, the ones that no one had been permitted to see for so many centuries?

Something had led that woman to this state. But to be honest, Yoruichi had no interest in finding out what the reason for it might be. All that mattered was how she responded to Unohana's choices.

The witch wasn't even looking in her direction, and so she abandoned consideration for that opponent and took aim instead for…

_[Going somewhere, Yoruichi-chan?]_

Yoruichi froze. Literally. Stuck in a running pose, everything had gone still and quiet. Normally when she ran like this, it did appear from her point of view as if things around her were acting in slow motion, to the point where some people stopped moving altogether. Only this time the same thing happened to her. She wasn't even breathing, or feeling her heart beat. Her world came to a halt, now reduced to shades of black and white. But she could still think.

And so she recognized when farther off, the glowing colors of Unohana's barriers remained evident in this two-tone plane, along with the person in them.

_[Why am I not surprised to find you here, my dear? You always like to astonish people. I see you made it past all our Espada, in both worlds. My compliments to you]_

_[Get out of my head, witch]_

_[Well, you obviously didn't come to bow down and pledge your eternal allegiance to us. Again, no great surprise. But what does bring you here, if I might ask?]_

_[Can't you read my mind?]_

_[I'm afraid not. What you are experiencing is the power of Minazuzenshou's seventh head, the Weeping Sore. It isn't our minds that are really touching, but our hearts, you see. I can feel the heart of any one person around me. It is not so much an attack as it is the price that I must pay for using her. So that I might bear the burdens of the people whose lives she takes. But I can choose whom I wish to share my heart with. And when I became aware of yours, I decided to see what you might be feeling]_

_[Amaze me, then, grandmother. What am I feeling?]_

_[Fear. A great deal of fear. You probably came here with a plan of some kind, and now that I've caught you, so to speak, you must think that it is doomed to fail. Am I right?]_

_[Yes to the fear. No to the failure]_

_[Indomitable spirit. I like that in you. You would make a worthy queen for Sōsuke]_

_[Are you a matchmaker now, Retsu-sama? I don't recall asking for your services in that respect]_

_[You cannot hope to vanquish us. We are simply too much. Do you think he doesn't know you are here? Folly. Takuiyoku Sōsuke is a true god now. The only reason you have managed to come so close is because he has permitted it. Accept that]_

_[Why don't you let me go after him, then? If he's unbeatable, it can't do any harm, right?]_

_[Can't you feel why? It is because I am afraid, Yoruichi-chan. Were it anyone else here, I wouldn't pay them much mind. But you come courtesy of Kisuke Urahara, don't you? Alone the two of you are not worth a great deal of consideration, but together your qualities represent a formidable threat. And that man is abominably tricky. So much that I have to wonder if it would not have been worth the risk to simply kill him long ago]_

_[You want your boy to be a god, don't you? Then stop playing the mother-hen and let him deal with his own problems]_

_[Ah, appealing to my vanity, my love for him. Yes, I love him. You don't have to ask, it should be obvious, now that we are sharing hearts. He is my son as surely as if he came from my spirit. And I am proud of what he has become]_

_[I'm getting bored over here, Unohana-sama]_

_[You feel what is in my heart, don't you, princess of Shihoin?]_

_[Yes. I can feel your love. And your hatred. It didn't go away after you crushed Yamamoto, I see. That must sting]_

_[I believe, with all my heart, that Sōsuke will be king. But he must believe it too, in order to rule wisely, without even the slightest trace of fear and self-doubt. That is why I do not seek to protect him with any spells during this fight. The man, once grown, must stand on his own. No matter what happens, he must never feel as though his strength might be inadequate. And so if a challenge is made to him, he must answer it himself. With that being said, I release you, Yoruichi Shihoin. Go to him. Go to your god, and bask in his power. See what it means to be truly invincible]_

_[Retsu Unohana]_

_[Yes?]_

_[Thank you, for sharing your heart with me. I understand you so much better now. It makes what I have to do easier somehow. Whether you intended to or not, you have driven away the last of my doubts. And for that you have my gratitude]_

_[You're welcome, dear. Now, off we go]_

The world came back to life so suddenly she would have stumbled were it not for the muscle memory that had been drilled into her body through centuries of forced activity. And so Yoruichi remained true to her course, passing Unohana by swifter than thought and leaving the mother of monsters behind.

At speeds that surpassed the gods, she flashed towards Aizen, and as she did the master shinobi pulled the round ornament attached to her hair-tie loose.

He's got three heads now. Lucky me. I only needed one. You ready, Tezcat?

_Ready and waiting._

Then do it. _Melt._

At this command, the woman's naked body became bereft of solid substance, immaterial as air. Her feet no longer touched the ground. Only momentum carried her forward, and so now incapable of being stopped or injured, she flew towards where Aizen stood.

He was holding aloft with one hand a Zero captain who had managed to make it through. His victim hung limply. While still alive, the man's body was deteriorating into dust, like it could not stand being this close to something so awesome. The _trimurti's _three mouths were open and laughing gaily.

Yoruichi picked one, and went straight for it.

He doesn't see me. I'm too fast. Nobody can catch me. Not even God himself.

Aizen disappeared, and Shihoin ground to a halt.

The dying royal guardsmen fell to the ground. She spun around, searching desperately for some sign of her target. In her head, she counted the remaining seconds down vainly.

Three. Come on, come on! Where is he? Did he turn invisible, is he flying, teleported, _what? _Two. No, he's still here, I can feel that power-mass hasn't gone anywhere. It's almost like… No, it couldn't be.

One.

Yoruichi's eyes widened in horror.

He's moving around me. Moving so fast I can't even… see him.

Unbelievable.

Zero.

A hand clamped around her throat then, and she was lifted up to struggle in the air. Before her, the glowing skeletal mask shone its pale light upon her efforts with the tranquility of the moon.

"_**AH. HAS KUCHIKI CHOSEN FOR ME ALREADY? HOW DEVOTED HE IS."**_

_To be continued…_


	33. War in Heaven: What We Leave Behind

"YUMICHIKA!"

No. It couldn't be. That wasn't real, I didn't see that happen. He can't be…

You CAN'T!

Rukia threw herself against the walls that held her, screaming in outraged loss.

* * *

Hearing her cries, Uryū knew something bad had happened. But it was hard to concentrate on anything past the torture lighting up every nerve ending in his body with agony.

_[Don't pass out, you miserable vermin! Did you think it would be easy? Stay awake!]_

Zaraki had been convinced to add his power to the mix only when he saw that Schiffer was bound and couldn't fight anymore. Bad news for the Quincy. Holding all the energy from two extraordinary captains had hurt worse than anything conceivably should. But after that powerhouse had casually shoved his saber into the collection plate, everything Ishida thought he knew about pain went out the window. Crying didn't help, and he was determined not to scream.

I won't give him the satisfaction.

_[So much pain. I regret not being able to experience it with you, Quincy. But exceptions can be made, eh?]_

It would be so much better if that damn monster would just shut up. Or go away altogether. But Mayuri seemed determined to ride the crest of his torment to the end. Converted reiatsu burned through him like wildfire, his soul was crumbling from the strain of holding it all in. For mercy's sake, can't I _shoot _yet? What are you _waiting for?_

_[NO! I know what you're thinking about doing, boy! Not yet! Do you hear me? I will not have this technique and the opportunities it provides be wasted as a result of your inferior will! You will HOLD until we are certain of being able to kill him!]_

I won't beg. I won't. Mother help me, I won't give him the satisfaction, I will hold on!

Somebody. Please. Tell me when I can let go.

I think I'm dying.

* * *

Ichigo was snarling as he stabbed Zangetsu into Ulquiorra's chest. He didn't know who it was that had tried to chop the monster's head off, but the attempt clearly hadn't worked, so he focused on trying to reach the beast's heart and cut it out instead.

"Ichigo! Stop!"

I don't care what anybody says, I KNOW there's a heart in there somewhere! I'll rip it out and KILL you! Bat-winged freak, your life is OVER!

"STOP!"

A fist collided with his jaw hard enough to spin his head around. He staggered, and in that moment someone grabbed him by the collar of his robes and yanked him viciously away from what he had been attempting to do.

He could see Kūkaku running over to where Yumichika's body had fallen, while Ganju was draping the other fallen man over his shoulders. Ulquiorra was coughing up black blood, but even now it was clear the wounds that had been inflicted on his neck and chest were closing.

"LEMME GO!" Ichigo howled, swinging his sword around frantically.

As he did, the person pulling on his shirt spun him about and grabbed him by the neck, shaking him furiously.

"STOP YELLING!"

It was clear who this was supposed to look like. But that was insane. Another case of mistaken identity, like Mayuri wearing Rukia's skin. This was some other pod-person. That was the only explanation.

That just couldn't be his father standing there, wearing the black robes of a shinigami.

He felt stupid asking, but did it anyway. "Dad?"

"Hurry, dammit! We're running out of time!"

The carrot-topped brawler was too stunned to argue, and allowed himself to be pulled back down the hall, emerging once again into the room holding his compatriots at a dead run.

"Here!" Isshin Kurosaki shouted, bringing his son to a halt at an open space on the Quincy symbol glowing beneath their feet. The former captain grabbed his child's hands still holding Zangetsu, inverted it downwards and slammed the black blade into the charging station.

Looking up, eyes grim, he said in a quiet, careful voice, "Give your power to it. Like this."

So saying, he knelt and slapped his palms down on that conductive surface. Immediately the force of his soul flowed through, draining down and converting into a form the waiting Quincy could use.

Ichigo just stared.

I don't understand.

_You don't have to. He is your father. Just do as he does! We have to destroy that thing before it recovers!_

What's going on…?

_Hurry! He's going to attack again!_

But…

And then his eyes traveled across the room, and he found himself looking at Rukia. The real Rukia, crouched on her knees screaming and crying at what she had just seen.

This has to end.

And without any clear idea of what he was doing, remembering only a time in which he and Uryū had faced a _Menos _together in much the same way, he bore down on Zangetsu and unleashed the floodgates of his own barely-contained soul.

* * *

_[This is it! It's coming fast now, boy! We're almost to the point of certainty!]_

Shut up shut up I can't stand you make it stop make it stop I hate you for doing this to me.

_[Oh, no no no, not yet. Don't you dare let loose any of that energy before you're told! I want you to feel every last morsel, every iota of it! Can you feel this power, the strength you took upon yourself without any clear conception of what it meant? I trust you understand now what I meant that first time we met, when I warned you about crossing the LIMITS which a human soul can endure]_

I can't I can't do it I didn't know what it meant this is tearing me apart I'm in so much pain.

_[You never listened to me, boy. If you had, I could have told you so much. Did you never stop to wonder what it was that you were volunteering to have attached to you? I was hoping you would. It would have given me so much pleasure to tell you. But you couldn't even oblige me that much, could you?]_

Hurts it hurts just want it to end no more.

_[It will be over soon, Quincy. The same way as last time. With you dying, me living, and the person who connected us getting to hear about it. I had to make the Mimizu out of something, you understand. And since it was designed for use by a Quincy, what better material to use than a Quincy's soul? Lucky for me I still had one in storage. What was left of him, anyway. I had quite forgotten he was back there until you reminded me of it]_

Help.

_[Souken Ishida! That was his name. How very fortunate that I had a relative of yours at my disposal. It meant the chance of your body rejecting it once attached was very low. I realized then that everything had worked out beautifully for me. I test my creation, perform a service to the war effort, secure the future of my research funding, and take revenge on you, all in one fell swoop]_

Someone please help me I beg you.

_[I doubt you can appreciate all that I'm telling you at this point. But it's far too late for you to stop. I just want some portion of your brain to realize the extent of how badly you doomed yourself before it turns to jelly. From the very moment you dared to reproach me, and caused me injury, there was only one foreseeable outcome, and this is it]_

Please the pain please.

_[As soon as you release this attack, the pain feedback will increase a thousand-fold! The backlash will completely decimate your entire nervous system. That was part of its design. You will become a used-up lump of flesh. And I will take the time to examine your residual carcass before you are disposed of]_

_[So beg for mercy. All you like. Mercy has no place in a scientist's world. Only the results matter, whether failure or success, and what I can learn from them. Either way, we must continue on. For there is always something new to learn, Quincy. Whatever way I can]_

_

* * *

_

The sword was still lodged in his throat, and Ulquiorra could not raise his hands to extract it. His neck was still twisted at an uncomfortable angle as well. He resolved this by simply turning it back around to the proper position. The vertebrae snapped into place, reforming and healing. At the same time, the action served to nudge the blade lodged in his windpipe loose a little. His rejuvenation ability then took over the rest, forcing the weapon out as his body repaired itself. After a few seconds, it fell and hit the floor with a clang. He was completely healed.

They tried to kill me. But they could not. I am alive.

Ulquiorra made sure of this before turning his attention back to slaying them. He saw the shinigami down at the end of this tunnel. Milling about like little mice.

Death is coming for you all.

As he began to charge his _Cero _once more, it became clear that there was a considerable amount of power emanating from that one dressed in white. From the feel of things, those captains were transferring their individual energies over to him to form a weapon with the intent of killing Ulquiorra. And with that much already gathered, it was possible they really might succeed in doing so.

So before that happens, I must dispose of that Quincy human.

Having been disappointed by the last attempt with the spiky-haired captain, the _Cuarta _abruptly decided not to bother with a regular _Cero_, and instead let the power die out before sending his tongue out to lap up a smear of the blood that ran down from his eyes like tears.

For something of this magnitude, best to use the most powerful attack currently at my disposal. With my hands bound, I cannot perform _Cero Oscuras. _That leaves only one thing.

And the _vasto lorde _called upon his _Gran Rey Cero._

_

* * *

_

_[Hurry, damn you, hurry! He's almost recovered!]_

Save me. I beg you.

Please stop this pain.

Someone touched his shoulder then.

"I hear you," Nemu whispered as she wrapped her arms tight around the trembling teen's chest. "And accept."

Tiny needles extended from her fingertips, slipping through cloth and skin, into his nerves. And then his pain was hers to share.

It was like a plug in the drain of a bathtub was pulled, and that ferocious agony started to pour out of Ishida. The suddenness of it left him completely numb.

* * *

_[NEMU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?]_

_-My purpose. To bear pain in place of others. This is my choice-_

_[You DARE? You dare to defy me AGAIN?]_

_-My humblest apologies, Mayuri-sama-_

Mayuri's spectral presence tore through the link and wrapped ghostly hands around his daughter's throat.

_[You do not decide such a thing! I DO!]_

In spite of his insistence on authority, the transfer continued, and Nemu shuddered from the experience.

Meanwhile, in the physical plane, the body-swapped Mayuri had rushed over and grabbed Nemu by the arm, attempting to pry her off Ishida. The look of fury on that face let his lieutenant know exactly how much she had disappointed him.

But it was still my decision to do so.

When she continued to defy him, the gigai's lavender eyes narrowed.

_[So be it. You must die]_

Her tiny hand shot up, and Nemu knew he was reaching for the spot on her body that contained her termination decree, sealed in the center of her chest. But all the same, she did not attempt to resist.

She couldn't. Only for others could she deny him. Never for herself.

It was her way.

* * *

_[So be it. You must die]_

Ishida Uryū heard that threat in his head. He knew something terrible was about to happen to the woman who had rescued him, and everything he had ever learned, each decent moral thing he could ever lay claim to possessing, cried out at this injustice.

Acting on instinct, the human archer threw himself backwards, trying to interpose himself between them and act as her shield.

As he did, the sudden change in their position caused Mayuri's hand to touch not Nemu, but the Exalted Worm attached to Ishida's spine.

Something awoke at this contact, a soul rousing from sleep.

All three recognized what it was, for different reasons.

Can't be…

The Quincy test subject…?

_[YOU!]_

On a shriveled wreck that had once been Souken Ishida, the eyes snapped open, black and glistening with tears. Out of its wrinkled mouth burst an incredible scream. And it turned its head, looking down at the dark-haired woman holding it.

_TORTURE-PAIN-VENGEANCE-MONSTER-YOU!_

Then the revived ghost leapt into their shared minds, screaming in absolute fury at the one who had bestowed such indescribable anguish upon it for so long. The former human passed through its own grandson, then Nemu, and finally charged straight at their tormentor. It brought with it the entire lifetime of pain it had spent as his experimental research subject, and like a magnet, this cry attracted the torture that Nemu had sought to contain within herself, catching up the horrific entirety of it which had threatened to obliterate both her and Uryū and dragging it away to join with the rest.

This whole mass of torment and accusation then surged towards Mayuri, a tsunami in proportions, with him a lone man on a beach watching it rise far over his head.

_[You have no RIGHT!] _the captain howled at it, hanging in the bodiless space of their minds, brimming with his own poisonous conceit. [_I took all your pain as my own long before! You have no claim of wrongdoing, no authority over me! Your curse is meaningless, do you hear me? I AM BLAMELESS!]_

Then the agony wave swept over him, and the captain's cries were washed away in it.

"DAMMIT, ISHIDA, SHOOT ALREADY!"

Ichigo was screaming at him, and he realized they were about to die. Ishida snapped back to reality, aghast at what he had just gone through.

Black and green light started to flare at the end of the hall, then died out in favor of something much worse.

Blinking away tears, he saw straight ahead of him, through the row of shinigami captains offering him their strength, the grim target at which he was aiming. His body no longer felt as though it was about to burn away, but a doctor's son knew enough about medicine to realize that just because he couldn't feel it anymore didn't mean the danger was past.

How am I to know when to…

Nemu whispered in his ear. "Now."

Okay.

As fast as he could, Uryū raised his hand to grip the one already outstretched. Obeying his instructions, he drew back as though pulling a bowstring. The previously horizontal line on the floor before him bent back on itself, like its tips were being drawn towards the master magician on invisible lines until the whole thing bore the vague impression of a crossbow. All captains who had been standing upon it were swept to either side, cast away now that most of their energy was gone, until there was nothing standing between Ishida and his target.

Ulquiorra Schiffer.

The _Espada _was glowing, preparing to unleash his own attack. And Uryū realized he was completely exposed now. Fear came, and he wanted desperately to be the last man standing in this overpowering duel.

But somehow, he knew how things would end. Like watching an American western film and realizing which man would draw their gun first, he realized that the Hollow had built up its attack faster than him. No surprise. It had the edge. He needed a mountain of power to kill it, while Schiffer only had to pick up a relative rock.

A lance of gray light ten feet long appeared before him, energy swirling all around it. But some instinct let him know that he would never be able to fire in time.

Death was approaching. He saw it down there.

And to his surprise, Ishida also saw something else. Something he couldn't explain.

A death god.

Who is that?

Ulquiorra fired.

* * *

The presence was so strong she could no longer remain upright, and Sachiko was reduced to crawling.

She turned a corner, and found the corridor down which she was moving simply ended up ahead. Walls and floor looked like they had been burned away at some point, and now opened onto a clear area shining with light.

The girl emerged into that new-made bore shaft, and turning her head, she finally found what she had sought.

Standing there in the midst of that chaos was a creature made of black shadow and white marble. Both horrible and magnificent, it radiated murderous intent along with a reiatsu that terrified her with its size and familiarity.

I finally found you.

Unfortunately, all her hopes of warning her comrades or even being able to spit her defiance of this thing came to naught. She could not so much as move another inch towards it.

The creature didn't seem to have noticed her, far off to its side. It was just standing there, a glow dark as ink coming from its mouth. Those deadly eyes were fixed on a point far behind her. It didn't even know she was there.

I'm not important enough. It probably doesn't even realize… how much it hurt me.

"You took him away from me," Sachiko Fugunushi murmured in an accusing tone.

She then did the only thing she was capable of at this point.

She cast a spell.

The same one she had used countless times before, alone in her quarters where no one could see and laugh at her for it, 'til she was practically an expert at this magic. Calling up memories of the past and bringing them to life. But it was no form of solace she sought this time. Now the image in her mind was the last one she had of him alive and well. Filled with the desire to express her grief and recrimination towards this monstrosity, she let it go.

Look. Look at what you cost me.

"_Broken Mirror."_

_

* * *

_

At the very instant Ulquiorra let loose the deadly beam, he caught sight of someone on his left.

Impossible.

He told himself this. But still it did not go away as a result. There was absolutely no way to deny that standing there looking at him with living, accusing eyes was the shinigami lieutenant he had killed years past in the mortal world. The one Aizen had tasked him with destroying as a test of his power. It had been a meaningless assignment, but all the same, this was the first shinigami he had ever slain as a _vasto lorde_, and so he could not help but take an interest in it. He had ascertained the spirit's power while it stood there gaping at him, and then proceeded to tear it apart. The fight was over in a second. There was no need to stay and wait for the last flicker of life to fade, he had already lost interest. Instead Ulquiorra went back to Hueco Mundo to inform his new master that the mission was a success. The man was dead.

He looked exactly as Ulquiorra remembered the first time he saw him. But still he hung there, watching the _Espada_, his arms outstretched and reaching forth as if to embrace him.

No. It can't be.

I killed you.

The shinigami, death gods, Ichigo Kurosaki, they die, all of them, but they won't stay dead.

I am Death. And they…

They won't…

… STAY…

DEAD.

His reason finally broke.

_WHY WON'T THEY DIE?_

And now there were no words left in his head, no sense of self-preservation or foresight to motivate Ulquiorra. Just a red haze of panic and crazed murder that turned around one specific desire, and that was to slay the ghosts of his past.

So even as the _Cero_ left his mouth, his head was turning, faster than anything. Forgetting the group of people at the end of the hall intent on killing him, he directed all that firepower at the man who hovered there mocking him with that impossible face.

Ulquiorra fired, and the ghost disappeared.

* * *

The beam went roaring by them, decimating everything in its path. Fully half the building in which they stood was blown away.

He missed.

Mother of mercy, the bastard _missed!_

And as that raging black river continued to flow past, the giant quarrel before him flared with a power that shocked the Quincy.

I've got him.

Ishida's spirit quaked from the force he was channeling through it. And suddenly the beating of his own heart left him with no doubt that he wasn't dead, that the tide of battle had changed, it was his time to fight! Not my death! _Yours! _Your time has come! Inhuman monster! Beast! _Hollow!_ You deserve no purification! You should just DIE!

In heaven's name, please let it die.

"_Heiliger Pfeil des Gottessohns," _he intoned the name of this attack to himself.

And he released the power.

The detonation that followed threw everyone else in the room off their feet. He felt it then; the feedback that Mayuri had promised, exploding through him. For a moment Ishida thought he would be carried away screaming to his death on the eruption of agony.

Then Nemu had caught it, and she in turn had her pain swallowed by Souken Ishida. All of it was poured into Mayuri Kurotsuchi's gigai as his spirit struggled with his old experiment. The spiked helmet atop that false Rukia's head flared and exploded. Her previous screams reached a shrill wail of absolute panic and desolation. The body erupted into gray flames that quickly erased all trace of the person it was meant to look like. It collapsed to the floor, leaving only a blank unmarked marionette of a gigai.

Meanwhile, the Holy Arrow of God's Son sped free without a sound, silent as a winter morning.

* * *

Power raged from his mouth, and Ulquiorra howled with it.

Abruptly something exploded down the hall at him, the shockwave obliterating the passage in its wake and sending everything bursting away in splinters.

The _vasto lorde's _head turned as a lance of raw twisting cosmic force came straight towards his chest.

His cat-like eyes widened. There was no time for anything else, not to speak or cry out at the impossibility of it all.

All that remained was death.

The arrow of heaven struck the prince of hell right below his Hollow hole. It flooded into him, like water being sucked into a sponge. The _Cuarta Espada_ felt himself swell with the power that it now contained. Light poured from his open mouth, followed by his eyes. The world seemed to shake all around him, and then his whole body was transformed into a blazing candle of light and destructive force.

The coils of Gleipnir dropped away from him, sliding through his form like smoke. They were meant to cage a spirit, not this outpouring of power that erased any trace of being. Amazingly, it still bore the outline of what it had once been. The horns came up, its arms slowly spread outward, and those prodigious glowing gray wings unfurled to their full extent. Almost as though Ulquiorra Schiffer was still fighting to live like this; pure energy in the shape of a hell-spawned demon.

But then the arrow emerged from out of his back. Still piercing him, it shot off into the distance, pulling the creature dangling along its length with it. In the blink of an eye, they were both gone.

Seconds passed.

Then beyond the very limits of sight, an explosion occurred. Up from it came the shape of something that looked to be a tremendous cross, rising to piece the sky.

Virtually nothing was left of the First Division offices but the ground they stood on. The captains were lying where they had fallen, blown away by the Quincy's final attack. On his knees, Ishida Uryū watched this holy symbol rise into the darkened sky. He thought about praying, and then decided it made much more sense to simply pass out.

The last thing he knew before darkness claimed him was the sound of a woman's scream.

* * *

Lifting her up, the divine being studied Yoruichi closely, then chuckled.

"_**MY, BUT YOU LOOK FEROCIOUS RIGHT NOW, YORUICHI-SAN. ENDEARINGLY SO." **_

He reached out and plucked the golden crown of feathers off her head, and Yoruichi's heart sank.

"_**I SEE YOU DUG UP YOUR ZANPAKUTŌ FROM WHEREVER YOU HAD IT HIDDEN. WHO KEPT IT FOR YOU ALL THESE YEARS, I WONDER? PERHAPS YOUR FATHER'S BROTHER, LIEUTENANT SASAKIBE? I ALWAYS KNEW TO KEEP AN EYE ON THAT ONE. MUCH TOO DEVIOUS BEHIND THAT STIFF FACE YAMAMOTO HAD HIM WEAR."**_

She did not speak or make any move to attack him, even though her jade warhammer was still clutched securely in her trembling grip.

"_**AH, BUT THIS TRULY IS A MAGNIFICENT ALLY YOU HAVE. TEZCAT, A COMPOSITE ZANPAKUTŌ MADE UP OF TWO PARTS. THERE IS THE CLUB, THE ATTACKING COMPONENT WHICH IS ABLE TO WITHSTAND ANY BLOW NO MATTER HOW POWERFUL. BUT THE TRUE SECRET OF ITS STRENGTH IS IN WHAT I HOLD IN MY HAND."**_

Aizen held aloft the golden helmet and turned it back and forth, as though admiring his triple reflection in its sides. The sight of those leering skulls was even more disturbing warped in that manner.

"_**THE HEADRESS IS WHAT ALLOWS YOU TO MAKE YOUR BODY INSUBSTANTIAL, IS IT NOT? I WATCHED YOU ON THOSE RARE OCCASIONS WHEN YOU FELT COMPELLED TO USE IT, AND LEARNED SOMETHING ABOUT ITS NATURE, YOU SEE. YOU CAN TRANSFORM INTO AN INCORPOREAL ENTITY IMMUNE TO ANY INJURY. BUT ONLY FOR FIVE SECONDS AT MOST, I BELIEVE. AFTER THAT I JUDGED YOU TO REQUIRE AT LEAST TWENTY SECONDS BEFORE IT COULD BE USED AGAIN. STILL, WHEN APPLIED PROPERLY, THESE TWO TOOLS COULD ENABLE YOU TO BRING DOWN ANY NUMBER OF OPPONENTS, AS BARRAGAN RECENTLY LEARNED."**_

And then he tossed the magic cap aside, letting it fall to earth a few paces off.

"_**BUT HONESTLY, LADY SHIHOIN, DID YOU THINK THEY WOULD BE ENOUGH TO DETER ME?"**_

A colossal blast of yellow energy streaked in from somewhere in the fighting around them, but Sōsuke simply raised a hand, and the beam diverted and went roaring off to explode in the midst of the conflict, sending rats and men soaring through the air.

He's enjoying this so much, Yoruichi thought to herself. Finally getting everything he wants.

Still not close enough, it seems. I wonder if I can manage to…

"_**NO, OF COURSE NOT. YOU AND KISUKE HAD SOMETHING ELSE IN MIND, I IMAGINE. AND WHAT HAVE WE HERE? WHAT ARE YOU HOLDING IN YOUR OTHER HAND, MY DEAR?"**_

Before she could react, he had reached down and swiftly plucked the small orb in her palm loose. The masked madman held it up to the light as though admiring a diamond.

"_**I IMAGINE THIS IS NOT NEARLY AS INNOCCUOUS AS IT SEEMS. DEFINITELY URAHARA'S WORK, I CAN PRACTICALLY SMELL HIM ON IT. ITS PROPERTIES ELUDE ME, THOUGH. A BOMB? A POISON? WERE I TO CRUSH IT IN MY FIST, WOULD WE BOTH REGRET IT? THERE CERTAINLY DOESN'T APPEAR TO BE ANY DANGER, THOUGH." **_

And that sickly grin turned on her, all three jaws actually parting slightly when he laughed. _**"AND YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT FIRST IMPRESSIONS."**_

Her face gave away nothing as she continued to stare down the ghastly deity. Aizen didn't seem to mind. Probably been dreaming about having me at his mercy for ages. Maybe a little egotistical of me to think it, but he is a megalomaniac.

"_**I WONDER IF MAYBE YOU SEEK TO TRICK ME. GET MY ATTENTION FOCUSED ON THIS TRIFLE AND THEN UNLEASH YOUR REAL ATTACK."**_

Not to mention damn clever.

"_**AH, IT SEEMS I HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD." **_

And with that, he chucked the pebble far off into the distance. Yoruichi watched it sail away. No doubt it hit some poor royal bodyguard right on the head and killed him, just as Aizen intended.

Well, that's one option down the drain.

"_**SPEAKING OF WHICH, I SPY SOMETHING ELSE IN YOUR HAIR, LADY SHIHOIN. WHAT COULD IT BE, I WONDER?"**_

And at that, the feral female finally spoke.

"It is my coronation gift to you, Lord Takuiyoku."

In those empty eye-sockets, yellow light suddenly gleamed. But unlike most Hollows, these eyes actually had pupils. Which was a minor thing to note, but still somehow quite off-putting at the same time. Like a reminder that this man could no longer be classified as one thing, but more a bridge between species, as it were.

"_**HAVE A CARE WITH HOW YOU USE THAT TITLE, WOMAN. DO NOT FORGET THAT YOUR FAMILY TOOK PART IN THE MASSACRE THAT COST ME MINE. EVEN IF YOU WERE NOT PERSONALLY INVOLVED IN THAT TRAVESTY, THE BLAME STILL TAINTS YOUR NAME."**_

"Maybe my family was mistaken in killing yours," she replied back with a confident smirk that was belied by her trembling. "But as far as I'm concerned, the real crime was in letting one of you escape, Takuiyoku. And I intend to correct that oversight."

He didn't respond this time. Instead, Aizen grasped the Key tied in her hair. Giving a sharp and rather childish yank of the purple hair, he watched her wince slightly in pain as he pulled that object loose. The monster rubbed those golden prongs between his fingers in a casual inspection. Catching her eye, he then brought it up to run teasingly beneath her jaw in a soft caress.

"_**I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS. QUITE THE RARE AND UNUSUAL HAIR ORNAMENT, WOULDN'T YOU SAY? ARE YOU TRYING TO CATCH MY EYE, GOOD LADY?"**_

"As I said," she whispered back, never taking her eyes away from him, "It is our gift to the new King."

Aizen paused. _**"AH."**_

Then he leaned in closer, and she could swear that fleshless face smiled at her.

"_**AND WHAT OF A WEDDING GIFT, MY SWEET SHIHOIN-SAN?"**_

In response she swung Tezcat up and cracked him soundly in the jaw.

Not so much as a chip in the bone. He caught her wrist and bent it painfully until she let the zanpakutō drop with a gasp.

"_**I ASSUMED I WOULD HAVE TO BREAK YOUR ARM TO MAKE YOU LET GO. NOT QUITE THE STERN STUFF THAT NOBLES ARE MEANT TO BE MADE OF, ARE YOU? I CONFESS TO BEING SOMEWHAT DISAPPOINTED IN THIS ENTIRE CHARADE, AND WEARY OF IT AS WELL. THERE IS STILL MUCH FOR ME TO ACCOMPLISH ERE VICTORY IS TRULY MINE. I HAVE NO DESIRE TO PLAY WITH YOU ANY FURTHER, LITTLE GIRL."**_

As he spoke, his gaze roamed up and down her naked body. And by his voice when he spoke next she knew he was smiling now without a doubt.

"_**BUT BEFORE I PUT YOU IN YOUR CAT BOX, PERMIT ME TO GIVE YOU A TASTE OF YOUR FUTURE IN MY EMPIRE."**_

Still holding her dangling like a fish on a line, Aizen pulled the fleet-footed goddess closer to him until their bodies were only a small space apart. The jaws of his glowing mask opened slightly, and within the blackness she could see another set of teeth smirking playfully.

In response to this clear intent, Yoruichi's face grew cold.

"Try it, and I swear I'll make you regret it, Takuiyoku."

It was a challenge. To his authority, his divinity, and ultimately, his very existence as a man.

And Aizen picked up the gauntlet. The ambitious soul leaned in slowly and brought their faces together, soft brown lips coming close to the opening in his pearlescent helm. Their eyes met, flashing gold to yellow sickness, and the desire she felt coming off from him turned Yoruichi's stomach.

At the same time, though, her heart was pounding with excitement.

She had known he wouldn't be able to resist. He had put on a fair face for too long to ever deny his own wishes once the mask of graciousness had been discarded.

Almost there.

As he drew her in for the kiss, Aizen's free hand dropped to his side, still holding the Key.

At that moment, a small bolt of blue lightning shot from his coat and struck the golden ornament.

"_**WHAT'S THIS?" **_

His head turned.

Oh no, you don't.

And with that, she reached out her free hand, grasped hold of his collar and yanked herself forward.

Her mouth went into that open gullet, and she felt the brush of Aizen Sōsuke's slender lips.

When she did, Yoruichi promptly vomited.

The burning liquid gushed out of her mouth and into his own. Sōsuke coughed and gagged.

"_**YOU…!"**_

The green light of a _Cero _burned in his jaws. She screamed then, as loud as she possibly could.

Yoruichi Shihoin screamed out the words that the aging Ginrei Kuchiki had gasped painfully into her ear. A spell, which had been whispered to him for decades by a duplicitous and hateful woman, so often that he had memorized the incantation by heart.

It was the activation charm for the kidō-drink curse that had rendered him a weakened, drowsy old invalid, the same one she had just force-fed to Aizen.

The binary spell required the target to have ingested the catalyst charm beforehand. Since Yoruichi had not done so, the curse had no effect on her whatsoever. But she guessed that Aizen had. Because this enchantment was crafted by the same person who had cast _Cloud Over Moon_ on him centuries ago, in order to keep the secret of their association hidden. And if the witch could be counted on to use the same catalyst for all her spells, then perhaps it would work for this one as well.

I hope so. Because otherwise, I'm dead.

She stared into the glowing pit that spelled her doom.

And Yoruichi did not die.

Instead, the light of the _Cero _faded. The hold on her neck loosened.

Overhead, the small moon that crowned his head winked out. And then Sōsuke Takuiyoku was falling away from her, collapsing onto the ground in a flurry of white cloth. His Hollow mask broke into sparkling fragments, revealing his pale, sleeping face to the world.

Yoruichi made a graceful landing. Snatching up Tescat's club, she raced over to his body, searching for the Key where it had fallen. Her keen eyes spied it, glowing with an aquamarine radiance, converting even as she looked on. Bending to grasp the artifact, the noblewoman grinned in amazement. Damn me, but it's working! Urahara, you crazy bastard, you really pulled it off!

She then looked over at where the aspiring ruler of heaven lay unconscious, dead to the world. Her zanpakutō was warm and whispering hot-blooded commands in her soul.

_He's helpless. Do it! Kill him!_

That wasn't part of the plan.

_What's stopping you? _

To be honest, I don't know if he can be killed by the likes of me.

_One way to find out. _

This conclave was interrupted when what felt like a freight-train slammed into her back.

Yoruichi landed on all fours, noticing that several ribs were broken. The matter had been decided for her. Without looking back, she staggered up and raced away from the sight of her victory, back the way she came. Adrenaline kept her from feeling further pain. Lighting and fire exploded in pursuit, walls sprang up before her, but she was simply too fast for them. In moments the Goddess of Flash was back in the press of war, lost to the eyes of all.

* * *

Unohana rushed up to Aizen's side, stunned by what she had witnessed and even more so by what she was feeling coming off him.

My spell. _My _spell! The curse I used on Ginrei, the one I put so much power into to keep him from ever recovering from it! That… _witch _fed him _my own curse!_

But he was alive. She hadn't tried to kill him. Which meant that Yoruichi had been aiming for something other than Sōsuke's death. What?

I'll know when I ask her.

Dropping to her knees, Unohana withdrew a specific flask from within the pockets of her robe. Lifting that beautiful head carefully, she placed the bottle to his lips and tilted the liquid in, letting him drink the antidote. He moaned fitfully but did not wake. No, the power of the spell will keep him sleeping for several minutes, maybe even up to half-an-hour. Anything could happen in that time. He must be protected until he recovers.

And taking a deep breath, Unohana placed every single barrier she could possibly think of around her slumbering champion.

"**Unohana-sama!"**

It was Tosen running up. He must have sensed his lord falling. Good. The knight will do his duty, and I will see to mine.

"**What happened to Aizen-sama?" **her ally gasped in bewilderment as he drew abreast of them.

Rising, Unohana fixed him with a look that would have scorched steel. The serpent-masked warrior drew back apace in the face of her obvious fury.

"Guard Sōsuke until he wakes," she commanded him. "Let no one near him but me. I will return shortly."

Retsu didn't wait to hear his subservient response. Instead she called Minazuzenshou over to her. When the dragon arrived, the sorceress climbed up on its back, solid only for its mistress. Her transport then spread its wings and exploded into the sky, traveling at great speeds towards the place she commanded.

I know where you are going, woman. There is only one way you can escape from this dimension. I will follow you there, and bring an end to your scheme, whatever it may prove to be.

I am done being gentle with people.

* * *

Yoruichi fled the war in heaven as fast as she possibly could. How ironic it would be, if I were to die from some random attack now, after what I just pulled off. I should be dead. There's just no way that should have happened.

But since it did, I can't die yet. Not yet. I have to make every second count.

The rat army was much thinner than it had been before. Either she had done more damage to that Hollow than previously thought, or the King's forces were finally starting to prove their mettle. Let them all battle bravely, then. That no longer matters. What's important is what I have in my hand.

Before long all the fighting was far behind her. Ahead Yoruichi spied the gate she had entered through. It was still open, and standing in front of it now was a small figure.

Ururu dashed forward as her mistress ground to a halt panting. Without a moment's hesitation, Yoruichi tossed the vibrating Key over to the child. She caught it, then looked at her anxiously.

"GO!" the woman cried.

That woebegone little face set into a look of grim determination, and she turned back towards the dimensional rift. About to step forward, she hesitated, casting a mournful look in the captain's direction. Then she opened her mouth and said, "Jinta just told me. No one came through. And they're still alive."

Momentarily confused, Yoruichi suddenly realized what those words meant. Along with it came an indescribable relief. With a smile of gratitude, she then turned away.

"Don't stop 'til you're through, no matter what you hear behind you."

A nod of her pigtails, and the tiny golem then scampered out of Nirvana, heading back towards Soul Society bearing their salvation.

Looking back at the horizon, Yoruichi felt what was coming well before she saw it. This far removed from the war zone it would have been hard to miss the tremendous soul making its way towards her.

I was kind of hoping it would be Tosen. But I guess she's really pissed at me. Can't blame the witch, now can we?

_You're just lucky to have me as your backup._

I couldn't agree more.

And taking a firm grip on the weapon that was the embodiment of her soul, Shihoin Yoruichi closed her eyes and mouthed the words. "Ban-kai. _Tezcatlipoca!"_

With a gasp of relief, the zanpakutō started to glow. It floated free from her hand, altering in radiance and size. Heat started to pour off it with such intensity that the bloody earth began to smoke and the corpses smoldered before bursting into flames. In less than a handful of seconds, there hovered over the cat goddess a flaring ball of molten gold big as a house. It was a miniature sun, flames flickering all around the perimeter like burning whips. Beads of scalding ore dripped down off it and set ablaze anything they touched. But when they struck Yoruichi, the gold did no harm, instead flowing swiftly over her skin, thinning and spreading out. Soon her entire body from her toes to the tips of her hair was filmed by a thin layer of malleable metal.

Opening her eyes, the golden Amazon looked to the dragon approaching her at breakneck speed. Faster than I might have wished. I was hoping to meet her somewhere in between here, maybe keep her from figuring it all out. But this will have to do.

I have to keep her occupied for as long as it takes.

"_Jaguar Malévolo,"_ she breathed. Immediately from out of the star that orbited overhead something burst forth with a snarl. It was a great cat, formed from liquid gold with eyes and teeth of flame. This beast was soon joined by several others, and all of them streaked skywards to intercept the red dragon bearing down upon them.

A kidō spell that might have been Raikōhō erupted across the peaceful heavens. It was hard to tell considering how absolutely huge it was, but the detonation of thunder and flash of lightning certainly bore a resemblance to what Yoruichi recognized as being the sixty-third Hadō. The effect this had was to obliterate any semblance of shape her conjured minions had possessed, leaving them mere splashes of fluid that spattered to the ground in fiery droplets.

Then Minazuzenshou had settled to earth and was stampeding towards her position, its wielder visible on its back. With a strange certainty, Yoruichi felt the bond establish once more as that weeping head touched her heart. But there were no words this time, nor any real sharing. Apparently Unohana was not in the mood for further discussion.

Well, neither am I.

A tremendous beam flashed out of Tezcatlipoca and hurtled toward its nemesis. Three cones of fire, ice and sharpened steel met it halfway, creating an explosion that seemed strong enough to rip this dimension to pieces.

Neither side bothered to wait for this tumult to die down. The head of hunger snaked around and fired its ray. For all that it was light itself coming at her, Yoruichi moved aside as effortlessly as if the attack was slow syrup running down a tree. With her ban-kai activated, the title Goddess of Flash failed to do her justice. She could outrace time if she was so inclined. As such, her armored form vanished from the path of the assault and reappeared instantaneously a hundred meters away. More jaguars swept forth to prowl around that destructive monster. Minazuzenshou was screaming loud enough to cause pain to anyone who heard it. The sight made her heart race with fear and excitement.

Come on, you deceitful bitch, come and get me! I hurt your boy. A mother's rage is a terrible thing, and you've got so much hate in you just itching to burst out! Just try and catch me!

Six lethal sets of eyes turned upon her. Preparing to move out of range again, Yoruichi drew up short.

The ban-kai was still there, but Unohana was no longer riding it.

Her first instinct upon learning this was _danger! _Fearing a repeat like with Aizen, she ran again, zig-zagging around the area at top speed. Tezcatlipoca remained before the gate, being too large to affect such maneuvers. Like this, there was conceivably nothing that could even keep track of Yoruichi. She sent the pride of jaguars bounding towards the other legendary beast to keep it occupied all the same.

Where the hell _is _she? Did she cast a spell like _Curved Light _to hide herself? Is she underground, overhead? Dammit, _where _did she GO!

The dragon disappeared.

Yoruichi stared. An illusion? No, I felt it. I felt _her!_ But now I don't. They're both gone. Not here anymore. So if not here, then…

Oh, mercy.

She got by me.

And then the master shinobi was racing towards the portal, furious with herself. DAMN! I thought she wanted revenge, but that's not it! She wanted to find out what I was doing! Curse it all, I knew she wasn't an idiot, how could I have been so STUPID?

Shihoin tore back in the direction of the Door. Her ban-kai turned into one large jungle cat and crouched down before it. Retsu must have deactivated Minazuzenshou so it could get past easily. She was just waiting for me to try and lead her away, she knew I couldn't take her in a head-to-head battle and would move aside eventually.

_We can't let her reach the other end!_

We won't!

Both master and sword then dove together into the vortex.

_Watch out. This could be a trap._

_[I knew your heart, girl. So I knew what you feared]_

The ancient beauty stood right before them, hanging in the middle of empty space.

Minazuzenshou dropped down at their backs.

_[The rest was easy]_

_

* * *

_

The battlefield within the walls of Seireitei had not managed to proceed any further than the space before the breached gate. Held back by the combined power of Jidanbō, the CY-9000 and Ikkaku in his ban-kai, the enemy force was unable to advance.

But now they were drained. Yamada had almost run out of spiritual energy for ammunition, and Madarame's gargantuan battle-blades were lying cracked and in pieces around him.

Before them, the slug-like enemy leader wept a thick yellow pus from all its wounds, but continued to live. Wonderweiss thrashed its bulk about and slobbered that single intelligible war cry. "YOG-SOTHOTH!"

Leaning on the last solid remnant of Ryūmon Hōzukimaru, the bleeding veteran from the Eleventh tried to catch his breath. He glanced over at his partners and flashed a grin worthy of his captain.

"What do you say?" he panted. "One last charge?"

The giant hefted his axes and glowered at their opponent. "Maybe Ichimaru was right. A guardian should die before allowing anyone to defeat him."

"All available reserves charging for Gut Cannon," Cyborg Yamada responded in clipped tones. The barrel of the bazooka in his belly started to glow red.

"All right." Ikkaku turned back to the bug-eyed horror before them and hoisted his weapon onto his shoulder. "If we win this, we go down in history, boys! They'll be calling us the Three Heavenly Warriors or something like that! And if we lose, well…"

"I won't lose. Not this time." Ikkanzaka slipped off his tattered tunic, baring his broad chest and breathing deeply, seeming to swell even larger in the process.

"Affirmative," was Yamada's response.

"Well, then, fellow shinigami," Ikkaku mused. "Nothing left to discuss."

The trio of warriors faced off against the monstrosity. A strong wind blew across the scene, causing robes to flap and hair to rustle.

And Hōzukimaru swung up into the air, sending out a keening wail.

"Let's DIG IN!"

Bellowing their war cries, Ikkaku and Jidanbō raced forward, their heels pounding the pavement such that the ground seemed to quake at each footfall. Behind them, Yamada remained in the same position, the glow in his stomach turned into a raging scarlet ball of power. Wonderweiss Margera reared up to meet their charge, a mouth the size of a barn door opening to reveal the start of a _Cero. _

"YOG-SOTHOOOOOTH!"

Undeterred, the heroes charged on, shouting out their defiance of the enemy.

_You got this one, Ikkaku._

Hell, yeah. I am a bad-ass.

Heedless of death, the shinigami made his final charge.

He was feeling really good about himself, when something heavy landed right on top of his bald pate.

"Oopsie-daisy!"

The thing then sprang off, knocking Ikkaku down sprawling in the process. From this position, he heard a high-pitched voice shout above the tumult.

"Pounce, _Neko-Neko!"_

Wonderweiss's great googly eyes turned up at the tiny black-robed form flying high overhead. A shadow fell over him.

"YOG…SOTHOTH?"

This utterance proved to be his last, as from out of nowhere, something huge dropped down and landed right on the front of his body, squashing that repulsive visage beneath its supremely heavy form. Warm pus shot out and splattered everywhere as the _arrancar's _head was crushed flat with the sound of an inflated bladder exploding. The multitude of limbs along its body twitched and flailed about for a few moments, then dropped down to lie still.

Unable to check his momentum, Jidanbō slammed face-first into that obstruction and fell back heavily. Blinking in surprise and dripping with goo, he found himself looking up at a statue of a giant white cat. It was sitting on its haunches with one paw raised in a beckoning gesture, a smile on its face and a bell around its neck. Its other paw cradled a ten-million ryō gold piece.

As he sat gaping in stupefied disbelief, a small pink-haired head popped up at the top of that statue.

"Hi, Q-Ball!"

Struggling to lift his eyes, Ikkaku finally managed to do so. High above him, Yachiru Kusajishi waved in giddy triumph.

Her weary subordinate raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey, fukutaichou."

Then he passed out.

Farther back, the CY-9000 let its energy blast fade.

"Target terminated," he pronounced matter-of-factly. "Switching now to secondary directive. Attend to injured comrades."

Every metallic component then shot back into his body at once, and Hanataro Yamada stood perplexed.

"Ummm… what just happened?"

The defeated worm Hollow was already dissolving away, purified. When he caught sight of the two fallen shinigami, his training took over, and he sprang forward with a yelp.

"Don't worry, guys! I'll help you out!"

He proceeded to trip and fall flat on his face.

* * *

In the midst of the death match, both _arrancar _and the demi-Hollow felt a horrific power bearing down from the sky. Without question they all sprang away from that spot, putting as much distance between the area as their legs could manage.

Seconds later, the landscape exploded.

Accompanying this came a shockwave that did what no mere words could. It stopped the war in Soul Society. Struggling shinigami and howling Hollows were lifted up and tossed away before the brunt of that overpowering assault. Neliel planted Gamuza into the ground and braced herself against it with all four legs spread-eagled. Hihiō Zabimaru's functioning segments dropped down like a wall before her and Renji. The structure was buffeted relentlessly by that phenomenal detonation, so strong that it seemed capable of demolishing everything in sight.

The surge spread out to annihilate the antiquated Edo-era buildings that comprised the Rukongai and then collided with the great walls of the Seireitei. Blocks of death-stone absorbed as much as they could, and the rest went screaming around the barrier's perimeter, continuing to decimate every standing complex and sending the two armies scattering before it.

It went on and on, and back at the heart of the supernova, Abarai screamed in fury and defiance as he desperately strove to hold that pressure back.

Above them, there rose a tremendous cross high into the sky. This symbol stayed there for several seconds, blazing away for all to see. Those who had been inside the Court of Pure Souls beyond the reach of the aftershock stared in stunned disbelief by this display.

Eventually the tower of light began to shrink, fading even as the explosion that birthed it. Almost a minute later, it was finally gone for good.

Renji was the first to rise. His ban-kai had finally disappeared along with his Hollow mask, indicative of the massive burn-out he had suffered in the last hour. Zabimaru was now an ordinary katana in his hand. Staring down at it, a strong feeling of pride awoke in him.

You did good today, partner.

No answer came from the depleted weapon, but the lieutenant swore he could feel its approval of the praise. Just then Neliel cantered up by his side, still in her _resurrección._ She looked down at him speculatively.

"Can you still fight, Abarai-san?"

"Whether I can or not, I'm going on ahead to find out what that was. Care to come along?"

"Here." She reached down and hooked him under an arm, then proceeded to hoist the bleeding brawler up onto her broad back. "You look like hell. Let me at least give you a ride there. Hold on tight."

There was something just a little… awkward about this mode of transportation, but Renji had no chance to really refuse. Plus he was too exhausted to put up a fuss. Instead he wrapped his arms around the centaur's human waist and gritted his teeth as she galloped forward.

It was a surprisingly smooth ride for all that it was fast. He could see the remains of the opposing armies either lying prone in the dirt or coming shakily to their feet. No one had started fighting again, but that wouldn't last long. The shock would wear off soon, and then they would be back to killing each other. I wonder which side is winning? Speaking of which, how are all my friends doing?

"What do you suppose that blast was?" he mused as they tore onwards through the outer limits of the Rukongai.

"I couldn't begin to guess," was her answer. "I've never felt anything so powerful, and I've known _vasto lorde._"

"Maybe it means our side won the battle for Nirvana," her occupant suggested hopefully.

Nel made no response to his optimism, so the young spirit fell quiet. Eventually her tireless gait brought them into what looked to be the heart of that cataclysm. Smoke was still rising from the ground. Dismounting, Renji took up a wary pace at her side as they proceeded through the cloud cover. Soon enough they noticed a spot off where the residual heat seemed greatest. It caused ripples in the air, and after exchanging a glance they proceeded towards it.

As they moved closer the lieutenant's keen hearing picked out something coming towards them. Reaching up to touch Odelschvank's flank he pointed, and she nodded in agreement. The two of them separated a few paces while continuing forward.

After several seconds, they saw a shadow moving through the smoke up ahead. As the air began to clear, this shape grew more distinct, and they stopped where they were to wait and discern what it might be.

With a sweep of his arm, Grimmjow came through the wispy steam walking haltingly towards them. His other limb was hanging limply at his side and appeared broken. Their eyes met, and the panther-demon drew to a halt about thirty yards away.

Silently they watched one another in the middle of that desolation.

The heat faded, along with the distortions in vision. At last the smoke was gone, permitting them to see clearly.

Their collective attention was immediately drawn by a discoloration in the ground between them. Approaching this spot warily with one eye on it and the other reserved for the enemy, the trio studied this irregularity.

What it turned out to be was a light gray patch of dust in the precise outline of what looked to be a winged man's body.

Everything about this silhouette was so exact, down to the tail, the horns and even the hole in the hollow of its throat, that there really was no question about what they were looking at.

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes and hazarded to speak first.

"Is that… Ulquiorra?"

The dust did not stir at the name.

Renji and Neliel stared in disbelief right along with him.

"Is he dead?" the tattooed shinigami muttered.

A poke with Gamuza gained no reaction from the ash, and the former _Tercera _raised an eyebrow.

"If he isn't… he wishes he was."

"HAH!" Jeaguerjaques grinned and spit casually on the remains of his superior. "You aimed too high, Blackbird of Unhappiness."

All around them there was now movement. Hollows whether masked or not trundled over to gather behind their commander. In turn, lingering groups of shinigami took note of a Second seat and came to stand at his back, not daring to draw too close to the creature with the bone helm that accompanied him.

Renji looked over at Grimmjow, who did the same.

"What now, _Espada?"_

The _Sexta's _blue eyes narrowed beneath his bleeding scalp. He turned his head slightly to one side, then another, taking note of the force of fighters gathering in his wake.

His black claws flexed, and his tail flicked idly back and forth.

"Well, I'll tell you."

* * *

Yoruichi screamed in anger as she brought a wall of hot metal up to defend her. A blast of frigid breath turned her defenses brittle as glass, and one sweep of the dragon's claws rendered it broken.

Reiatsu platforms appeared, and she leapt from one to another. But having to create them was severely limiting her speed. In this space between dimensions, one had to tread carefully. They were moving towards the end of the tunnel, but not very fast, which was a relief. Having to concentrate on fighting each other in here meant they weren't too preoccupied with exiting this place, which was precisely how Yoruichi liked it. Sadly, that seemed to be the only thing going her way.

Nowhere to move here, have to stay on course. I'm limited by the surroundings. If I stray from the route ahead, I'll be lost in oblivion! Dammit, she tricked me into coming here!

_[Following me was a mistake]_

Unohana stood a ways off, secure in her footing. Behind her, Tezcatlipoca grappled unsuccessfully with Minazuzenshou, which was seemingly unaffected by anything the molten cat could do to it.

_[You should have stayed away from this]_

As the mage spoke, she lifted a hand. All around them as they traveled through the void, further plates of solid reiatsu appeared, a diverse profusion of them. Before her opponent could wonder what all of this meant, Retsu gestured again, and a pale rod appeared in her grip.

_Watch out! Kidō spell!_

No incantation?

Apparently so, for Unohana flung the lance, which instantly split into a multitude of smaller glass lines.

_Hundred Steps Fence, _Yoruichi thought in amazement as she flung herself out of the path of this assault. She doesn't even have to speak them anymore. So this is Unohana at full ban-kai. It's incredible.

There were so many stepping stones already, but Yoruichi did not trust any of the ones her enemy had created. Unfortunately there was even less space now to craft her own. How much longer can this go on? I thought I had a chance of keeping her occupied until it was all over, but now I'm not so sure.

So. _This _is the person I chose to stand against.

I'm afraid. Of her.

But that's precisely why… I can't give up. She has to be stopped. And this is the only way.

Death is nothing to fear, compared to letting this horror have her way.

_[Give up. You're trapped]_

And at this, Yoruichi had to laugh.

"What is so funny, child?" Retsu whispered behind her.

Before she could finish the first word of that sentence Yoruichi had already made a panicked leap away. Unfortunately, this time she did not consider her trajectory, and found herself racing towards the boundary of this tunnel. Faced with the prospect of being cast out of all space and time, she twisted her golden body, creating a temporary support beneath her feet and launched herself backwards.

She stopped to find herself standing atop a space she had not conjured.

A sleeping kidō in the floor activated as soon as she touched it, and the Shihoin princess found her torso bound fast in glowing chains.

As she sought to break free, fingers like steel clamped around her throat and bore her struggling to the ground.

The stuff of this immaterial sub-dimension went soaring by overhead, looking further blurred and distorted to her squinting eyes. But there was no mistaking the cold, perfect face of the witch who held her effortlessly in one place.

Those lilac-blue eyes glowed, and to her horror, Yoruichi felt something invade her very essence. It broke the connection between her and Tezcatlipoca. With no time to even comprehend how something like this could happen, the golden armor vanished from her skin, and the full force of that grip at her neck was felt, choking her savagely. Yoruichi tried to fight back but failed, subdued through magic and sheer overpowering strength.

"Now," Retsu spoke softly. "You will tell me what your plan is, and leave nothing out."

The hold on her windpipe loosened to allow her to breathe and speak clearly. Stars danced before the brown-skinned beauty's eyes, and she gasped in a quick breath.

At that moment, the entire space they were in seemed to quake.

Unohana looked around them carefully. To her eyes, it appeared as though the corridor was shrinking, almost.

Turning her head to the white opening of this tunnel, she saw something bizarre.

It looked like it was… closing.

* * *

"It's done."

Upon hearing this voice break the stillness immediately following Ulquiorra's destruction, Ichigo turned to see someone he had not expected.

"Jinta?" he spluttered. _"Ururu? _What are you doing here?"

The pair of children looked over at him, then back to what they held between them. This appeared to be a golden disc that could fit into the palm of their hands.

While Ichigo watched, this small artifact floated up in the air. As it did, the coin began to grow in size, while at the same time splitting into four equal pie-shaped wedges. Strange runes could now be seen clearly embedded into the metal's surface. Soon these quadrants had grown large enough to cover half the room. They rose up towards the sky, where a storm continued to swirl around the opening to the dimensional corridor.

Once there, they began to glow even brighter. And slowly, the identical segments began to draw back together.

As they did, the dark clouds halted their movement. And then they changed course, going in the opposite direction, while at the same time seeming to be pulled back into their fount.

And the door to Nirvana began to shut.

Ichigo gaped up at what was happening, and then was alerted to the present by a cry from Rukia. Looking down, he saw her rise and stumble forward. Instinct spurred him to follow.

So intent was he upon her that he failed to catch sight of a black streak that zipped through the air and disappeared into the golden cavern overhead.

* * *

Ignoring this display, Rukia rose trembling. The barrier had given out at some point, whether overloaded or disappearing when its caster gave up all his energy. Orihime was beginning to stir and moan close by her in the first throes of returning wakefulness. Blankly she looked around the room in search of something, though what she could not recall.

And then she knew.

"YUMICHIKA-SAN!"

Her eyes turned and spotted him. Rukia dashed over to where Kūkaku cradled Ayasegawa's maimed body, frantically feeding flower petals into his mouth.

"Yumichika-san!"

The little death god dropped down beside him. One eye cracked open at her approach, and a small hint of purple flashed through. Ceasing to chew on his restorative plants, the handsome fighter quirked a slight smile.

"Hello, dear heart," he murmured in a weak, thready voice. "Glad you're… doing well."

He coughed and shuddered before apparently lapsing back into unconsciousness. Looking at him, Rukia was horrified at the full extent of the damage that had been done. Virtually everything on the right half of his torso was gone. She had a clear view of the bones and dissected organs rustling inside of him, and blood pumped out, continuing to pool around her knees. The skin on the right half of his face was seared and melted, and there was no more hair to be seen. No longer did colorful feathers wink back at her; his eyebrow was missing, and that eye was closed shut and weeping clear fluid. Blood trickled out of his mouth. She was honestly amazed to find him still conscious, much less breathing.

"He can't hold on," Kūkaku Shiba muttered as she placed another bunch of petals in his mouth. "These rose-buds of his are keeping him alive, but he's burning through them as fast as I feed them to him, and we're almost out." Her tired, angry face told Rukia the truth before she could say it. "He's dying."

Kuchiki stared at her, eyes wide with horror.

"He can't."

And she shook her head numbly.

"He can't. He's my…" and tears flowed fast down her cheeks. "He's my friend. I love him."

The one-armed woman only ducked her head, recognizing the pain that had once marred her own face whenever she looked in the mirror. She understood what this girl was going through, and cursed the fates that had made Rukia experience something like this for a second time.

"He can't die like this," the tiny maiden spoke, reaching up a hand to touch his fevered, charred features. He flinched as she did, and Rukia drew back, clutching her hand to her chest and looking at him unblinkingly. Ayasegawa looked terrible, something she had never thought possible. She realized then that her eyes had gone dry.

When she spoke next, Rukia's voice was hoarse with emotion.

"I won't let this happen!"

Not again. I am not going to watch another loved one perish needlessly. But how to stop it? I need a miracle.

And then she knew. It was so obvious.

"Orihime," she breathed in wonderment.

Her face lit up with hope. Snapping upright, she turned and raced back to where she had previously lain imprisoned.

"ORIHIME-SAN!"

As she ran, a body fell from the collapsing portal overhead and hit the floor.

* * *

The passage of reishi between the dimensions, which once had been even, now abruptly altered. Suddenly they could feel the flow in only one direction. It grew and grew as the formless turmoil on every side of them shrank inwards, the pressure against their spirit bodies increasing to noticeable and then uncomfortable levels. This sensation became stronger with every passing moment. It was as though a rising tide was pulling them away from Soul Society and towards Nirvana.

"What is that?" Unohana asked, turning back to study Yoruichi. There was wrath in every word she spoke. "What are you trying to do?"

The shape-shifter smirked. "You wanted paradise," she gasped. "So now you'll get it. Nothing more, and nothing less."

The femme fatale stared right back, apparently considering this. Her hair was blowing now as though in a gale. And then she gave a slow nod of confirmation.

"I see. You intend to shut the portal, but in a way that you believe will keep it closed permanently. There is but one door to Nirvana, after all, which can only be reached by passing through Soul Society. That is how the King wished it, so that he could be sure of controlling access into and out of his realm. You intended to bar us from ever returning to Soul Society once we had left it."

"Pretty much," her captive grinned cheekily up at the goddess.

"And you resolved to be trapped with us," Unohana bore on, passing slender fingers through her rich black hair as it whipped about ever more violently. "You remained behind to stop anyone who attempted to make it back through, even knowing that it would no doubt cost you your life."

"It's my life, crone. I can do what I want with it!"

Retsu made to rise off her then. As she did, long brown legs whipped up and wrapped around the woman's waist, bringing her back down with a slight exclamation. She looked at Yoruichi with surprise.

"You're not going anywhere," the Lady of Shihoin ground fiercely through gritted teeth. "This is my last wish: that you and your brood of monsters never threaten my people ever again. Before you take another step, you're gonna have to kill me, witch! There's _no other way!"_

At this, those sublime features twisted into a soft, pitying smile.

"Yes there is."

She raised her free hand and traced something in the air. Where her fingers passed, light flowed to form words that shone with magic. This symbol stayed hanging there, and when the supreme sorceress touched it with a finger, it moved with her hand, sinking down towards Yoruichi's face.

"I know all there is to know about our spirits. It was always my pride as a healer to claim this. So what I am going to do is rob you of your senses now. You will not hear, speak, smell, see or feel in any way. Your own body will not be able to respond to your wishes as a result, leaving you a broken puppet, unable to move a muscle."

Unohana spoke without any hint of menace, in a fashion made all the more hideous by its lightness of tone. That eerie mark continued to descend, and the purple-haired goddess could only stare in horror.

Her vanquisher sighed. "Sōsuke may yet father a dynasty upon you, Yoruichi Shihoin. But you will never even feel it. Consider that my last blessing."

Yoruichi saw that tranquil, heavenly face gazing down at her, and knew it would be the last sight she took away from this world. As much as she wanted to, she could not look away.

And then there was only red.

A splash of glowing crimson, which streaked through the air and hit Unohana right in the side of her head.

Like thick paint, this mass of violent scarlet splashed and spattered against the sorceress' face, covering up half of it momentarily, so that all Yoruichi could see was one wide blue eye and a mouth open in shock.

Then it stopped.

When the flow dissipated, Yoruichi finally realized something. It wasn't any liquid, but a torrent of small glowing objects. One of them fluttered down before her, and to her surprise, she found herself looking at what seemed to be a glowing red maple leaf.

I've seen something like this before.

Glancing up, her suspicions were confirmed upon finding that the right half of Retsu Unohana's face was criss-crossed with thin streaks of blood. For one split second they stared at one another.

Like this, it was easy to see that the woman's eye had been sliced into ruins.

And then she was arching backwards, screaming and clutching at her maimed head. Half her hair was missing, and the blood was flowing out freely now. Unohana fell off her perch and dropped down to land on another glass platform far below. Craning her head, Yoruichi saw the wretched creature flailing and kicking with both hands pressed to her face.

The mass of scarlet leaves came again, slicing through the bonds that held her. Someone came to stand beside her, and extended a hand.

"Come."

For half a heartbeat she could not fully believe who had come to her rescue.

Floating beside her, wearing the black robes of a shinigami, was Ginrei Kuchiki.

Reaching out, she accepted his hand, and he drew her up to her feet beside him. The spectral current against their bodies felt as though someone was shoving them violently now, and they both had to exert an amount of energy just to keep from being flung through this tunnel.

The old man's face was still wrinkled but now possessed of pride, anger, and strength. Completely unlike the misbegotten wreck she had spoken to months past.

"Ginrei-sama," she whispered.

"Hurry," he motioned back towards the opening to Soul Society along which a crystalline road now stretched between them. "Get out of here. I will hold her off."

"How…"

Before she could speak the rest, there was a terrific roar. Looking behind, they both saw Minazuzenshou coming towards them. At this, Ginrei shoved her roughly back. Yoruichi stumbled and found her balance, looking at this unexpected ally with stricken eyes.

"This is my penance for the crimes I took part in!" he shouted, his cloak of blood-red ban-kai surging around him in a manner so similar to that of his grandson. "I will answer for the sins of the previous generation! You go and guide the next one! GET OUT OF HERE!"

There was no arguing with him. She could see that. In his body was the strength of a legendary noble family, and on his face was the look of a man prepared to die.

And so the princess did as her elder commanded. She turned and raced for the safety of home, fighting against the ever-increasing force that sought to keep her from making any headway, hardly believing that there was any chance she could actually make it through safely.

An explosion from behind smashed into Yoruichi, sending her tumbling along, and she realized there was no way at all.

* * *

MY EYE! MY EYEEEEEEE!

Thrashing about, Unohana could not focus past the pain to repair the damage in the slightest. While the injury was not truly great, it had opened up other wounds she had thought safely healed. And these were of such age and strength that her power had never been enough to fully deal with them.

HE TOOK MY EYE! FILTHY LITTLE BRUTE, HE TOOK IT AWAY FROM ME! BEAT ME WITH HIS FISTS LIKE A WHORE AND LOOK! SEE WHAT HE DID, ALL OF YOU! DON'T PRAISE HIM HE'S A BEAST! LOOK! LOOK, DAMN YOU! CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT THAT EVIL MAN DID TO ME? LOOK WHAT **HE DID TO MEEE!**

Horror came at the realization of what was happening, enough to snap her back to reality. Her hands came down. Tearing at the front of her robes, she pulled them open, and that was when she saw it.

In the center of her chest, the black hole was beginning to open.

NO! NO! STAY DOWN! DON'T WAKE UP! NOT YET! I'M NOT READY! GET DOWN! I AM UNOHANA RETSU! I AM NOT A **BEAST**, I WILL NOT **PERMIT** MYSELF TO **BECOME ONE**! YOU CANNOT** DO THIS TO ME!**

The crescent moon began to move even as she tried to force it closed. This sign of her degradation slid up her skin, over her throat where she could no longer see it and up to her face.

But there was no hiding the feeling, as her heart started to collapse from hate and fear.

SŌSUKE MY **DEAREST CHILD** HELP **ME**! WHEREVER YOU **ARE COME TO ME **AND SAVE **ME YOUR LADY MOTHER NEEDS YOU**!

Even as the shinigami legend begged and pleaded for her champion to come to her rescue, the mark of the Hollow rose up across her bleeding cheek. It traveled higher, approaching the spot where her ruined eye remained shut in its socket.

It then flowed beneath her eyelid and disappeared.

The screaming in her soul increased to a fevered pitch.

The right eye of the goddess sprang open, and it was completely black with no light at all.

* * *

A torrent of titanic spirit power was pouring down from the Door. Everyone standing in it felt as though they were caught beneath a blazing hot waterfall of rancid poison.

Byakuya refused to submit to this acid reiatsu rain. He had recognized Yoruichi instantly when she fell through the portal, and now he strove to reach her. Weakened by the level of power he had given up to defeat the _vasto lorde_, it was slow going through that downpour. But at last he came upon her. Shihoin was sprawled unconscious on the floor, buffeted by that inexplicable storm. Her lover bent and grasped her arm, draping it around his shoulders and rising with her hanging loosely by his side.

To his relief, the golden gate was still continuing to shut, though not as quickly as before. It was almost like this miasma was clogging the gears of the spell that was working to stopper it. Hopefully whatever sickness this represented would not be able to make it through before it closed completely. Looking behind him, he saw Ichigo Kurosaki struggling to reach Orihime Inoue, who had been shocked fully awake but lay unable to move screaming under the deluge. Rukia was coming towards them as well. Both looked bone-weary, and without hesitation he moved forward to aid them in getting the helpless girl clear.

So intent was Byakuya upon the rescue, he did not see what came through the portal then.

But Rukia did.

* * *

She saw the blue winding coil emerge and go swiftly looping down in the direction of Byakuya and Yoruichi. There was no use shouting. Weighed down as he was, her brother would never be able to move in time.

So Rukia did the only thing possible. Racing forward, she leapt and shoved him as hard as she could. Byakuya staggered from the blow, falling to slide away.

Relief enveloped her heart, and then the threatening cord wound about her throat.

Gagging, she felt herself being lifted off the ground. Desperately the slender girl wrapped her hands around that tendril and strove to pull it down, permit her to breathe. Her feet brushed the stone and she willed herself to anchor there, keep from being drawn up into that dire opening.

Then Ichigo was beside her, flinging an arm around her body in a way that should have offered comfort but instead gave only horror. The additional weight of his heavier form served to stabilize her and prevent them from being yanked skyward, though it still felt as though her head might be pulled off at any second.

Cursing, Kurosaki raised his sword, which still retained the appearance of Tensa Zangetsu, and brought it down on the line that had snared her. To the disbelief of both, it bent but did not cut. Again and again he sought to hack the cord in half to no avail.

As he swung up his weapon for another desperate blow, a howl of inhuman proportions tore through the room.

Looking up, she saw the source of that call.

Hanging in the sky above them, seen through the closing portal, there came Retsu Unohana. Her white haori was missing, leaving only the black robes beneath. She was hanging off the other end of this conjured noose, clothes ragged and torn and hair flapping furiously as though a great wind was blowing against her. But in spite of this, she gave no ground. The captain was clawing her way hand over fist down the line, using Rukia as an anchor to pull herself slowly but surely along in the face of the force that strove to oppose her.

With each convulsive heave forward, they got a clearer picture of her. Her hair was in disarray, and her lips pulled back from her teeth in a rictus snarl. Worst of all, though, were her eyes. One of them was wide and blue and completely lucid, focused entirely forward with the determination of absolute calm certainty. Its mate, however, was solid black. Blood was pouring out of it to stain her ebony robes. There might have been an eye there, or simply an empty void. There was no way to be certain.

When she opened her mouth, there came no words, only a scream that was eerily familiar to every shinigami in the room, bearing a resemblance as it did to a Hollow's cry.

Ichigo was frantically attempting to sever the line which had caught her. A few seconds later Byakuya had come up to attempt the same, then Tōshirō, and even Zaraki. Isshin was rushing to retrieve his zanpakutō. Together they all sliced at the energy band. But though their swords caused it to shake, the sorcerous rope held firm. Not even a chip appeared in its surface.

The witch-queen was close to freedom now. Rukia realized that the unleashed power of this malevolent being was preventing the golden gates from coming together. And if she makes it through, then everyone here, perhaps all people everywhere… they would die.

I have to protect them.

As Ichigo continued his futile efforts, she reached up and touched his cheek. The boy (no, I'll never think of him that way again), the man looked at her with panic written large over his face.

There was too much noise to be heard clearly, so Rukia only mouthed the words.

Let me go.

He got it instantly. _Let me go_, she was telling him, _and you'll survive. I'm the only thing holding her here. If I go through the gate, she will too. That way you'll all be safe. You'll be safe, Ichigo._

He got it.

And he gave her his response.

A firm shake of the head said _No_.

Her face twisted at his refusal, and she screamed his name desperately. But that only strengthened his resolve. Because whether she knew it or not, this was the exact face she had worn when her brother had come to take her back to Soul Society. That same anguished, tear-filled look as she turned back to him humbled in the rain and demanded he not come after her or she would never forgive him.

The expression he returned to her was a gentle smile. His response came in a soft whisper. But still Rukia understood what he was telling her. Because this, too, was something familiar.

His lips formed the words.

All your opinions are rejected.

_I won't abandon you,_ he was telling her. _Wherever you go, I will follow. You'll never get rid of me, and I'll fight to defend you even if I die._

It was true. She knew that. He would never surrender, even in the face of death. Nothing she said would convince him otherwise. Ichigo Kurosaki was an arrogant, pig-headed dolt.

And still she loved him.

Another word formed on her lips. One word. That was all it took. It was one that meant so much to Rukia, embodying everything she had ever cherished or hoped for from the time that she was a small child living in fear in the Rukongai. It signified the end of solitude, the discovery of real joy, and a promise of aid whenever it was needed.

That word was…

Together.

_If you will not let me go, then we will go together._

Agreement was in the crinkle of his eyes as he smiled. They both looked up towards the awful fight that surely awaited them above. Weakened and depleted though they might be, neither of them felt fear at that moment. They were together. As long as that remained true, there was no pain that could not be borne.

With a final glance around at the people they loved, Rukia wrapped her arms around his neck, and with one swift bound he left the earth and went soaring upwards.

They heard the people below screaming in horror at their sacrifice, while the fallen mother-goddess shrieked as the line went slack and she began to fall backwards.

Ichigo raised Tensa Zangetsu and pointed it towards the ferocious witch-queen. At the same time, Rukia pulled Sode no Shirayuki from its scabbard, and at her command a blade of ice grew from its hilt.

White sword and black then aimed for the heart of the ancient evil that threatened their world, and they soared up to enter heaven.

Isane stopped them.

Before they could reach the gate, Lieutenant Kotetsu flew in from the side and brought her soul cutter down with a wail.

At Itegumo's touch, the blue band of unbreakable energy turned to glass. It shattered instantly, and then both man and woman were falling back to earth, while above them, the once-revered and beloved leader of the Gotei 13 flew backwards as though shot by a cannon. End over end Unohana spun, diminishing into the distance until she was just a speck of blackness.

The silver-haired lieutenant dropped to the ground. She fell to her knees clutching her sword, mouth agape and eyes shimmering with tears as she stared straight ahead.

"Go to heaven," Isane gasped, "and leave us alone."

A faint, frightful howl came from overhead, and she bowed forth, quaking with sobs.

Disbelieving, Ichigo and Rukia sat and stared upwards as the doors began to close smoothly once again. In seconds there was only a thin crack of light between the edges that told of the matchless paradise that lay beyond, and then even that began to diminish.

Something shot out of the gap just as the portals completely closed with a terrific boom. It hit the ground right in front of them and stood there, shuddering back and forth from the force of its landing.

All eyes stared aghast at the sight of the Japanese nodachi longsword embedded point-first in the stone. It seemed as though a low moan came from the blade, and then Minazuki fell silent and still.

* * *

They all looked around, questioning whether or not it was finally over. Byakuya was holding Yoruichi in his arms, having wrapped her in his snow-white haori. The Kenpachi had slumped down and was absently perusing the room as if in search of an enemy to slay. When his gaze lingered overlong on the weeping Isane, a glowering Captain Hitsugaya strode forward and planted himself firmly between them, expressing his support for the lieutenant no matter whom her captain might have been. Nemu had darted in and rescued Orihime during the preceding struggle and now stood securely at attention with both the insensate Ishida and a gasping Inoue at her feet. Isshin Kurosaki came over to stand by his son and adopted daughter. Crouching down, he clapped hands on their shoulders and gave them both a weary smile. Neither seemed certain of how to take his appearance, but managed nods in return as they held one another closely.

Rukia looked at Ichigo, then all around. He felt her stiffen beneath his touch.

Abruptly she was off and running to where Yumichika still lay.

"Bring Orihime!" she shouted over her shoulder, and he scrambled to obey the order instantly.

The girl slid to her knees beside the injured warrior, fearing the worst. To her immense relief, she could see his chest still rising and falling faintly. She had been close to hysterical at the thought that he might have died in the interval when they were achieving what appeared to be a final victory. But as though sensing her approach, his good eye flicked up to regard her, and a sad attempt at his former jovial smile appeared even as Kūkaku slipped one petal after another into his mouth. She had all the remaining ones in her hand, and the amount was terribly small. But Rukia deemed it would be enough.

Ayasegawa spoke then, and his voice came out slurred and thick with pain. "Be sure they get it right on my memorial. '_Defeated a vasto lorde single-handed'. _It's true," he grunted, glancing down at the place where his right arm had been, "in a strictly literal sense."

"Living men don't need memorials," she affirmed, tearing a strip of cloth from the hem of her white robe and wadding it up to pat his sweating forehead. "You're not going to die here!"

"That's awfully sweet of you, Rukia-chan, even if terribly unrealistic of you."

His words faded to a whisper, and for a moment her heart was racing with the fear that he was gone.

Then a glowing orange balm fell over his body as Orihime came rushing up them. Shiba moved over to give her space, and the girl dropped down beside him with a look of steely determination. Ayasegawa came awake. He looked at her and gave a rueful chuckle. "Ah, surrounded by lovely ladies. Those other poor saps who died out in the field would be terribly jealous to hear about this."

"Stop talking like you're going to die!" Rukia shouted angrily. "Look, see? You're healing as we speak!"

It was true. The shattered remains of his ribs were growing out and reconnecting as Inoue rejected the damage that had been done to them. Following close were his organs, bound up in a wall of firm flesh and muscle. As his arm began to take shape once more, the damage to his face cleared, and both eyes opened, though only a little. Even his clothes and the classic feathers in his eyebrows started to come back.

Wine-purple orbs turned to the Kuchiki princess once more, and there was an appearance of deadly seriousness to his handsome face.

"Say it again," he murmured.

She blinked and smiled, touching his restored cheek. "You're not going to die."

"No," and the dapper fighter gave a small shake of his head. "Not that. Say my name, just like you did when you saw me get hit. Say it without the honorific, the way you did only once before, after you punched me in the face." His gaze bore into her, and Rukia shivered at the expression he wore. "Say my name please, Lady Kuchiki."

Puzzled, Rukia stared at him, limned in a healing light. She didn't really know what had brought this on, but it certainly didn't seem like a big deal considering all that had just happened.

So with this in mind, she leaned in close and spoke slowly, drawing out the syllables, "Yumichika."

And he grinned so bright, just like old times.

"I told you," he murmured. "I told you on the day we fought in the bog. It didn't matter if I died, so long as the last thing I could see was something astonishingly beautiful." His left hand came up and touched her cheek gently, sliding over her skin. There was a glow in his features that bespoke of health and life. "My strong, sharp, beautiful little Rukia."

He drew his hand away then, the smile never leaving his lips.

Orihime's shell of magic faded, leaving Yumichika's body completely restored.

"I told you so," Rukia declared triumphantly.

He did not answer, only continued to stare back at her.

She scowled and reached out to tap his forehead, then stopped.

Rukia looked at him then. Really looked. His face was calm and beautiful, no longer marred by even the slightest hint of pain. And his eyes continued to gaze steadily ahead.

"Yumichika?" she asked, and touched him again.

There was no response.

Her hand fell away, and she shook her head disbelievingly.

"Yumichika… no."

Several beats of her heart passed, and nothing changed.

Her head snapped around, and she turned a wild look on Orihime. The beautiful girl stared right back, mouth agape and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "He didn't… I couldn't fix… something, I don't know what went wrong, the reiatsu was so heavy in his wounds, but still he just… slipped away."

Rukia stared.

"No," she said again. Shaking her head, she turned back to where he sat upright. "No, you can't be. You can't be d…"

She choked on the word, then lunged forward and grabbed his face in both hands.

"BREATHE!" she screamed. "FIGHT, DO YOU HEAR ME? What's the first rule? 'NEVER surrender', isn't that right? You're from the Eleventh, and the Eleventh never gives up, you never back down in a fight! Don't you DARE give up on this battle now! Because we… WE WON! But it… doesn't… matter…"

Rukia Kuchiki was crying so hard it hurt, and still her eyes searched for some sign of life. But there was nothing. Though completely restored in terms of his spirit body, the life that had animated Yumichika Ayasegawa was gone.

"… if you're not here… to see it…" she sobbed.

For a little while she continued to hold out hope for a breath, a word, anything to indicate that this was not what it appeared to be.

When nothing came, she slumped forward and buried her head against his chest.

The rules of nobility state that we are not permitted to show our grief.

So this is solid proof. I am no noble.

And with that, Rukia screamed out loud.

"NO!"

The word was raw and ragged, holding all the remorse her heart could contain. She was weeping furiously now, red-faced and shuddering to draw in air as only happens with the purest form of grief. Her fists knotted in the fabric of his shihakusho, and she pressed herself against the lifeless body, still warm to the touch. Gasping and sobbing without any attempt to hold back, the young woman twisted her head from side to side in denial, muttering over and over.

"No no… no… no nonono no…"

She then dragged her head upright and swaying off-balance, let loose a shriek of loss that made her previous one pale in comparison.

_"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"_

When her breath ran out, Rukia fell to crying once more, as her friends came to stand around the body of the fallen warrior. Kenpachi Zaraki shrugged out of his tattered white captain's robe and draped it over his Fifth seat's face.

"Died without a scratch on him, right to the end," he muttered, and shook his head. "I don't know how he always did it."

Then he turned away.

"Good fight, Yumichika."

* * *

After they had finally drawn Rukia away to grieve and Yoruichi was given into Inoue's care, Byakuya noticed Tōshirō Hitsugaya standing a ways off. Certain that his loved ones were being watched and his sister was not about to injure herself in any way, he went over to see what was happening.

As he drew closer, the Kuchiki lord noticed something lying on the ground before his young colleague's feet. Upon further scrutiny, he realized it was the body of a woman. She was small, dressed in a death god's shihakusho, and one leg appeared to be missing. Other than that, there was nothing of particular note about her.

"Do you know who this is?" he asked the white-haired boy.

"Yes," Tōshirō nodded. "She is… _was_ one of mine. The Fifth seat. Her name was Sachiko Fugunushi."

Byakuya looked around them. "A Fifth seat? What was she doing in a place like this?"

"I'm not sure."

With that, Hitsugaya removed the white haori that still decorated his shoulders. He knelt and covered the woman with it, staying hunched by her side. "But if today has shown us anything, it's that rank has nothing to do with what you can achieve."

Hitsugaya bowed his head then, his piercing green eyes full of sadness.

"There was a second back there when I thought Ulquiorra was going to kill us all, but then he fired at something else. I couldn't really see what, but… from what Matsumoto told me, there's only one thing I can think of that would have motivated this woman to come so far."

Then he rose to his full height once more. "I think she finally got what she needed. She got her revenge."

Byakuya nodded in understanding, of the concept if not the specifics. He gestured back behind them. "We must go. There is still a war being fought. The other shinigami must see that all is not lost."

The dour youth nodded, and joined his fellow captain in returning to their allies.

Both of them failed to notice that Tōshirō's shadow was a little darker than any others.

* * *

Tia Harribel swept lazily through the wreckage that had once been rats and men, her sea-dragon heads flicking their tongues while the lionesses growled testily.

The army of shinigami had taken flight twenty minutes past. Not being the swiftest when in her _Segunda Etapa_, she had decided to regress to her _resurrección_ state in order to cover more ground. As far as she could tell, the conflict appeared to be over for now. Their enemies had retreated in order to assess their current position and possibly plan for future engagements. There was no way to be certain, but she guessed that fully half of Zero Squad had met their end on this day, in no small part to her own efforts.

Feeling satiated as she could only be in a lesser form, she decided to eat the dead some other time. Instead Harribel went looking for her colleagues.

Half an hour later she caught scent of a familiar reiatsu. Following it, the _Tercera_ came upon a section of the battlefield that was piled high with smashed skeletal vermin and the disease-twisted bodies of their enemies. Best be careful about consuming those later, some of them might still have the plague. It was while she was considering this that something before her stirred.

Upon moving closer she realized that it was Barragan. The royal rat lay on a mound of bony parts. A great deal of his heads had been smashed or chopped off by the look of it, and several arms along with them. Nonetheless, he was still alive, which was more than could be said for the dead captains that were scattered all around him.

At her approach, the black-robed monarch lifted his prime snout. Blood leaked from his jaws and stained the earth. His empty eye-sockets fixed upon her, and the _Segunda_ croaked out a command.

"**Help… me…"**

His inferior in the _Espada _ranks came to a halt. Leaning over that huge form, the bronze giantess craned her head around and hummed pityingly.

"**Now!"**

At this, her pearly-white teeth bared in a hungry smile.

"Of course, Barragan-sama. I'll help."

Several of her dragon heads shot forth and clamped down on all his limbs. One grabbed his top skull's jaw in its own, twisting it about violently. Before he could react, Tia balled up her fist and brought it crashing down on the back of his head. The bone smashed in from the force of the blow.

"I'll help myself... to you."

The sea serpents brought him up to her, and without further ado, Tia Harribel then did what she had dreamed about since before becoming a _vasto lorde. _This was to sink her face into the hole in his skull and feast upon the swarming meat that lay within. The rest of her mouths went to work snapping up the rest of him, and Barragan Luisenbarn, King of Hueco Mundo, finally met his end.

Aizen might be upset. But Grimmjow had been right. Sometimes you just had to do what you wanted.

Afterwards she went back to her human-like sealed form and proceeded to make his bones into some very fine armor. Just because she could.

* * *

Aizen awoke.

The first thing he noticed was that there was no longer any noise of battle. Either a good sign or a bad one. To determine which, he then opened his eyes and stood up swiftly. Beside him, Tosen jumped in surprise.

"Aizen-sama! Are you well?"

He ignored the question. His servant had dropped his Hollow helm, so it was reasonable to deduce that they were not in any great danger at the moment. Other matters demanded a detailed explanation. "What happened?"

"We…" Kaname seemed uncomfortable now, clutching the hilt of his sword tightly. "We seem to have put the Zero captains to rout. They fled the field approximately twenty minutes past. None of the _vasto lorde _were killed and…"

"Tosen!" the leader of the revolution rounded on him sharply. "Do not tell me things I can already deduce for myself! I am asking what became of Yoruichi and…!"

He stopped then.

There was something a short distance behind him, what appeared to be a large bundle of white rags at first guess. But there was a certain shape to it that made him pause. This scene looked… familiar.

It was only then that he noticed something was missing. Snatching at his pockets, Sōsuke frantically checked them. After affirming that they were empty, he rounded on his comrade.

"_Where is the hōgyoku?"_

The blind samurai flinched and held up his hand. Nestled within it was the gem. Aizen reached for it.

"She…"

He paused, looking at Kaname questioningly, only to realize that the man couldn't see him doing so. "What?"

"She came back to us, and the enemy scattered! They did not dare to face her. I was… afraid of what she had become, I could see that a Hollow was taking root in her. When she lowered the barriers and approached you, I feared for your safety, my lord! So I snatched the hōgyoku from your robe and… used it on Lady Unohana."

Aizen stared.

"You… used it?"

"Yes. With my mask on, I had enough power, and it reacted sufficiently for me to…"

The dark-skinned servant then found himself hoisted off the ground by his throat. His sensitive ears ached at the roar that followed.

"YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW! You do not KNOW what you must DO! And you actually thought… that you could USE IT on HER?"

"For…" Tosen gasped. "Forgive… me…"

"_When_ did you use it?" Aizen demanded back.

"Perhaps… twelve minutes past."

The renegade shinigami flung his associate aside, then turned and walked over to the mass of white.

Inspecting it closely, he could make out what looked to be a human form on its knees with the arms extended out to either side and the head thrown back, as if screaming. The bandages he was used to seeing wound so tightly around it were a loose, slapped-on mess that made the whole thing appear larger than it really was. Upon further examination though, he was further chilled to see what looked to be blood leaking out in certain places from beneath the cloth.

Turning about, Aizen strode swiftly over to where the hōgyoku had fallen and bent to retrieve it. Perhaps it was not too late. If he could undo some of the damage that Tosen's inept handling had wrought, she might yet come out of this whole. He only needed time to concentrate and…

His fingers touched the gem, and a beam of light sprang up from it. The Hollow lord drew back, startled, upon seeing a roughly life-size image of a human being looking out at the world.

The hologram waved its fan graciously, and Kisuke Urahara smiled.

"Hello, Sōsuke Aizen! If you are seeing this now, then you must have already made your way to Nirvana. Congratulations! Nothing like taking a trip to new places, seeing the noteworthy sights, maybe meeting some beautiful and willing ladies while you're there. Eh, am I right?"

Both men were struck dumb, and the recording proceeded apace.

"By now you must have realized that I never intended to fight you directly. That would have been foolhardy on my part. Just another case of, 'Oh, what a huge explosion! Let's wait for the smoke to clear and… IMPOSSIBLE! The villain is unharmed!' And really, where's the fun in that? No, whether it has triumphed or failed at this point, the plan I hit upon was to give you exactly what you wanted. And then once you got it, you would find it was not so wonderful anymore!"

"Here's the thing. I know that you have been doping certain shinigami into losing their memories, and I suspect it's because you intend to use them as sleeper cells to further your designs. Whatever the details, it is clear to me that your intention is to supplant the Gotei 13 with an organization more suitable to your lofty tastes. And of course after that, you'll turn your sights higher, and aim for the top! Namely, eradicating the King of Soul Society so you can take his place. Am I right so far? Anyway, that's where I come in to your little plan. To do all that, you'll need to increase your personal power and enlist an army of tough guys, and where better to find willing slaves than in the ranks of the shinigami's hereditary enemies, the Hollows? With the power of the hōgyoku that you learned about, your own interests in Hollowfication will grant you incredible powers in addition to the ones you have already displayed to me and mine. You could then turn it around and use it to unlock the shinigami powers that reside in certain exceptional Hollows, thereby furthering your grand ambitions."

The capped comedian spun and twirled in place. "La-dee-DAH, how very ambitious of you, sir! And of course, I realized that the best way to thwart your schemes was to keep you from ever finding the hōgyoku. Since it could not be destroyed, this necessitated locating a terrific hiding place. But failing that, I naturally needed another strategy. And it dawned upon me that, while I could not terminate the hōgyoku, I could add on to it! Since I am the one who created it, after all, I can do that."

"You see, Aizen-_taichou_, what you are holding right now could be considered the Hōgyoku 2.0! With new and improved features that were not originally included! Specifically regarding another object you either recently had in your possession or still do if my agents have failed: the Royal Key. There is another interesting tool. It too is completely unique in the universe, able to open the door to the King's dimension. No other means exists to accomplish this feat. Once I ascertained that you were interested in such an artifact, I tried to learn as much about it as I could. Difficult considering my situation, but not impossible. While I was unable to determine any means to fabricate another Key with the data at my disposal, I did have success in researching the nature of dimensional travel. Something of a bright gem in my crown, you might say. Why, I even learned how to go to Hueco Mundo, in case you're interested!"

Urahara's face bore a faint, knowing smirk. "But here is the long and short of it. After studying the archives for what little was known concerning Nirvana's creation and the Key, as well as examining certain other objects and people reputed to have come from that fair land, I added a function to the hōgyoku. It is a single-purpose design. When the gem is within the bounds of Nirvana, and a Key is brought to within a certain distance, that function will activate, and convert what was once a Royal Key into a Royal Lock. This new artifact can then be used, not to open the King's Gate, but to close and seal it! Since it is an altered design, the new Lock can only be opened by a Key which has also been adjusted with the hōgyoku. But more importantly, owing to the properties of the Lock, it can only be opened from _the same side of the Door on which it is locked! _Which means that if the one-of-a-kind hōgyoku is left behind in Nirvana, and the Lock is operated on the side of Soul Society, then there is absolutely no way that anyone on the Nirvana side can ever leave that dimension! So right now, you are holding the only thing that can affect your release. And can never do so."

"Best of luck to you in your efforts to become the next King, Aizen Sōsuke. If my plan has failed, I will soon be dead. But if it has succeeded, I hope you enjoy your new home. Because you will be staying there for as long as you live. Consider it a gift from your devoted _in absentia _subject. I know something about being forced to reside in one dimension, you see. And now, so will you."

The holographic figure doffed its hat and bowed forth. "_Adieu, _Your Highness. I will remember you fondly for the rest of my days."

The image winked out.

Aizen did not speak or stir for several minutes.

Then a presence fell upon him, along with a terrible shadow.

_**Wh-wh-what HAve we heeerRRRE? I mean TTHErre's bloody-blood-blood leaKING Falling out!**_

Looking up, he saw Coyote Stark come padding across the blood-stained fields. The giant creature was licking its chops, fangs filled with a collection of pierced body parts and gruesome remains. The _Primera _sucked on them and shook its head, sending offal and organs flying. It then came sniffing closer, and twisting its head around, one tremendous orange eye fell upon the bound Unohana.

_**I c-c-caaan SMELL someONE inside someone tasTY JuiCY roLL arou-round my BELLY why don'T we cRRRRRACK it opening and SHARE toge-ther-GET-HER!**_

Tosen donned his mask swiftly and drew his sword in preparation. The Hollow's master looked at it calmly. "Stark. Leave us. Now."

Coyote dropped down low to the earth, its tail held high and wagging playfully. The insane spirit of War had now clearly gone past any form of cooperation after having glutted itself so fully. Adamantine claws ripped furrows through the soil as it snuffled and snorted. Then it shuffled a few paces closer.

_**NO! FEASTING noW BEast kING!**_

Kyōka Suigetsu leapt from its sheathe into his hands and the Lord of the Takuiyoku brought the weapon up to point between the mad ghost's eyes. His own brown orbs glittered with vengeful malice that did not care who it turned upon now.

"If you attempt to harm her, I will kill you."

In response, Stark raised its head and howled.

Then it sprang straight for him.

_**RRRRUN!**_

Aizen dropped his mask down and let his true power blaze forth along with every drop of furious wrath he had inside him.

"_**BAN-KAI!"**_

_**SeguuuunDA ETaPA!**_

And then there was true war between the gods.

* * *

Kisuke Urahara sat in front of his shop, legs crossed beneath him and cane across his knees. Tessai also waited patiently at his back.

At last the gate opened before them.

For the first time in a century there was no sense of opposition to be felt in the light that gleamed through. As he had been assured, the seal was finally broken for him. The genius scientist closed his eyes. He drew a long shuddering breath, held it, and then let it out. Last one. Had to make it count.

He then stepped out of the gigai, allowing it to fall over. No further need for it. Now attired in the black robes of a shinigami, he looked behind him to see Tsukabishi dressed in similar raiment.

"After you, good sir," Kisuke drawled and indicated with his zanpakutō.

"Thank you, Urahara-san," the big man nodded, and proceeded to walk through the open door.

Urahara remained behind. He had not wanted to admit the courtesy was more an excuse for him to bask a few more moments in the light that flowed through from Soul Society without feeling like he was holding up a line.

"It's been so damn long," he chuckled, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

Then the exile-no-more stepped into the world of the dead and all it had to offer.

_To be continued…_


	34. New World: And Justice for All

The gardenias had long since bloomed and fallen as Rukia walked across the field. All the same, she could swear their scent lingered in this place always. The wind was blowing, enough to make a song from the leaves rustling together, but not enough to feel troublesome. It was a warm peaceful afternoon. In a few days, summer would be over, and fall would begin.

She came up to the stone marker and knelt before it. A small bundle of wisteria was laid in between the incense stands, which she then proceeded to place sticks into and light. The young death god produced a flask and two dishes. Filling them both, she reached out and settled one cup before the gravestone, right below a small bamboo-rimmed mirror that was set into the monument.

In the reflective surface, Rukia caught sight of herself as she lifted her cup in a toast.

"Happy birthday," she murmured, and took a drink.

The taste of plum brandy seared her throat. The wisteria's fragrance tickled her nose, and both sensations combined to trigger memories.

* * *

Bed space in the Fourth division was not nearly sufficient to handle the number of injured. As a result, the Tenth and Thirteenth were converted into emergency medical centers. Casualties were hard to estimate so early after the cessation of hostilities, but it was estimated that at least two of every five death gods had been killed, and a similar number sustaining wounds that could quickly propel that cautious estimate to twice its previous level. As such in place of lugging swords, all available personnel, from academy cadets on up, were assigned to administer aid to the Fourth in their efforts to keep the casualty rate down.

Rukia was resting on a bench outside the treatment areas, taking a break from her duties, when she felt someone sit down beside her. The presence was unmistakable. Opening her eyes, she looked over to see Renji directing a tired smile at her.

Without a word, she flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug. He didn't hesitate to do the same. Relief was felt very strongly on both sides.

After a while, the two of them broke apart. Elated and exhausted all at once, the girl looked at her flame-haired friend, reaching out to give his hand a secure squeeze.

"I'm so glad to see you," she murmured.

"Yeah," Renji nodded with eyes half-closed. His hair was loose and spilled down his back, reminding her strangely of Captain Ukitake. The thought of this reminded her of the reason why they hadn't seen each other in a few days.

"How are the captains doing?"

"Well," he admitted, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck, still holding onto her hand with the other. "The lieutenant says they're all out of danger. Soifon has been back on her feet for the last twenty-four hours, you might have seen. All the rest are still confined to bed."

Kuchiki hesitated before asking the next question.

"And Yamamoto?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead Abarai looked down at her petite fingers holding his. One big thumb came up and stroked the back of her hand contemplatively.

"He'll live," Renji finally spoke in a carefully controlled voice. "Started seizing up there for a while, but Isane got to him in time. She told me that his body was reacting to the lack of shinigami powers. Since he had so much, it's more of a shock to his system than for the others. She consulted some of… Unohana's private records. Turns out the old man never let her treat him for anything, but she kept specific track of his health all the same, and the lieutenant used it to figure a few things out. Yamamoto's strength was so incredible that it was destroying him, while at the same time sustaining him. His body aged as a result, unlike the three others, but he never lost any… vitality, I guess you could call it. Just got older. Now that he's no longer a shinigami, there's nothing to provide him with energy. He's just a wrecked old man."

Rukia flinched, and immediately Renji wished he had chosen his words better.

"He'll live, like I said," the lieutenant hastily strove to confirm. "They've got him hooked up to machines to help him breathe, and monitors in case his heart goes out. He can't find the strength to talk anymore, looks like, but he's asleep most of the time anyway, so that's no big deal."

There was no response to that. Feeling unbelievably foolish now, the anxious Vaizard was just straining to think of any good news to tell her, when she suddenly stood up.

"I'm on break for an hour," Rukia said as she glanced over at him. "Let's put that time to good use."

For a moment Renji was so scatter-brained that he could only think of one possible interpretation of that statement, and his mind went blank at the prospect, but thankfully before he could open his mouth she continued speaking.

"Come walk with me. I want to hear about everything that went on with you these last few days." And with that she hoisted him upright and dragged the taller man down the lane.

After he managed to collect himself to actually keep pace with her instead of stumbling along behind, she looked up at him inquiringly and said, "So he really just left?"

"Who?" he asked. Then it came to him. "Oh. Yeah. He did. And I'll never forget what he said right before."

* * *

"_We're down a vasto lorde." Grimmjow bared his teeth threateningly, Hollows swarming by the hundreds behind him. "But I'm willing to bet we could still kick your asses."_

_Renji and Neliel steeled themselves for the resumption of bloodletting. An army of shinigami took up weapons at their backs. The Hollow general looked between them, and gave a snort._

_Then he turned slowly around, presenting his back to them, and addressed his own forces in a loud voice._

"_Screw the shinigami. ALL of 'em, Aizen, Ichimaru, Tosen, the whole malodorous bunch of dipshits, just SCREW 'EM! I'm through doing whatever some super-powered prick tells me to, Hollow or shinigami. Ulquiorra followed orders, and look where that got him." He kicked back at the mound of dirt that had once been an Espada. "This is a nice world they've got, but aside from the shinigami, there isn't even any food here! I never really wanted to live in Soul Society. I just wanted a chance to fight! Now I have. I survived when a vasto lorde didn't. That's either luck or a pretty damn clear sign that keeping up like this means I'll wind up dead eventually."_

_The Sexta spun on his heel and leveled a wicked glare at the leaders of the opposing army._

"_I don't know about the rest of 'em, but I'm leaving."_

_Abarai and Odelschvank stared at him. _

_A snap of his black talons, and there was a garganta opening behind Jeaguerjaques. _

"_If and when Aizen pops up, he knows where to find me. Don't bother telling him to screw off, I can do that myself." _

_Crouching down, he then sprang backwards and vanished into the darkness. The tear in space knitted up neatly, and the Espada was gone._

_Shinigami and Hollow now watched one another across the field. Both sides were not certain how to take this unexpected occurrence. There was shifting and hissing among the ranks of the masked demons. As for their opponents, nothing but deadly silence, illustrating the disciplined resolve of the force that remained to challenge the invasion. _

_Word quickly spread amongst the denizens of Hueco Mundo. Their war leader had deserted them. In addition, one of the pinnacle of their species had inexplicably been brought down. And most disturbing of all, their glorious deity had not appeared to save them in their time of need._

_Fear began to grow. Quietly, though, lest any of their fellows see and obey their natural instincts to fall upon the weakened comrade and devour them. But faster than anyone could have predicted, as the seconds ticked by and no one came to their rescue, uncertainty set in. Morale broke down._

_It was like watching a mob slowly disperse. First in ones and twos, then more, fallen souls began to disappear. Negacción beams fell from the sky at the command of the Números to shepherd them to safety. They took the Gillian with them. Their numbers began to disperse drastically then, as the frightened Hollow army saw their mightiest warriors abandon this conflict. And if they had not triumphed with them, then without, defeat was a certainty._

_The Gotei 13 made no move to pursue. The call had gone out. They had done their part. Now the thrill of combat was replaced with a more urgent imperative, as the cries of the injured and dying began to come clear. Their fellows needed them. And so the shinigami turned to relief efforts._

_No one dared to say it, but it appeared as though the war was over. At least for now._

* * *

"The Gotei 13," Rukia mused as they paced down the walkway together. "They fought so well. Given the odds, we should have been overwhelmed. But the regular shinigami held out 'til the other side just gave up."

"We were outnumbered, you guys were outmatched." Renji tucked his hands into the front of his robes and blew out a groan. "Both sides beat the odds."

"Any chance the Hollows will come back?"

A shrug of his shoulders. "Don't know, but I doubt it. They don't operate well without someone to lead them. If Grimmjow turned down the job, I can't think of anybody left who could assure them that they stand a chance at victory."

She stopped and looked up towards his face. Renji peered back uncertainly, and Rukia frowned.

"I know that look. You're wondering if you could have taken him if he had decided to keep going. But the fact that he didn't should already tell you the answer."

"Rukia, I'm not…"

"You defeated him," she announced matter-of-factly, a self-assured scowl causing her eyes to glitter.

The idea left a bad taste in his mouth, and the big brawler glanced away. "He didn't look beat, Rukia. Just sick of fighting. I can't lay claim to being an _Espada_-slayer like some others."

"That's because you're too dense to see past one interpretation of victory." And she flashed him a fond smile. "Maybe you didn't hold his severed head up for all to see. But he ran when the odds still looked in his favor, while you stayed to fight. Nobody forced him to quit this time, except maybe you. That counts as a win, Lieutenant Abarai."

Her compatriot paused to consider this declaration. The look on her face told him that attempting to argue would be met with physical force. That much their long association had taught him. So rather than do that, he rubbed his neck and grimaced as though at some pain.

"I guess I'll take your word for it. Although you're so short you couldn't see victory without standing on somebody's shoulders."

A punch to the gut he didn't try to avoid followed. Rukia stalked off fuming, and he followed with a somewhat sore grin.

_This is victory? I wonder what defeat feels like._

Ask Grimmjow. He'll tell you.

* * *

The last remaining _Espada _in Hueco Mundo peered about that realm disinterestedly. Now that he was back, the difference between Soul Society and this place stood out. Home had never looked more like a dump.

Still, though, something here called to him. The desolate dunes and rocky spires were virtually bereft of souls, it was true. But there was a sense of wildness that appealed to the beast in him, far more than those paltry shacks and walls that had existed in the shinigami world. Any wilderness there had been squeezed out to the fringes by civilization. In this domain, at least, a panther could run free without having to follow a street or slow down for traffic.

It wasn't much, but it was home.

Dammit. I never even got to fight an actual captain. Some war.

Grimmjow started walking then. Near and far, he could see the remnants of Aizen's army following his retreat. It didn't look as though they had the stomach to stick around and fight it out by themselves. Typical Hollows, there probably wasn't a single collective spine to be found in them. It was this, combined with the realization that this brief feeling of freedom wouldn't last long when King Sōsuke returned (if he returned), that caused his easy gait to transform into a fierce lope across the sands. Still in his released form, the king of the hunt raced onwards, in search of something he had only been given a taste of.

Figure there's still room for me to grow. I'm going back to what I was doing before I got sidetracked with all this crap: shooting for _vasto lorde_ myself. When I get there, maybe then I'll hunt those two again and we can pick up where we left off.

He drew to a halt atop a long spear of rock that thrust out of the dunes. The moon was shining high overhead. Black sky, with no clouds whatsoever. Nothing to block your view.

The _adjuchas _crouched down and surveyed his territory. Somewhere out there was the heart of Hueco Mundo. It was the place where two of the _vasto lorde _had been discovered, living in relative obscurity despite one of them claiming to be the king of this dimension. Perhaps in that place one could locate the means by which they had ascended to their level of almost unbeatable power.

"Grimmjow!"

He turned and looked behind him. A small number of Hollows were approaching his position. Not even ten at the most. Some of them were _Números, _and others less than that. Spoiling for a fight, maybe? Come to punish him for abandoning Aizen? Well and good, then. I could use some fresh meat.

The first one to draw near was the one who apparently had spoken, and after a second he recognized her as the _arrancar _scout he had spoken to earlier, Enfain… Tezima, that was it. She moved closer, small and unassuming, then stopped a short ways off.

"What?" he growled, scooting around to face her without rising off his haunches.

Tezima looked apprehensive, but like before she didn't back down in the face of the threat he represented. "I was thinking… and a few others also… we can't let this stop us. Even if Aizen isn't coming back, our lives… our _hunts_, actually… they're not done."

Grimmjow picked at his teeth, tail sweeping through the sands as he appraised her and the others now drawing close. Not even worth the effort of killing them, from the feel of it.

"And that's got what to do with me, huh?"

Another Hollow spoke up then. "Take Aizen's place, Grimmjow-sama! Lead us should the shinigami come to continue the fight!"

A rumbling laugh came from his chest. "_LEAD _you? More like _protect _you, isn't that what you're sayin'? Need somebody to defend your measly asses when it looks like you're about to get purified or eaten. Screw that noise."

He turned and prepared to leap off his perch.

"I'm not asking for protection." Tezima had stepped forward again. "And even if I was, I certainly wouldn't look to you for it, Grimmjow. All I'm saying is… we're Hollows. Hollows hunt. And we might have greater success if we… hunt together."

The ghost-cat paused.

Hunting together. Like in a pack. He'd done that before. It had worked pretty well, until the death gods came along and told him he needed a number. Now that they were gone, maybe it was time to find another crew to run with.

Well, even if they don't last, I can always hunt them. Those are the rules.

"All right," he growled and came about with a grin. "You want to run together? See if you can follow where I lead."

Enfain managed a nod in the face of his bloodthirsty smirk.

This mild agreement was washed away, as something impinged upon her senses.

Grimmjow sensed it to, and he jerked up, looking all around him warily.

"Oi!"

He came about, and saw a slender figure standing farther off with a sword hoisted over its shoulder. Wearing an ornate Hollow mask, this troubling form also boasted white wing-tip shoes, tan khaki pants, a dark brown dress-shirt with yellow lines running up and down it… and an ascot.

The wind blew, and its smell washed over him. Upon scenting it, Jeaguerjaques snarled.

"You."

Shinji Hirako lifted one foot and kicked it back and forth aimlessly, sending sand spilling out.

"Dammit," the Vaizard leader sighed. "And here I just washed my socks yesterday. Not a very stylish-friendly environment, if I do say so." He then stuffed one hand into his pocket and started to move towards them, whistling a merry tune. Several of the Hollows who had followed Grimmjow immediately took flight at the measure of power spilling off this unknown entity. Only two remained, Tezima being one of them. She drew her sword from its scabbard and moved to the _Espada's _back, while her cohort did the same.

"What is it?" she murmured nervously.

"Old prey," he remarked, feeling that familiar eagerness coming upon him. Well, becoming _vasto lorde _can wait. There's always time to settle a few scores.

As he thought this, several prodigious explosions occurred elsewhere on the horizon and all around. Grimmjow paid them no great mind, focusing instead on the enemy coming towards him.

"The natives are restless, I see. My buddies had to resort to fighting a lot quicker than I would have thought!" Hirako called as he made his way forward. "I was thinking we could talk for a bit about the new direction Hueco Mundo is headed in. But we can pick up where we left off, Grimmjow, it's fine. Assuming you're not too tired to fight, that is."

Okay. That decided it.

The _Espada _crouched in preparation to leap. "And here I thought I wasn't gonna get any serious action out of this war. It's never been so good to be wrong!"

Grimmjow charged towards his opponent, the remainder of his new pack close behind. In response, Shinji began to power up a _Cero_.

The war for Soul Society had ended. The war for _Hueco Mundo_ had just begun.

* * *

A hastily-constructed fortification had been erected on the site of the former First Division offices. Even at night, torches blazed in rings around it, and there was no shortage of sentries to be found patrolling the perimeter. In spite of this, no one lived or worked in this impromptu dwelling. Its official purpose was to offer peace of mind to those used to seeing something at the heart of Seireitei other than bare rock. Reassurance was all it had to offer.

Especially to those who knew the real reason for it being there.

Byakuya walked past the guards without pause. Many of them were members of his division or servants of the Kuchiki family. They would never dare to question him for visiting this abandoned structure so late in the evening, any more than they asked why it was necessary to secure this site in the first place. Perhaps each one had their private speculations on the subject. As long as none of them guessed correctly, that was what mattered.

The interior of the building was little more than a hallway leading to a cleared arena. Exiting this passage, the nobleman spied the glow cast by a small ring of braziers. Far off in the shadows beyond the orange aura there could be seen a twinkle of diamond light. He knew it came from the magic cord Gleipnir, securely fastened into the ground but now binding no one. Byakuya ignored this sparkle and instead focused on a solitary figure standing in the circle of torchlight. It troubled him to find her in this place, and thus he went to join her.

Dressed in a light cotton sleeping yukata, Yoruichi Shihoin turned her head at his approach. She offered him a faint smile that quickly dissipated before turning back to contemplate what lay before them. Byakuya placed his arm around her shoulder and studied it in turn.

Firelight glinted off the nodachi sword buried point-first in the earth. No one had been permitted to touch it directly. Long strips of white fabric bedecked with runes and wardings wrapped about the blade before anchoring in the earth, giving it the appearance of a miniature maypole.

The only sound was the crackle of the flames, and her breathing right beside him. At last Byakuya chose to speak.

"Why do you come here?"

She reached up and clasped the hand which gripped her shoulder.

"I'm afraid."

There was no need to admit he felt the same way. Instead he spoke to reassure her. "We have taken precautions. What is the sense of letting it frighten you?"

"Because it's solid proof that we can only do so much to protect ourselves." She shifted nervously in one place. "Those bindings come courtesy of Tessai Tsukabishi, and it still doesn't feel like enough. It disgusts me to admit it, but I honestly wish one of the Shiba could be convinced to break the Gleipnir seal so we could use it to wrap that monstrosity up tight, throw it down a well and then drop a mountain on top to cover it."

The Kuchiki lord was disturbed at seeing her so rattled. Yoruichi hadn't exhibited such anxiety before. Asking an ally to give up their arm to ensure your safety did seem a small price to pay if it meant keeping them all safe. But it was still an ignoble sentiment, unworthy of her consideration.

"I know you would never ask such a thing, from Kūkaku or her brother."

Yoruichi shivered then. "I _should_ have known it wouldn't end simply. But all the same, I really wished we could be granted some peace. Now instead when I lie in bed beside you, I feel like a child, afraid to close my eyes because if I open them it might be to find _her_ right there looking at me."

Byakuya drew the lovely woman closer to him, and she rested her head against his chest without ever taking her eyes off Minazuki. There was quiet then for a time as they took in each others' warmth.

"I thought I was so clever when I left Tezcat here with you," the goddess spoke suddenly. "My soul never really departed Soul Society fully. That meant I could come back whenever I liked, no matter what spells they used to keep me out. All those old goats would just scratch their heads and wonder how I did it. Now I see there was someone just as clever. If I didn't know for a fact it worked, I wouldn't be so scared now. Ignorance really is bliss."

"You are looking at this the wrong way," he insisted. "Throwing Minazuki at us was a foolish, desperate move. Without a zanpakutō, her strength will be severely lessened. She cannot perform ban-kai, and because of you they were forced to fight the Zero Squad without Aizen for a time. It's highly possible that both of them were killed after the gate closed, and the rest soon after. The war for Nirvana may already be over, for all we know."

"No." She gave a shudder, and smoky golden eyes rose to fix him with their glow. "Minazuki is still alive. We both feel it. So at the very least, she is too. Don't ever doubt that, Byakuya."

No sense arguing. They both knew it was true.

"Come away from here, my love" he spoke gently, turning to guide them from that disturbing chamber. "For now, we are safe. That woman's final attack harmed no one but herself. She gave up her weapon, her dignity, and any right to call herself a shinigami. If she does return, we will be ready for her. Be sure of it."

The princess of Shihoin stopped walking.

"You're wrong, Byakuya."

A feeling of discomfort stole over him at the sound of her voice.

"She wasn't aiming for Rukia and Ichigo. I think it was a warning to us, in more ways than one. Unohana wanted us to know that if she ever comes back…"

And Yoruichi looked over her shoulder at the bound spirit resting behind them.

"… it won't be as a shinigami."

They left the prison without speaking another word.

Minazuki watched them go, and then returned to waiting. Patiently waiting for its mistress to return and lay claim to her power once more.

* * *

"Captain Hitsugaya?"

He turned at the voice, to spy Nanao Ise walking down the hall towards him. When she drew abreast, the lieutenant stopped and they stood together in the secure medical wing of this area.

"You here to see Kyōraku?" Tōshirō asked quietly.

She nodded, looking more drawn and dispirited than he could remember. The captain had to remind himself that this woman had reputedly turned the tide in the Northern Rukongai during the fighting, taking over after their leadership fell. When the conflict ended and they met again, Tōshirō almost didn't recognize her. This valkyrie with unbound hair casually hoisting an ōtsuchi, a five-foot long maul with a small steel head, bore no resemblance to the reserved and bookish person who had saved him mere hours past. Nor could he correlate the fabled Mistress of Paperwork with the lady so many shinigami claimed had waded into the battlefield, whirling that sledgehammer about one-handed as though it weighed no more than a feather.

However, it had become clear to him recently that he did not know his allies as well as he might have thought.

"I've just been to see him and the others," Hitsugaya informed her. "I'm certain he'll be glad to see you."

"Thank you, sir."

She bowed and moved past him then, clearly eager to reach her destination. As she did, though, the head of the Tenth division called out. "Nanao-san."

The slender figure paused, glancing back behind her. "Sir?"

"When you've finished, please find me. There's something I need to speak with you about."

They had both been dreading this talk, if the way her shoulders tensed was any indication. But Nanao only inclined her head in acknowledgment and proceeded on her way.

Tōshirō then continued in the course he had first intended. Passing through the halls of this sprawling complex, he came to an area that was significantly less boisterous than others. This was the recovery center, where those who had come through suffering grievous injuries were transferred after they were deemed out of danger. The calm quiet of healing and recuperation replaced the screams and cries of wounded men and women he had been hearing seemingly nonstop for the past few days.

While not particularly adept at healing, the young shinigami was not above aiding the Fourth division members whenever possible. There was no question that those brave and determined healers had proven their worth during and after the conflict. While inexplicably deprived of their division head (and there was an explanation that he dreaded having to tell them eventually), they had carried on in the tradition that Unohana had embodied throughout their lives, providing aid and comfort to their wounded fellows. Privately Hitsugaya had feared that when the final tally of the fallen was counted, they would have lost virtually nine divisions worth of shinigami. But thanks to the valiant efforts of the Fourth, it appeared as though well over half of the total fighting force of the Gotei 13 would still remain, for better or worse.

Certainly after this their previously maligned group could look forward to a new level of admiration among their comrades. The members of the Fourth had ventured into the battlefield to recover shinigami that had been injured, fighting off Hollows whenever they needed to. Only a small number of their order had been lost in spite of these ceaseless heroics. Perhaps this was owing to their focus being not on killing the enemy, but keeping them occupied until their charges had been successfully spirited to behind the front lines. Whatever the case, Hitsugaya had a newfound respect for those former sewer scrubbers.

At last he came upon a private room that had been given to one of the first injured service-members at his request. This had been before the number of casualties swelled to the point where every available room in this region had been appropriated for as many wounded as they could take. Still, some small selfish part of him had not wanted this person's rest to be interrupted.

Iemura Yasochika, Third seat of the Fourth and acting-Captain Kotetsu's first officer was waiting by the door. The sour-faced man wore an expression more crestfallen than usual. His eyes were red and faded behind his glasses, a testament to the lack of sleep that need for his phenomenal healing powers had demanded of him lately. To his credit, he had not slacked off but instead thrown himself assuredly into the fray, coordinating the rescue and treatment procedures with the greatest of skill and fortitude even while getting his own hands dirty providing first-aid to all comers. Here was another person deserving of significantly more credit in the future than he had previously received.

"Hitsugaya-taichou," the spiky-haired officer spoke in a soft voice while clutching a medical report. "We've finished administering follow-up treatment. The damage to her internal organs has been effectively undone. Vital signs are strong, and she shows all signs of making a full and speedy recovery."

"Has she woken up yet?" he asked hopefully.

A shake of his head. "No, sir. But it's probably just a matter of time. You can see her, if you like."

"Thank you."

Yasochika bowed and the captain stepped past him.

The room was small but comfortable. The smell of blood no longer marked it so heavily. A single bed with a mosquito-net covering took up the center of the chamber. Crossing over to it, he seated himself on a chair and looked at the woman sleeping peacefully. It was a sight so nostalgic he felt a juvenile urge to cry.

Rangiku Matsumoto looked about as well as one could expect, considering that she had been carved open by a berserker beast and barely saved from having the remainder of her intestines splattered across the living world. Kira had administered first aid to her during their aborted showdown in the skies of Fake Karakura, and it was for this alone that he found himself feeling even a small measure of gratitude for that proven traitor. Tōshirō carried his wounded lieutenant to safety himself, and left her here feeling overwhelmingly guilty. Like if only he had seen through Aizen's tricks quicker, there might have been no need for her to end up like this. The gorgeous and vivacious woman who had been such a trial for him to work with almost lost her life owing to his inability to defend her.

_Were she able to hear you berate yourself, Matsumoto would be scolding you._

Can't you permit me to hurt a little here?

_Grieving has its limits. She will live._

That's hardly the point.

_What is, then? Have you forgotten that she is a shinigami as well, and was long before you? She survived without your aid for decades. This was the enemy's doing, not yours. Accept that._

I just feel like… if she _had _died, if I had lost her, then… every single time I took her spirit and dedication for granted before would have haunted me forever. I never gave this woman her due.

_Don't be absurd. If not for you, she never would have been recognized as a lieutenant. Those pompous officials would have kept her down for nothing more than the color of her hair, something you should know quite well._

She woke me up when I was willing to stay frozen in one place forever. Do you remember that?

_Perfectly._

I benefited from meeting her, more than I ever could have thought possible. So maybe now I can help her to come awake.

_Are you going to kiss her?_

WHAT? No! Why would you ask that?

_It's a fairy-tale. Kiss the sleeping maiden to wake her. I wasn't trying to upset you._

Hitsugaya stared at his slumbering subordinate. Then he reached out and gripped one of her hands.

If I thought it would do any good, I would. Without question. But even if she did wake up, I don't think I would ever hear the end of it. You know how she can get.

_Thankfully, yes. And don't pretend you aren't missing all that._

I won't.

Though he would have liked to stay a while longer, Tōshirō knew that there were many demands upon his time. This was the most he could allow himself in terms of luxury. All the same, when he rose from his seat, it felt as though a weight he hadn't noticed was lifted from his body. There might even be a certain spring in his step that wasn't there before.

He glanced down at the honey-haired charmer. Well, supposedly she did have that affect on men. I might not be immune to it forever.

"Sleep well, Matsumoto-san," he murmured. "I'll come back when I can."

Briefly the boy thought about kissing her hand. That wouldn't be considered inappropriate, right? But the more he considered it, the less simple and innocent a gesture it became. Before he could think himself into an even bigger guilt-trip, he gave Rangiku's fingers a reassuring squeeze and left the room.

* * *

Nanao seated herself by her captain's bed. Shunsui Kyōraku had always seemed like a very big man to her. She had first-hand experience in just how big he was, considering many was the time she had been called upon to drape one of his brawny arms over her shoulder and support/carry his intoxicated form through the streets of the Rukongai.

Now, however, he looked less so. Maybe it was seeing him propped up on his pillows like this, or just the simple lack of anything resembling flash in his dress. Wearing a simple white recovery gown, her captain wasn't quite the same. And she tried to tell herself it was nothing more than that. A setting, and clothing.

But they both knew that was a lie.

"I wish I could have seen you out there, Nanao-chan," he murmured, those chocolate brown eyes twinkling. That, at least, was not diminished. "How often do I get to observe you in full battle splendor? Ahhh, that I regret more than anything else."

Nanao had never been one to sugarcoat topics or dance around them. Now was no different. "I spoke to Lieutenant Kotetsu. And Inoue Orihime. They told me what happened. But they… couldn't tell me _why."_

"Why what?" He was looking out the open door of his hospital room onto the veranda. A tranquil garden complete with late-blooming foliage and a small stream was there for his enjoyment. And right now, he looked quite absorbed by them.

She reached out and touched his cheek.

Shunsui turned back to her, clearly surprised. Then his face softened.

"Why didn't it work?" she whispered. "You… when Inoue couldn't return the Commander-General's power, I thought… it was simply too much for her. He had too much power for her own to encompass, there was a limit to how far she could go, or something like that. But then she failed with Komamura, and Ukitake and…" Nanao swallowed, adjusting her glasses self-consciously and fighting to keep her voice steady. "… you."

"I know."

The ancient warrior gave her a fond smile. Just the way he used to. Seeing him grinning like this, sadness welled up in her throat, and her eyes began to burn. She drew a shuddering breath and took off her glasses, wiping at the tears before they could be seen.

"Nanao…"

"_Why?"_ she hissed again. "Why was Soifon the only one who got her powers back? Was it something that Unohana did to you all, or maybe to Orihime? Is _that_ why she could only give _one_ of you back your shinigami powers?"

He looked slightly troubled now, gazing down at his silken sheets thoughtfully. No less handsome, no less kind… But now, there was no sense of spirit power from him at all. Not even a trace.

And suddenly she crumpled, falling face-first onto the side of the bed weeping.

Nanao felt his warm, large hand come to rest on the top of her head gently.

"It was nothing anyone did to us, Nanao-chan," Kyōraku murmured. "I can't know for certain, but I think… it was more to do with ourselves than anything else."

She didn't speak or move away from his touch, and so he continued. "Orihime Inoue has a truly amazing ability. She can reject a state of being that has fallen upon anyone or anything. But consider what that means… to _reject _something. This implies placing your own will against that of another. And normally when she uses this ability to heal someone, they participate in her rejection of their injuries. She wants to heal them, and they in turn wish to be healed."

"But what if the person… rejects the healing?"

A few seconds after this statement, Ise's sobs ceased. Then she slowly came up, looking at him strangely. Shunsui shrugged.

"I didn't want it back, Nanao. It's true, and that's probably why it didn't work."

She just stared, absolute incomprehension working over her face.

"Nanao-chan," her mentor spoke in measured tones. "You have known me for over a century. In all that time, I was never anything more than I was a Captain of the Seireitei. But even before you met me, that was my duty. For nearly two thousand years, I kept the peace in this world and beyond without stop. And I'm _tired, _Nanao-chan!" He settled back into his cushions and closed his eyes. "There is no retiring from the Gotei 13. Not for captains, at any rate. You either get promoted or die. Have you ever wondered what it must feel like to know that you have nothing to look forward to but endless fighting, for as long as your soul can last? And if you have a very powerful soul, who knows when the end will come? You might never die. It was beginning to look that way for me. I had no chance of stealing away to a tranquil little cottage by a lake and spending my remaining days fishing and writing down extraordinary poetry."

She made a noise then that he chose to ignore.

"I knew Unohana. Obviously not completely, but to a certain extent." He shivered, remembering the face that woman had turned on him in the moments before the sword entered his flesh. "It would have been so easy for her to simply kill us both, but instead she just destroyed our _saketsu_ and _hakusui_. And she healed us too. Cured Ukitake completely of his affliction after stabbing him, and most of mine before she did me. She didn't want us to die, you see. Most likely she hoped for us to live to see her rule. And continue to live in it." His voice now took on a regretful tone. "I don't begrudge her the hatred she felt for us. We should have done more to help that woman. But I was too careless to see what was being done to her, until it was past the point when help would have been needed or appreciated."

He cocked a look her way. "Even with all that power, I couldn't protect one woman from being abused to the point where her heart simply collapsed. So what good is power to me, Nanao-chan? It was never more than an excuse to do as I saw fit. And it also meant I would always have to serve the Gotei 13. But no longer. I'm free to do something else with myself. And that's why the restoration didn't work, I think. Because I rejected Orihime's rejection of what had been done to me. Partly from guilt, and mainly from relief that it was finally over. The same is true for Ukitake, no doubt. His death god powers are gone, but his body is now healthy nonetheless. He can do so much now that he never could as a captain, for as many years as the both of us have left. Would you have that taken away from him?"

Nanao had gotten herself under control in that time. She was pondering the ideas he had presented to her, in that serious-studious way that had always looked so smolderingly attractive to him. Now was no different, but it simply wasn't the most auspicious moment, so he chose not to act upon it.

"But if that's true…" she said at last, "then what about the others? Why didn't Komamura, or even the Commander-General experience a restoration?"

He crossed his arms over his broad, hairy chest. "For Saijin, I think he was too much aggrieved as to what had been done to the Old Man to believe he should come through this affair without a scratch. Living as a regular soul will be his enforced atonement, for failing to protect the person who offered him a place in our world. He was always a deeply devoted man. But Yamamoto… from what Isane-san told me about the attempt, I think it was more to do with his body refusing the process than he himself. His power was so enormous it actually caused him to age and deteriorate in a manner the rest of us didn't. Unohana was even older and almost as strong, but her magic was all about preservation, so that was never a problem for her. Jūshirō and I look in the bloom of health in spite of our years. You'd think being so much greater, Yamamoto would have looked the same. But Jii-san… well, he never lost a step in terms of fighting, and yet he could sometimes barely keep himself awake throughout a full captain's meeting. They're boring, I'll admit, but it was more like his body was trying to give out from the strain of shouldering that supernova of reiatsu. Only his shinigami powers wouldn't let it, and neither would he. Now that the former's gone, I don't think his body would accept it again, knowing the terrible strain that power put upon it. Even if he wanted it back. 'The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak', you might say. In this case, they're the same, but it still holds true."

They were both silent for a time.

"What do you want me to do, Kyōraku-taichou?"

He considered this question. Then Shunsui looked up. "Will you snuggle with me?"

Her fist stopped a centimeter from connecting with his nose. There was anguish etched in the woman's face as she realized that striking him now, with the difference in strength that lay between them, might prove fatal. For him. And so without utmost restraint she settled for simply flicking him on the bridge of his nose.

"Ow," he muttered, covering the sore spot and grinning like a fool. Then he let his hand drop. "Nanao-chan. I don't think the title of 'Captain' applies to me anymore. However, if you want an old man's advice on what you might do… well, I certainly wouldn't mind some company for a while longer." Those strong features grew serious of a sudden. "But I know there are people more seriously injured than myself still. And you're probably one of the most adept magic-users left. So as a continued representative of the Gotei 13, I should inform you that your duties still call."

Nanao's head bowed, and her eyes peered up over the rim of her spectacles. "Sir… I don't know if I want to continue in this life. It just feels so empty, now."

Shunsui reached out to take her hand. "Then change, my dear. If you wish to, leave the pomp and circumstance behind and do as your heart demands. I won't try to stop you. Only a suicidal idiot would." And he leaned in a little closer. "But if I might make a suggestion…"

* * *

When Hitsugaya departed Rangiku's hospital room, he left feeling more buoyant, as though he had shed a disturbingly uncomfortable layer of skin. As the day wore on and new problems appeared to distract him, this sense of lightness gradually diminished.

However, it was only early in the evening, when he looked up at a knock on his office door to see Nanao Ise waiting there, did true apprehension fall over him.

"Lieutenant Ise. Please come in."

She proceeded to do so, and stood at attention before him. Something seemed a little off, and he noticed that for once Nanao was not clutching a sheaf of binders stuffed with paperwork or even a book. On top of that, she looked more relaxed than when he had run into her earlier. Probably relieved to find her captain still in high spirits in spite of his condition. The loss of soul energy did nothing to lessen that man's heart.

"Captain, I believe I know what you would like to speak to me upon," she intoned in a formal manner. "Given that, would you care to move to a more… suitable locale?"

He knew what she meant. And the idea of doing so left him feeling unaccountably nervous. But perhaps it would make this discussion easier. And so with a nod, he rose and led her through a screen in his office. With the fall of dusk, lamps were being lit outside, and light-vines now glowed over their heads as they walked down a narrow corridor. The pair of shinigami traveled for a short distance through little-used halls, until at last they came upon a nondescript portal no different than any other.

Taking a key from his pocket, Hitsugaya unlocked the door. As he did, the spells of protection he had cast quietly faded away upon sensing his presence. He and Nanao then moved into the room, and the portal closed behind them with a soft rush.

Only one lamp was in this room, a spotlight shining down on a silent figure at its center.

They approached and stood together before the statue of Hinamori Momo.

The creator of that work crossed her arms and gave it a very cold glare. "You would like to know if there is any way to reverse this, I take it."

Tōshirō watched her closely. "Is there?"

She flicked her head in a way that implied disinterest. "If so, would you ask me to do it? Or simply order me?"

"I'm just asking, Nanao-san."

Her gaze swung around to rest on him. "She would have killed you. Not to mention me. I tried to end the fight without having to resort to this, but she left me no choice. It is a punishment of her own devising. I feel absolutely no regret. She was a monster."

"I know that," he replied softly. "But not always. I remember the person she used to be. That's why a part of me was glad to see you didn't do to her… what I hear you did to some of the Hollows."

Nanao watched him for a time from her superior height. Then she reached up and removed her glasses. He flinched a little, remembering the accounts from frightened shinigami of what had happened during the battle whenever she did this. Any Hollow she looked at simply turned to stone, to be crushed to rubble by her hammer moments after. The lieutenant had been careful to do this only a few times, presumably because _anyone_ who locked eyes with her would suffer the same fate, whether friend or foe. Thankfully only one shinigami had been stricken, and it was the one who stood before them frozen in a posture of absolute terror. Nanao knew herself well enough to be careful.

"I smashed Tobiume," the violet-eyed Medusa announced matter-of-factly. "Even if she does recover, her life as a death god is over. That part of her soul is dead. And I distinctly emphasize 'if'. The first time I released my shikai, the only ones with me at the time were Captains Kyōraku and Ukitake. I didn't understand my power then, and when I looked at Shunsui, he almost turned to stone. Once it starts I can't stop, but fortunately the spell takes a longer time to act depending upon the spiritual strength of the target. Since his was so great, Ukitake realized something was happening in time and knocked me out before I could complete it. All that happened was that the captain was moving very stiff and slow for about an hour after that. They both swore themselves to secrecy regarding it, and I was grateful. After that we practiced on some Hollows and learned what Ureshii Onnaneko could do. But we decided she was only to be used in case of emergency. It was simply too dangerous otherwise."

She tapped her glasses in the palm of her hand. "When my captain was about to fight Yamamoto after the Sōkyoku fiasco, I was preparing to use my shikai on him right before he crushed me with his aura. I knew that they wouldn't let me go all the way. Neither wanted the Soutaichou to die. They would have knocked me out again, but I thought that Yamamoto would be sufficiently hindered by the curse's after-effects so that the two captains would stand a better shot against him. However, aside from cases like that, there hasn't been a time when I didn't follow up the petrification by demolishing my opponent. They were Hollows, after all. Destroying them like that was my way of purifying them. So I have absolutely no experience in what might happen to someone under the curse long-term. It might wear off, or it might not. As you can see, the effects remain even after I seal my zanpakutō."

The cold, detached manner in which she spoke made the prince of ice a bit uncomfortable. "So she may come back."

Nanao turned her head and gave a noncommittal lift of her shoulders.

Hitsugaya looked at the statue, those familiar features twisted almost beyond recognition. "It was a miracle she didn't get shattered when the First division offices were destroyed. When I found her like this, I didn't know what to think until I heard what you did out in the field. I understand completely why you had to. Believe me, I know that Momo was too far gone for things to end nicely and neatly. But I thought there might be a chance for her to be saved."

He reached out then and touched one of those rigid gray hands held up before him.

"I still think that."

The stone was icy beneath his fingers, without even a hint of warmth to indicate there may be life somewhere deep down inside. But when he looked over at Nanao, she was regarding him with a significantly more compassionate expression than before.

"If you truly feel that way, Hitsugaya-taichou," she spoke gently, "then I hope for your sake that it does happen."

There was nothing else to be said in that room, and so the two of them left it. Hitsugaya shut the door and reaffirmed the binding to prevent anyone else from entering. As they began walking back to his office, he noticed Nanao had a thoughtful look on her face.

"Something wrong?"

"No," she shook her head, still not having donned her eyewear and looking quite different as a result. "Just something Kyōraku-taichou said to me. We're restructuring the Gotei 13, trying to blend divisions that have lost their command structure with others of suitable temperament. He suggested that I find another First seat to serve under now that he is retiring. Abarai-san will be made captain soon, no doubt. But regardless of where he's put in charge, that still leaves only two captains who are missing vice-captains, and five prospective officers including myself between them. So the math isn't perfect."

"Nemu-san, Isane-san, Iba-san, and… Chōjiro-san," he realized after a moment. "All have lost their captains. And Kuchiki-taichou and Abarai-san will be needing vice-captains of their own. I see what you mean." Hitsugaya lifted an eyebrow curiously. "Did Shunsui-san have a recommendation as to which of them he thought would be best suited for you?"

Did she flush a little there? From anger or embarrassment?

"He said that Captain Kuchiki could use an industrious and competent subordinate, but if he and I stayed in one room for more than an hour, it might grow so frosty icicles would form on our lips. He also thinks while Abarai-san would benefit greatly from my abilities, he isn't handsome enough to keep me from killing him when he inevitably does something stupid."

Tōshirō couldn't help but smile at this evaluation. It certainly sounded like the sort of reasoning a madcap loafer like Shunsui would follow.

"I suppose I could always apply for a captainship, ban-kai notwithstanding," she mused aloud.

"I wouldn't be averse to taking on two lieutenants, actually," he spoke up then, sensing an opportunity that didn't come around very often. "Ukitake had a similar arrangement for a long time. Rangiku hasn't recovered completely, and my life would be a lot easier if you were there to show her what actual work looks like once she does return."

The spots of red still hadn't left her cheeks, and she continued marching forward with eyes fixed firmly ahead. "That is a kind offer, Captain. I will give it my consideration."

Rangiku and Nanao. Two more different women couldn't possibly be imagined. He might be asking for trouble by making the offer, but the benefits were certainly more obvious than any nebulous images of screeching cat-fights.

Feeling a little hopeful nonetheless, he decided it wouldn't hurt to show her his soft side. Just to reassure the lady that he wasn't completely removed from the affable Shunsui.

"If you and Byakuya would cause icicles to form, the two of us together might unleash an indoor blizzard!"

She ground to a halt.

The young hero also stopped walking. Nanao's head spun around to focus on him, and Hitsugaya found himself taking an involuntary step back at the look of rigid disapproval that had descended upon her features. She bent down then until they were peering directly into one another's eyes.

"Captain Hitsugaya," she spoke in a very dark, dangerous voice. "If we are to ever work together, there is one thing I would like made perfectly clear."

He swallowed and desperately wished for a teleportation charm to get him out of this situation fast.

"Regardless of what people say…"

Reaching up, Nanao suddenly yanked the clasp out of her hair, allowing soft black strands to tumble down to her shoulders. Glasses off, hair unbound, cheeks flushed, the Queen Office Lady stared into his wide glass-green eyes.

"I am _hot!"_

She then grabbed his face and proceeded to steal his lips with a smoking kiss.

Before he could react, the lieutenant jerked away and stood upright. Her hands flew through the air, and once more there stood before him the calm, bespectacled lieutenant of the Eighth, hair neatly draped up in back with one long strand falling on the side of her face.

Nanao Ise turned and walked away, leaving the flabbergasted youth in her wake.

_KNEW you'd do it eventually! You're my favorite person EVER, Nanao!_

Hush. I have work to do.

With that she strolled back to her division, fighting very hard to keep a smile off her face.

* * *

Following Tōshirō's departure from her hospital room, Rangiku Matsumoto lay in uninterrupted tranquility.

Minutes afterwards, upon being certain no one else lingered close by, the darkened shade upon the floor stirred. Then it rose up, out of the shadows, and took a seat in the chair beside the beautiful woman's bed, drawing aside the curtain to gaze upon her.

A hand missing two fingers reached forth and touched her hair gently. When it did, she stirred and awoke.

"Hey," Gin whispered softly.

Rangiku looked at him for a while. Then a tender smile came to her lips.

"You're alive."

"Of course I am."

The woman he loved reached up, and Ichimaru clasped her fingers. There was no disguising the pain in his movements, as well as the blood that matted his hair and clothes. Her eyes came open fully, and when they did tears gathered in them. "Oh, damn, Gin! What the hell did they do to you?"

"No," he spoke swiftly, and coughed a little. Blood trickled down his chin. "I'll be all right. I'll survive this, believe me. I took precautions long ago. I just wanted to see you before I left."

"You're leaving?"

Matsumoto looked about to try and struggle up, but he laid a hand on her shoulder to keep her from doing so. When she looked down and saw the maimed claw, her face twisted in anguish. Hurriedly Gin removed it before she could see any further.

"I brought it on myself," he insisted. "I have to lie low until things have settled down. Hopefully the people I helped will explain to the others what I did. It's not much, but it's all I have to bet on right now. But whatever comes…" He smiled then, blue eyes shining just for her. "… don't doubt that I'll come back to you."

Rangiku returned the smile, and when she did the pain of his wounds was forgotten for a time.

Her golden hair rustled as she settled into a more comfortable spot. "So who won?"

"My side, of course." Another spate of coughing, and once the stabbing in his lungs had diminished, he continued. "The one I chose to join after it became obvious Aizen didn't have what it takes."

"Fox-Face," sapphire eyes glittered knowingly, "Did you do something bad?"

A nod of his head. "I promised to explain everything to you one day. You must have guessed a lot by now. For the time being, let's just say that Sōsuke Aizen said he wanted to be God. But if he really was, then he would have known better than to let certain things happen."

* * *

"_Gin," Aizen intoned gravely. "Before anything else, I should tell you that there was an incident involving the Espada the other day."_

"_Yeah?" his ally shot back. "Anybody died?"_

"_No. Not quite." And with that, he threw a switch and a holographic projection appeared over the conference table. The two of them watched as Neliel tu Odelschvank was ambushed and crippled by two lesser arrancar. Both she and her fracción were then dumped outside of Hueco Mundo, with the Tercera reverting to the form of a small child._

"_Quite a stunt," Ichimaru observed laconically. "You promote those two yet?"_

"_I was waiting for your return before broaching the matter." _

_Aizen's eyes never left his face. In response, he simply raised an eyebrow. _

_"What? No big deal. Just scrape off the tattoos and give 'em new ones."_

_His leader remained still in his chair. "You have no objections?"_

_Ichimaru stood up with a grin. "Why? Should I?"_

_Sōsuke considered this for a second. Then he waved an idle hand and rose as well. "No. If that is all you have to say, we can begin the reassignment tonight."_

"_Super."_

_Side by side, the shinigami left the room. Gin kept his trademark grin firmly in place. In no way at all did he display any outward sign of discomfort, not even by the slightest._

_Inside, however…_

You never should have let them do that to her.

* * *

_From a safe distance, Gin watched as Aizen conversed with the abominable thing shackled on the surface of the moon. He would not draw any closer. Every time that creature moved in its confinement, he felt a thrill of fear up his spine. He knew it was bound, and would remain so until Sōsuke figured out how to affect its release. Once that happened, Fenris Wolf would no doubt join their ranks._

_The vasto lorde raised its head and howled, and this time he could not hide the emotions that it invested in him. The Third squad captain's lip curled downward with abject disgust. He could vividly recall the beasts that had ripped his dead body to shreds right in front of him._

_Gin hated wolves._

How dare you insult me like this, you arrogant prick.

* * *

_With Stark's stolen chain safely tucked in his robes, he waited in the real Karakura Town for his contact to arrive. Whoever they proved to be, they might be surprised when he refused to hand the enchanted cord over to them. After all, he hadn't yet reached a final decision on that score. It all depended on what happened in the next few minutes._

_Gin watched the mock battle in the Karakura facsimile take place using a transmitter Aizen had given him. This had ostensibly been to keep him up to date on Yamamoto's return, but the entire time since coming here he had spent watching Rangiku. Aizen had assured him that he wouldn't kill anyone unnecessarily. And Ichimaru certainly never mentioned to either of his fellows that they should specifically ensure her safety. After all, if he did that, it would expose his feelings for her. No, if Sōsuke wanted to play God, then he had damn well better prove it by realizing that if anything happened to Matsumoto, his loyal servant was going to…_

_The Hollow beast Alon ripped open her stomach so that her entrails spilled out. Rangiku plummeted to the ground like a stone._

_And Gin?_

_Gin knew frenzy, and hate. So he went to look for someone to kill._

That's four times. Aizen Sōsuke, you are no God. Just another damn bully.

* * *

"You'll be all right now," Gin spoke in soothing tones. "Your friends will take care of you 'til you're well. That brat Tōshirō was just by to check on how you were doing. The doctors give you a clean bill of health."

Perhaps it was ridiculous for him to assure her of recovery when he himself remained a mangled mess. Rukia had a lot of anger inside her. Certainly explained how both he and even Yamamoto could have fallen to her blade. If no one covered up the truth, folks might just start calling her 'The Captain-Crusher'. This thought made him chuckle, and his lungs bled all the more for it. He resolutely swallowed down the resulting blood so that Matsumoto wouldn't have to see it.

As he rose to depart, a hand stole up to touch his sleeve.

"Stay here. Please."

He glanced over at her questioningly. She was gripping his arm again, holding on as though never intending to let go.

"If you did betray Aizen like I think, stay and let them fix you! Let me call Unohana, or Isane, anybody! Don't go away to die all by yourself, I don't… want you to…"

She's crying again. Just for me. Mercy, what did I ever do to deserve you, Rangiku?

It took a significant amount of willpower to gently disengage that soft touch and lay her arm back down beside her. Then he stood up.

"I have to go, Rangiku. But it won't be forever. Not even for long. I promise."

"You infuriating man." She glowered at him weakly. "I hate you. I love you and I hate you. How do you manage to do that?"

"I'll take anything you can give me." And Gin smiled through blood-stained teeth. "Whatever it may be. As long as it comes from you, the blackest hate feels better than any other woman's love."

"Sweet-talker."

He bent over and kissed her on the cheek instead of the mouth, not wanting her to taste the blood in his own. Gin tried to put on a brave front as he then staggered out of the room, so that she wouldn't see how scared and hurt he really was. Deep down, he knew it was a wasted effort. His act never fooled her.

Rangiku didn't take her eyes off him. When he passed beyond the doorframe, Ichimaru merged into the shadows and slipped down the hall without anyone being aware of him.

* * *

The captains sat together on a balcony that overlooked the Kuchiki estate. Byakuya had been somewhat relieved to find that his ancestral home still remained in spite of the orders he had lain down prior to the fighting. He had no desire to question the servants' choice not to obliterate the manor as per his instructions. Right now there were more pressing matters to attract his attention.

A total of five people who wore the white haori sat in judgment in this place, spreading out in a line to either side of him. Soifon, having recovered her powers with Orihime's help, was noticeably rattled by the drastic downturn in the order of things. Zaraki was positively sedate by comparison, which Byakuya had never thought to see. The man wore an expression that one might have called contemplative on anyone else. With the Kenpachi, this was merely 'less demented than usual'. His face boasted a greater profusion of scars, and the black patch was now no longer just for kicks. Ulquiorra's claws had cost him the sight in his right eye. If this bothered Kenpachi, it certainly didn't show.

Captain Hitsugaya sat with legs crossed and hands resting on his knees, his spine quite stiff. For all this military posture, his eyes were distant, rooted on the floor. There was no use asking what troubles might be causing him such distress, for it was obvious to all.

Seated next to the lord of this house, Yoruichi was the first to speak.

"Before we end, is there anything you would like to say?"

The two men shackled before the military panel of judges remained silent. Neither seemed interested by these proceedings. Perhaps they had already determined what their sentence would be regardless of any arguments they made.

_Not_ _a difficult decision, in my opinion._

Mine is not the only voice to consider. We shall hear what they all have to say.

"Vice-captain Iba," Byakuya spoke and turned his eyes on the man. "Perhaps you would like to be heard at this time."

Standing at attention to one side of the prisoners, Tetsuzaemon crossed his arms and stared forward resolutely. "I feel I already made my position clear on this matter, sir. When the decision was mine, I chose to spare his life. Whatever happens next is not for me to say."

Crouched at his feet, Hisagi Shuhei shivered. The former lieutenant was in significantly worse shape than the man who had defeated him, still missing an arm with the other in a sling and his face wound in bandages. Apparently at the end of the fight, after disarming Hisagi (of his zanpakuto, not his remaining limb), Iba had proceeded to pummel the rebel officer with his fists. So broken and bloodied was he as a result that the medics Tetsuzaemon had called over after Shuhei lost consciousness at first did not recognize him. Following this, the Second seat of Division Seven proceeded to join the fray, remaining there until the Hollow army left the field.

"Maybe for him, that was enough to satisfy you," Hitsugaya pointed out. "But the other one crippled your own captain past the point of recovery." On his left, Soifon touched the spot on her chest where Unohana had pierced her flesh. "Do you have no recommendation in regards to Izuru Kira?"

For his part, the lank-haired swordsman under discussion retained a disinterested expression. Shackled hand and foot, he kept his eyes raised over the heads of the captains, watching the view of the great outdoors that was visible from this perch.

Iba grimaced and let his head drop, clearly less comfortable with this topic. "Sirs," he spoke slowly, "If I had been there, I wouldn't have been as… merciful… as those two Hollows. But they showed honor nonetheless, claiming that while fighting two against one was no great cause for concern on their part, killing the enemy after they defeated him was." His head came up, and he squared his shoulders resolutely. "In addition to this, Captain Komamura himself stated that he would not see his attacker slain outright. Since he is the wounded party in this affair, I feel that we should respect his wishes to that extent."

He stepped back, apparently having said his peace.

"Captain Zaraki?" Yoruichi murmured, glancing over at the pointy-haired pugilist.

"Eh?" he grunted, craning his head around to catch sight of her. "What is it?"

"Do you have anything you'd like to add?"

Kenpachi waved a hand vaguely. "Nah. You want 'em dead, put a sword in their hands and I'll kill the both for you. Anything else, I couldn't care less."

"We should execute them."

This was the head of the Onmitsukidō airing her opinion, a truly savage twist to her lips as she spoke. "Do the same thing to them they would have done to us."

Kuchiki narrowed his eyes somewhat at this suggestion. "I am familiar with that mode of punishment. It was used somewhat offhandedly in the past by the Central 46. Following their example is not something I can recommend, considering the results."

"We're wasting time as it is!" Soifon responded icily. "There is no accurate intel available regarding the current condition of Aizen's army. While we dawdle with these reprobates, the Hollows might already be readying a second surge. Our attention is needed elsewhere!" At her declaration, several of the black-clad Stealth Forces agents lining the back of the room shifted slightly, as if in preparation of carrying out a death sentence on the spot.

"Soifon."

When the princess of Shihoin spoke, her vassal's wrath appeared to lessen considerably and her skin went a bit pink, a fact that their host was quick to note and find distasteful. There was still little love lost between Yoruichi's two most ardent admirers.

"You might not trust the source, but I already assured you that Grimmjow and all his cronies have more pressing matters to concern themselves with than us. Hirako Shinji and the rest of the Vaizard made camp in Hueco Mundo before the enemy departed our shores. They used the same method Aizen provided to seal that dimension once all the Hollows came back through. And considering how much hostility they harbor for Sōsuke, I can guarantee that what's happening there right now is no picnic."

"I know you vouch for these ancient fighters, Yoruichi-san," Tōshirō spoke with a frown. "It's all from before my time, but I still have some concerns. How can you be certain these 'Vaizard' aren't subjugating the Hollows to lead them back here and take revenge for what Soul Society did to them before?"

She met his inquiring emerald eyes with her own steady gold ones. "All the people they had just cause to hate on our side are dead or almost there. Regardless of how they were viewed by Yamamoto and the bureaucrats, those people were devoted and exemplary shinigami long before you were born. Hollowfication didn't change that. I've lived with them for over a century now, and they're no threat to you or yours, Hitsugaya-taichou. Keep that in mind if you ever meet them."

Soifon stirred. "Yoruichi-sama, forgive us if our words are offensive to you. We only seek to make what good we are able from the difficult circumstances we find ourselves in."

"Actually, that wasn't such a bad idea you had," Yoruichi spoke up brightly. "Not so much the killing, Byakuya's right, that's a bit archaic. But the part about 'doing unto others', that sounds promising." She leaned back and tapped one long finger thoughtfully against her chin. "If you're talking in terms of truly poetic justice, these two before us didn't actually kill anyone. Still, if we took a page from their book, and destroyed their Binding Chain and Soul Sleep, rendering them regular spirits, I don't think that would be considered so sorry a punishment, do you, Soifon?"

Her former bodyguard hesitated as she digested this suggestion. "It… certainly would fit the crime, Yoruichi-sama. But there is also the problem of how much they know about our defenses. If we do not dispose of them, they must at least be sentenced to prison where they can cause no more harm. The Onmitsukidō has a number of suitable options in that regard…"

"Which is a matter we intend to discuss with you at length, Second squad captain," Byakuya broke in at that point. "But for now, we must remain focused on the matter at hand."

The remaining members of the Gotei 13's leadership all seemed to look as one towards the offenders. Hisagi ground his teeth audibly, while Kira continued to wear a mask of flat nihilism.

"I consider it an appropriate method of dealing with them outside of capital punishment," Soifon stated.

Hitsugaya nodded. "I agree."

"I'm not voting," Zaraki reaffirmed.

"The punishment should fit the crime," Byakuya stated and laid a hand on the hilt of Senbonzakura. "If there is nothing further to be said here, I believe…"

There was a small commotion in the hallway outside. Several people tensed at this interruption, fearing the worst.

The doors leading into this chamber slid open then. However rather than any form of attackers bent on liberating the imprisoned duo, there instead came Rukia Kuchiki and Renji Abarai, both unarmed and wearing civilian dress. Isane Kotetsu walked behind them still dressed in her regular black uniform. Rukia was attired in a plain kimono that bore no special mark, and her compatriot wore a floral print kimono that seemed rather out of place on his brawny shoulders. Several Kuchiki attendants fluttered behind them, casting anxious looks between the lady of the manor and her older brother.

Rukia halted well short of any of the ranked attendants to this trial as her path was barred by a host of looming shadows holding various lethal instruments. Beneath their menacing stares, she retained a face fixed in firm resolve. Her eyes traveled between those tight-packed killers and located the still form of Byakuya Kuchiki.

"Nii-sama, captains of Seireitei," she called out loudly, "Lieutenant Abarai and I feel we must present ourselves at this hearing."

In response to this, Soifon was already on her feet and bristling. "By whose authority do you think you can _barge _into this counsel as if you…!"

"Own the place?" Byakuya inserted calmly, keeping his gaze fixed upon his sister. He reached up to touch the silken scarf that had remained wrapped around his throat throughout everything they had endured in the last few days. "Actually, she does, Soifon-taichou. This is her home as well as mine. And as it is my house, I will hear from her why she feels it is necessary to intrude upon these proceedings."

The Stealth Forces cast inquiring looks back at their commander. Before they could receive anything in the way of affirmation, Rukia simply strolled forward with Abarai at her side. "Pardon me," the rawboned man spoke in a tone of stressed courtesy, narrowing his eyes beneath tattooed brows. In the face of this example of raw power combined with the woman's air of untouchable grace, the ninja clan stumbled to open a corridor down which the pair of friends walked. Isane bore a sheepish expression as she trailed along with them.

In moments, they were facing the last remnants of the captains of Soul Society. Standing behind the accused parties, it was Rukia who took up the discussion while Renji stood by her with about as much tact as he could muster. And she did it in a way that ensured no one would insist they leave.

"Renji and I are here to join our fellow traitors."

He had suspected something along these lines, but all the same, Byakuya had to struggle to quash an instinctive need to glower.

_The girl has lost her mind._

I was afraid of something like this. The only reason Soifon did not insist upon it from the beginning was owing to Yoruichi's influence. But even that might not be enough to help us now.

"Rukia-san, Abarai-fukutaichou," Hitsugaya stressed the courtesies to a certain extent. "What does that mean?"

"Kira and Hisagi are not the only ones Aizen manipulated to his cause," she responded. "Renji and I were also among those whose memories were altered to prevent anyone from knowing what was done to us. And when Sōsuke gave his commands, we acted to carry them out."

A wicked glare from the leader of those ninja hovering behind her had no effect upon the young woman, for which Byakuya was a little proud. It had taken long enough to convince Soifon not to go for his own throat after she was restored. Having correctly guessed Rukia's responsibility regarding Yamamoto's downfall, and been on the receiving end of Senbonzakura prior to Unohana's revelation of treachery, she had been rather incensed at the idea that neither of the Kuchiki siblings were their enemies. Only a firm and complete enumeration by Yoruichi of the events following her incapacitation had assured the strong-willed spirit there was no need to seek their blood.

That effort might soon come to naught.

Zaraki's brow beetled, then cleared as inspiration struck. "You tryin' to say you want to die?"

"If that's what you're giving to them, Taichou," Renji shrugged stoically, "we're ready to take the same."

"It is the only way to ensure there can be no talk of favoritism, that justice was upheld to the highest standard," his tiny counterpart intoned.

Byakuya had to take a moment to collect himself. Beside him, though, Yoruichi was apparently in complete control of her faculties, watching the two through half-lidded eyes.

"There is some difference between your situations, Rukia-chan," she purred self-assuredly. "While Renji-kun there did attack Captain Kuchiki, he mastered his Hollow side and proceeded to lead our forces against the Hollows to great effect. You weren't quite so blameless …" a growl from Soifon seemed to confirm this, "… but ultimately, you did try to stop Retsu before she could go through with her scheme. Not with the same success as you did the Soutaichou, but enough to warrant our consideration, I think."

"Maybe not everyone agrees with you, Lady Shihoin," the younger Kuchiki responded. She held herself with the bearing worthy of a princess, and this time there was no trace of the wide-eyed little naïf Yoruichi had taken such delight in teasing. "My actions did more to impede our war effort than whatever these two men attempted." She indicated where the disgraced lieutenants sat. Hisagi seemed suspicious as to whether this might be a trick of some kind, but Kira's face had finally taken on something that could pass for emotion. He was regarding Rukia and Renji with something very like surprise, as though the idea that anyone would come to his defense had never once entered his mind.

The boy captain now took up the charge. There was a gentleness in his words that he normally reserved only for close personal acquaintances. "You and Kurosaki nearly gave up your lives to save ours, Rukia Kuchiki. I saw what you both were willing to do to keep that woman from making her way back into this plane." Now a definite measure of gratitude crept into his tone. "I'll not be forgetting it anytime soon, and it means more to me than what you might have done in a moment of fear and anger."

"That is a mitigating factor, not an outright excuse, Hitsugaya-taichou." Rukia bowed slightly in his direction.

_Your sister seems dead-set on being the devil's advocate in this case._

A disturbing choice of phrase, Senbonzakura.

_Perhaps it would be for the best if we do not speak out just yet. See where the two of them might lead us. Who knows? They might have actually come in here with a plan._

If Kurosaki Ichigo were with them, I would laugh at the notion. But you may have the right of it. Let us see, then.

"Are you actually stating that you will accept any condemnation we deal to this pair upon yourselves?" A particularly hungry grin was plastered all over Soifon's face, her eyes gleaming at the prospect. Byakuya immediately regretted his previous decision, but felt it somewhat late to back out now. However, Yoruichi reacted to keep the meeting civil.

"Now, now, Rukia-chan, have you bothered to think this over? You've both been through quite a lot recently. Maybe you shouldn't be rushing headlong into any hasty decisions."

Deep amethyst eyes flickered ever so briefly.

"Yoruichi-sama," Rukia spoke softly, her voice gaining in strength as she proceeded. "You have no idea what we have been through, the four of us here. We were each singled out, isolated in moments when we were at our most vulnerable, and then preyed upon mercilessly by three powerful and manipulative men. This was not a case of being tempted with offers of power. They simply used their positions, combined with the respect that most of us felt for them. They wore us _down!_ Can you imagine what it is like to think you are safe and in friendly company, only to suddenly remember that person is actually your jailor?"

"We were never given a choice," Renji declared. "They unsealed our memories only for brief periods, and in that time one or more of Aizen's men was always there, experimenting with us or just shoving their ideals down our throats. We were shown things that sickened us, stuff that Soul Society actually condoned! And they didn't let us look for any explanations for it beyond their own. Whenever one of us started to fight back, we got overwhelmed. Then after we were beaten down, they zipped up the memories again, so that everything remained fresh for next time. It was brainwashing, pure and simple."

Rukia took a step forward. "We weren't abused physically. That wasn't the way Aizen liked to operate. Instead he played games. Question-and-answer, demonstrations, that sort of thing. All so he could find out our fears and insecurities, the things we believed in or cared about more than anything, and turn them against us."

Reaching down, she laid a hand on Kira's shoulder. He started at the contact, and looked up to see an expression of sympathy being directed at him. His head turned away as though the sight pained him, but after a few seconds he hesitantly came back around. Still his old schoolmate offered him only comfort and understanding, so that gradually the distress in his eyes eased away.

Abarai came to stand beside the bowed Shuhei. "Aizen and Gin… they were the men who saved us back when we were students and looked about to die. You must know about that. It was their way of seeing who among the new class could stand out in a crisis situation. They admitted it to us. But the respect we already held for them didn't go away even knowing that. Because by then we had been adopted into the Gotei 13, and served under them as actual shinigami. There was even more to admire about them, because they were our captains! They were the _best!_ You know about the culture of worship that the lesser members built up around the division leaders. Hell, it's encouraged! You guys are practically gods in our eyes! There's no choice but to worship you, because anything less we get kicked out or disposed of altogether. "

He shot an angry glare towards Soifon at that point, who didn't hesitate to return the expression. "It's a crappy life as a shinigami, having to risk your life day in and day out for eternity. The captains are the only constant, everybody else dies eventually. What are you supposed to do when your captain goes bad? No one ever taught us that at the academy. Who do you turn to, when there's three of them and who knows how many more might be hidden? Not that we ever had a chance to speak out. The spell was in full effect whenever those three weren't around. Don't pretend you don't know what it's like, hell, Unohana turned out to be a traitor! Tell me even you guys didn't idolize her to some degree, and she was the… worst of them."

His throat was feeling tight as he remembered a set of gentle hands healing his wounds after battle, and a magnificent woman granting him the sort of kiss whose touch you could never rid yourself of, no matter how much you wanted to. Not for the first time Renji wished his heart was as empty as a Hollow's, like he knew Retsu's must have been at the end.

The thought chilled him, and he slammed his jaws shut lest he reveal more than he had ever intended. Rukia took up the slack.

"We might have done as they commanded when our memories returned, but that is hardly valid proof of our characters. If you are going to condemn us, then take everything into consideration! Remember that when Hisagi and Izuru and even Momo had the opportunity to think and decide for themselves what to do following their captains' defection, they remained here. Aizen didn't order them to do that. It was their choice to continue as shinigami. Because they were proud of that fact!"

"We all were," she added bitterly, looking over at where her potential judges sat. With a shake of her head, the Kuchiki maiden continued. "We learned how to forgive the Hollows we slew, to some degree, because we knew they would be cleansed and restored to their proper paths, or at the very least damned and out of reason for our consideration. These men fought alongside you valiantly, until magic and years of abuse took away their ability to conceive refusing. This was compounded by serving under those traitors as their most trusted subordinates. It was easy for them to be taken advantage of! Instead of focusing on one page of their lives, I ask you remember the people they were, the ones you recognized as being dutiful and courageous enough to warrant their becoming officers."

Tōshirō's lip twisted at this. "If we did, that same reasoning could be used to excuse Aizen, Unohana and all the rest. We thought them worthy to be called champions of Seireitei, but it was all a lie. Weaker men and women died in defense of our world without ever receiving a fraction of the honors we gave to reward those maniacs' past deeds. Should we focus only on their heroics and not their crimes? How could we dishonor our nameless dead like that?"

"Because _that _is what those three used the most to influence us!" she cried out. "The idea that the rank-and-file members were _nameless, _that our souls and lives here meant absolutely nothing to the leadership of the Seireitei! We were expendable tools who could be replaced at a moment's notice, good only for carrying out orders until death. That is absolutely dehumanizing! But it works in a military organization, which is what Soul Society has become. Instead of a place of eternal peace, we are at constant war, knowing that each day could be our last. And Aizen promised us a better life, with more to hope for than anything regular shinigami could reasonably achieve. How could we be expected not to be influenced by that, if no other option was even under discussion except for our deaths?"

Zaraki stirred in his seat. "You guys fight like we do. And we die right alongside you if we have to. There ain't no difference when it comes to that. Why should we cut those two any slack?" He gave a wolfish grin. "Or you, for that matter?"

"There is a difference, at least in this case," she insisted back. "It was cruel and indecent, what was done to us. But it never would have worked if we had seen any chance to win against our tormentors. But there wasn't. They only showed us the worst this world had to offer, and believe me when I tell you there is much that is wrong with Soul Society today! Would our situation be this bad if things had been perfect before? This war was the result of atrocities perpetrated long before our time that no one spoke out against."

"ENOUGH OF THIS!" Soifon raged then, springing upright. "Having arranged our world's near total collapse, you have the temerity to slight it? The only reason we are in this predicament is because of faithless traitors like you! Believe me," she growled through bared teeth, "if the decision were mine alone, you would _all _be executed without delay!"

"Soifon," Yoruichi said calmly, "sit down and listen. We are hearing the defense at this point."

Her successor proceeded to do so grudgingly, reiatsu leaking out in tight murderous bursts.

Hitsugaya cleared his throat. "Rukia-sama, in the interests of all, perhaps you could tell us what you feel would be the most appropriate resolution to this case."

'_What do you want to happen here?_'

Where she stood to one side, Isane Kotetsu could not suppress a shudder as she remembered another trial long ago, when she had argued passionately and reasonably against the actions of an evil man. The end result of that case held nothing in the way of justice, and the ancient lieutenant dreaded seeing history repeat itself once more.

But Rukia was speaking now.

"We made poor choices, but only because there were no other options given. They wouldn't even allow us to fight them and die to protect our honor. We were deemed too valuable." Her low, husky voice compelled all to hear her words with a certain measure of consideration, if not understanding. "If you wish to truly be rid of the taint that those monsters left behind, then I ask you not to follow the old ways that led up to this disaster. Instead, look at the option that has been given to you so neatly."

For the first time in a while, Byakuya spoke. "And what might that be, Rukia?"

She kept her back straight as she regarded her elder, the very picture of wise womanhood. "The people we once were you respected. What we became is not fit to continue existing in most cases. Momo Hinamori has already paid for her misdeeds beyond this conclave's ability to address. What I ask is that you undo the crime that was permitted to be done to us. In short, I believe you should reactivate the memory-loss spell."

Even Yoruichi seemed taken aback by this suggestion. "Come again?"

"_Cloud Over Moon _is still dormant within them," Lieutenant Kotetsu spoke up as she stepped forward to face her superiors. "I've consulted Unohana-ta… my former captain's records, and I know how to duplicate the charm that will restore it. Each will revert to the men and women they freely chose to be, without the malign influence that fell upon them. They will remember nothing about what was done to them."

"Are you serious?" Soifon snapped, bristling. "You expect us to wipe their memories and send them back out into our ranks as though nothing has happened? Word of their treachery has already spread! You expect them to serve amongst loyal shinigami who never turned upon us? As though they have the right?"

"They do have the right, Soifon-taichou," Rukia addressed the violent vixen. "These men are shinigami. I hold their status as such and their lives in high regard. If you decide to take their powers and send them into exile, then I will join them. If they are to be executed, so am I. It wouldn't be the first time I am sentenced to death. Like coming full circle." And her eyes narrowed dangerously. "All I ask is that you not have the gall to call it justice. Kira Izuru and Hisagi Shuhei proved themselves decent and respectable men throughout the time they served. Tosen and Gin robbed them of this. They took advantage of them as surely as they did all those Hollows who followed Aizen here. Because they were alone, and frightened, and no one came to their rescue. We know better than to try and rule over those poor creatures. This is something Aizen chose to ignore in favor of his mad pursuits."

"If you punish these lieutenants, you're offering them less consideration than the Hollows," Renji rumbled. "And it isn't right. They're our responsibility, not our enemies. We're supposed to save the fallen, not punish them. And we failed to do that for these two. _They_ never convinced anybody else to turn traitor. That's the difference you asked about."

The pair fell silent and moved to stand behind the defendants.

The captains stared at them. Then Byakuya made a gesture, and a pall of silence fell over the rest of the room. They began to speak to one another then, but no noise could be heard by the other occupants. Only their bodies told some of what was taking place during this debate. Soifon was clearly harsh, Byakuya stoic but forceful, and Yoruichi remained busy interceding between the pair. Tōshirō's position was hard to make out simply by looking at him, but Kenpachi was definitely not interested in anything going on. His presence was purely for the sake of formality.

And behind the accused, the hooded executioners waited silently for permission.

Isane stood in the background, trying not to think about Gin Ichimaru laughing somewhere at this. Even with all of her nightmares gone, the source of those terrors still seemed to hang over the world in which she lived. Her mouth had gone dry. At any moment the sentence would be read. Would this one be just like the last?

It took only three minutes, in which none of the lieutenants or Rukia dared to move.

Another motion from Captain Kuchiki, and then his words rang clearly.

"Lieutenant Kotetsu."

The woman started. Her voice came out in a breezy whisper. "Yes?"

The lord of the manor stared at her purposefully.

"How long will it take you to fashion that drink?"

Her head came up, and she watched that stern figure, debating how to proceed.

"Before I answer, Kuchiki-taichou, I would like to make a request of this counsel."

* * *

The pair slid up through the floor in a manner that Uryū could only describe as being vomited out. He recognized the gold-plated confines in which they found themselves, however.

Rin Tsubokura indicated ahead of them. "Right through here, sir."

"I remember the way." Ishida moved past without another word, and the little lab rat had to hurry to catch up. They continued down the hall for a few minutes, passing sealed rooms and great opaque domes whose contents were no doubt best left unknown. As they walked, the Quincy noted how his companion kept sneaking furtive looks in his direction. After a minute he stopped and looked right at the flunky. "Yes?"

Rin gave a guilty start. "Er… sorry?"

"You were staring."

"Oh… well…" The shinigami scientist tucked his hands behind his back and studied the floor for a few seconds, trembling slightly. "I was just… curious." His eyes darted up and affixed Ishida with an inquisitive stare. "You're rather… in spite of… well, you see, I was charged with prepping the… _Toutoi Mimizu _for your arrival. I saw its specifications. You're… remarkably intact, considering…"

"You're surprised I'm alive," Ishida droned flatly. Rin quailed beneath his gaze in a manner that seemed rather familiar, though he couldn't quite place it.

"The lieutenant of the Fourth removed the… _Mimizu… _from me." He swallowed at the memory of what this man's captain had done to him, to say nothing of his family. The angry youth had to hold himself back from seeking to redress this puny pest for his admittedly minor role in the affair. "It was already dead by then. She disposed of it afterwards."

"That… still doesn't explain your… current level of health."

Rin continued to observe him speculatively. Not in the mood for an interview, Uryū turned away.

"Mayuri never factored compassion into his calculations. Or guilt. They both got the better of him."

He then continued down one corridor in particular. Tsubokura stood befuddled by this statement before trailing slowly in the living boy's wake.

Uryū found his teeth clenching the closer he drew to that room. There was still a lot of uncertainty concerning what he was about to see. The denizens of this insane laboratory had been extremely close-lipped, in some cases because their mouths had been sewn shut. But they had admitted him through their workrooms without question. No surprise, considering who had granted him access.

Faster than he had remembered, they were back in the chamber where Mayuri's body was housed.

It wasn't hard to pick out what had changed.

The liquid contents of the pool were no longer within it. They had spilled over the sides, risen up and then apparently frozen into solid form. Sprouting from the pond was a crystal geyser of sorts that lifted over ten feet high. Green twisted spikes that might have born a resemblance to a multitude of limbs and organs curved through the air.

Nemu Kurotsuchi stood with her back to the door, hands clasped before her.

As they entered, she turned her head slightly to look at them. There was no particular menace in her gaze, but Rin halted in mid-step all the same. A flick of the eyelids was apparently his cue to depart, for without another word the meek gopher turned and scurried from the hall without looking back.

Nemu regarded her guest for a while before turning back to the display before them.

"You wished to speak to me," she said.

Ishida didn't answer at first, caught up with what he had just realized. In this frozen eruption that lay before them there could be made out a human face which looked to be chiseled from green glass. Mouth stretched in a silent scream, eyes wide as could be, the contorted features undeniably belonged to the demented captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi. Seeing them like that made the resolute Quincy shudder in spite of himself.

"I…" He hesitated. "I wanted to see if it was true."

No response came from the lieutenant. Ishida chose that time to come up and stand beside her. He didn't know where to look first, at her or what was left of her father. Mayuri's remains were hideous, but there was something about the blank emotionless way she just stood there observing it all that creeped him out more than anything else. Eventually he settled for looking at the floor.

"What will you do now?" he spoke softly.

The woman responded without moving. "I will continue to oversee the activities of the 12th division until such time as the Captain sees fit to relieve me of my duties."

Clearly this was a sensitive topic. "I'm told that they found the source code for the binding at last. Lieutenants Sasakibe and Kotetsu brought it out of the archives of the Central 46. Those Kidō Corps wizards have been busy for several days looking to break it, and Yoruichi thinks Urahara-san will be allowed back into Soul Society sometime soon." He hesitated before speaking next. "You know… when Kisuke… I mean, when the Captain does return, he'll probably still want to keep you around as lieutenant. Whatever his faults, even he can see that…"

"I was not referring to Captain Urahara."

That brought him up short. "You said…"

"I meant Mayuri-sama. When he returns, he shall determine my removal."

Okay. Clearly more tact was required than he had first determined.

"Nemu-san," he said in as gentle a manner as possible, "I appreciate how losing a parent can be painful. But… well, you're starting to worry Isane-san. She asked me to check in on you after I recovered, and we both agreed that it isn't healthy for you to spend so much time with…" A quick glance at that gruesome sight. "… your father."

"Nee-san has no cause for concern," Nemu intoned in her soft voice. "My state of health is satisfactory. I am taking care of him."

It was just as he had feared. Collecting his resolve, Ishida reached out and laid a firm hand on her arm. She finally shifted her perusal off the solidified pudding to him.

This had to be said.

"Nemu-san, you can't take care of him. He's dead."

Those dull green eyes betrayed not a hint of reaction to this statement.

Instead she reached up and tenderly took his fingers.

"I know it's hard for you to accept but…"

Her grip tightened, and then she took a step forward, dragging him with her. Before Uryū could react, she placed his hand down on the surface of the petrified sludge.

Every nerve ending in his arm exploded with undiluted pain so intense he couldn't even draw breath to scream. Stars danced before his eyes as they flooded with tears. The next instant he was falling back, clutching at his limb which he expected to see a ruined smoking mess of meat and bone. Instead the appendage appeared as pristine as when he came in. So unexpected was this that he could only gape in astonishment before looking up to the impassive Nemu.

"What you have experienced is barely a nil fraction of what Mayuri-sama is undergoing now," she spoke matter-of-factly. "The pain feedback from _Toutoi Mimizu _is caught in a loop inside his nervous system, repeatedly surging throughout his mind and body. This prevents him from contemplating or recognizing anything beyond the agony. In addition, the experimental Quincy called Souken Ishida is now housed within his body as well. Their minds are effectively at war."

She indicated towards a spot on the central spire lower than Kurotsuchi's mask. Sure enough, when Uryū focused on it there did indeed appear to be some vestiges of another human face in there, though lacking the distinction belonging to that lunatic shinigami's.

"Mayuri-sama is striving to regain control of himself. There is no doubt he will eventually succeed, though a precise timetable for this cannot be effectively calculated. When he does return, however, I will be prepared to assist him for as long or short as he requires. That is all."

The captain's daughter then went back to observing her captive parent. Meanwhile, Ishida remained on the floor, stunned at the extent of what he had learned. What remained of his grandfather was battling Mayuri on some plane of torment far removed from this one. It seemed impossible to imagine that either one would ever manage to come back from all that. But she didn't doubt. Her faith in her father's abilities was absolute. It left him feeling awed.

And a little sad as well.

"Isn't there anything else for you?"

She made no response.

Still massaging his numb fingers, the Quincy clambered upright. "Do you intend to remain in this room forever watching them? What about Isane? She's worried for you."

The lieutenant's head dipped slightly as though she were in thought. Then she came back up. "My being here is of my choosing, and I may leave or return at any point. I realize there are other more foreseeable demands that require my active presence. I will devote time and attention to my duties in the Research and Development Bureau, as well as those of a shinigami lieutenant. In addition I must attend to Nee-san and aid her in the continued performance of her office. There is a longstanding tradition of collaboration between our divisions. With our respective captains incapacitated, an even greater need for cooperation between the Fourth and Twelfth exists. We shall continue to benefit from being in one another's lives. That is my decision as well."

Somewhere in there he got the impression this was the closest thing to human affection Nemu was ever likely to achieve. Ishida wasn't precisely certain how to translate it to Isane when he next saw her, but perhaps those two knew one another better than he realized.

There was only so much you could do to help people before you had to just step back and let them handle the rest. In spite of this, he found himself hoping for something good to come from their situation.

With that, he clapped his hands to his sides and bowed to her.

"Nemu Kurotsuchi, I humbly thank you for choosing to rescue me."

She observed his obeisance for a moment before turning back to studying the calcified remains.

Ishida rose to his full height and was about to leave, when he heard her speak.

"Thank you for your aid in resolving my concerns. I am… pleased to have saved you." Nemu blinked a few times, and it appeared as though her face relaxed somewhat. "Should you one day find that you have forgiven Mayuri-sama, I believe it would also please me to learn of it."

He almost came back with, 'Don't hold your breath'. But instead, seeing the way she looked right now, he decided to hold his tongue.

"Stranger things have happened, I suppose."

There was nothing more he could think of to say, and so he left the young soul to her chosen path.

* * *

His knees buckled beneath him. He couldn't help himself. Kisuke Urahara crumpled into the dirt of Soul Society.

So pure! So RICH! The taste of the air, scent of the soil, feeling it, _luxuriating_, like rolling down a slide of silk sheets and falling into the warmest most inviting ocean imaginable on a very cold day.

It's all mine. Where I was meant to live again. This is my_ home!_

"I'M HOME!" he shouted out wildly, pulling his shirt down and letting the sun pour all over his naked chest. He took in great lungfuls of the sweet spiritual air, each one making him crave the next even more.

It was all so blessed good.

To be honest, the exile-no-longer was rather shocked by his own euphoria. Until right this moment, he had managed to subsume the ache of being an outcast forever dying of hunger and thirst in a world not meant to house one of his caliber for long. But here, in this magnificent paradise of Soul Society, he need only breathe in and feel restored to full vigor. Whereas on Earth he had been required to remain in a gigai lest he deplete his reserves, here there were boundless possibilities open to him. It was the sweetest pleasure to no longer be stuffed into a meat suit at every moment, restrained by the need to stay hidden or simply to restore himself after a forced stint outside it.

The sentence was lifted. Prison was over.

Looking about, he saw Tessai standing with head bowed, teeth gritted in a futile attempt to hold back tears streaming down his face. The big man's head turned to regard his fellow fugitive.

"You have fulfilled your promise, Kisuke-san," that mighty sorcerer gasped in a voice made soft by emotion. "You brought us home."

They looked at one another then, and began to laugh, slowly at first, but building in intensity as their individual hilarity fed one another's. It had been a private hope that was so faint it was almost a shared joke between them, the prospect of actually coming home in any state other than prisoners or death. But here it was at last. The sheer undeniable truth of it was that they were no longer required to slink about in fear of either side hunting them down. Everything they had struggled to achieve for over a century was now within their grasp.

Doubled over, Tessai removed his spectacles and wiped his eyes, occasional bursts of laughter falling from his lips. Kisuke just sat and shook his head with arms draped over his knees, amazed at how things had worked out.

"Captain Tsukabishi. Captain Urahara."

Grinning, both men looked about at the squad of Onmitsukidō that had emerged in the area around their Senkaimon gate. One of them stepped forward and bowed.

"Gentlemen. The Lady awaits."

_To be continued…_


	35. New World: Let Me Tell You a Story

"You look terrible," Rukia intoned dryly. "I wish you'd get back to bed."

Ichigo blew out his breath in a derogatory fashion as he stalked down the halls of Shihoin Manor beside her. That told her what he thought of her suggestion. Dressed in an expensive yellow kimono whose thread shone like polished gold, he managed to still come off as dreadfully uncouth.

_Leave him be. I like him this way._

Who said I don't? I just wish he didn't project the impression of being about to go bulling through this meeting. It's been a long time coming, in my opinion, and could require finesse.

Her paramour tugged at his clothes uncomfortably. "This is maybe the only time since becoming a shinigami…"

"Shinigami substitute," she corrected him mildly, and noted how he glowered from the corner of her eye.

"… the _only_ time I wasn't a bleeding half-dead mess after a big fight. There's no need for me to sit around recuperating in bed." He turned his head away, and a different sort of ill humor clouded his brow. "Besides, there're some questions I want answered."

"Patience, my pupil."

The sound of another voice made them look up. There waiting before a pair of intricately carved round shoji doors stood Byakuya and Yoruichi. Both were dressed in simple finery that accentuated the informality of this dialogue. Rukia hadn't bothered to ask why the other captains had not been informed of this. '_There were some things that needed to be aired out privately'_. That was how Yoruichi had put it whenever they demanded to know exactly what the hell had happened back on the day of Armageddon. Aizen and Unohana's removal had inspired less relief than one might have assumed, considering that nobody seemed to understand how it had been achieved. Rukia knew that Ichigo especially was fairly simmering with questions. Hopefully now they would get some answers.

The lady of the house looked very calm and comfortable as she slid open the doors and stepped inside. As the rest followed, they heard a familiar voice cry out.

"Ah, and here we all are!"

Kisuke Urahara was wearing loose-fitting green silk pajamas while reclining barefoot on a stack of cushions in the opulent chamber. There was a small tray of choice delicacies at his feet, and he had a dish of saké that he carefully sipped as he waved them further into the room. "Come, come, all, don't dawdle! The man of the hour is here to finally relieve you of all your burdensome troubles!"

Rukia stepped in after her noble peers. She had felt the presence of a significantly powerful soul as they approached, but hadn't been able to equate it with the man she knew. Right here was the true Kisuke Urahara, former shinigami captain and bona fide super-genius. The depth of his power, even contained at his own discretion, was more than enough to cement that previously-held idea into solid fact. This man was one of the elite death gods.

And currently, he held all the answers.

"Join me, friends," Kisuke chortled merrily while indicating the sitting area. "The Shihoin household has lost none of its superlative devotion to quality throughout the ages. This drink is especially fine, like a woman's kiss on my lips with every taste! Oh, the pleasures of the spirit!" He sighed and leaned back, resting his head on supremely soft supports. "Why, if I were so inclined, I would have no trouble imagining these pillows to be a lady's full, ripe, tantalizing…!"

"Urahara-san," Byakuya delivered his words with a trace of menace, "We are not here to watch you degrade yourself. Kindly move to the matter at hand."

"Enough debauchery, Kisuke," Yoruichi spoke politely as she seated herself, bringing the Lord of the Kuchiki down with her. "They've been very patient with me, but only because I assured them you would be able to explain things to a greater level of satisfaction. So cut to the chase."

Rukia noticed as she sat how both Byakuya and Ichigo were directing near-identical looks of hostility at her former benefactor. One she could understand, because conversations with Yoruichi had let her comprehend just how much cause her brother had to resent this particular individual. She liked to think she knew Byakuya well enough for it to make sense.

The young man on whom she had pinned so many expectations, however, was another story. Not wanting to disturb the delicate social circle, she settled for resting a light touch on his arm. Kurosaki glanced over at her, and his expression cleared enough to let her know he would be on his best behavior.

For all that was worth. She would have to take what she could get, however. Urahara was talking again.

"Well, first off, let's get the elephant in the room out in the open," he crooned, settling in and having a long pull on his drink. "A little over a century past, Aizen Sōsuke arranged for me to take the fall for a crime he committed regarding the Hollowfication of certain prestigious members of the Gotei 13. Whether or not he knew about the existence of the hōgyoku at the time is open for debate. However, after a while he clearly did learn of it, hence his persistent efforts to track me down owing to it having remained in my possession. I never fooled myself into thinking there was no way he would ever achieve his objective. So my friends and I put our heads together, and eventually we managed to come up with a pretty good idea of what he intended to do with such an item. That was when we hatched our plans."

"Thanks to more free-moving members of our group," he inclined his head to the purple-haired shape-shifter among them, "we received intelligence concerning Aizen's pursuits, and wide-ranging they proved to be. He was highly active in Hueco Mundo, mustering support among the ranks of the fallen. On the other side of the veil, certain talented and powerful shinigami fell under the influence of him and his cronies. It was obvious that our nefarious nemesis was building himself an army of sorts. And the only thing he could need such a force for was to wage war against Soul Society and, eventually, the power of the King itself."

"After this became certain, a plan formed in my mind. If Aizen did mean to challenge the King of Soul Society, he would be required to take his forces into Nirvana, which was accessible only with a Royal Key. Entry to that plane is tricky for a reason, after all. Ancient and powerful souls worked long and hard to make that place secure against any and all attempts at invasion or forced entry. Being aware of this, I decided to capitalize on their efforts. If I could learn enough about the Key, then Aizen himself could do all the hard work of locating that marvelous treasure. After which I could implement my strategy and turn what he desired into a most cunning and effective trap."

"Get to the point, already," Ichigo snapped. Rukia felt a frown work up her face. So much for good behavior. She'd have a chat with him later about the virtues of patience.

"Hmph," Kisuke popped a bit of beef into his mouth and sulked openly. "Very well. For those of us inclined to rush into things without knowing all the answers, let me freely admit that I planned against the likelihood of Aizen gaining my hōgyoku for himself, and built into it a specific feature that would convert any Key he brought into close contact with it into a Lock, which could then be used to seal Nirvana permanently. The only way to open it would be if another hōgyoku-altered Key was applied to the side of the door from which it had been sealed. With the gem imprisoned along with its master in the King's dimension, and the Door shut from this side, there now exists no means by which a portal into or out of Nirvana can be constructed or utilized. To put it simply, we won."

The brilliant spirit regarded them from under his fall of curly blonde hair. "Any questions?"

Byakuya stirred. "If you were so certain of this plan's success, why did you insist on keeping the rest of us in the dark regarding it?"

He shrugged back. "I had my suspicions for years that Aizen might not be the root source of the rebellion. If there was an original mastermind behind him, it wouldn't do to advertise my foolhardy schemes to anyone and everyone. As we have so neatly learned, no one was above reproach." His face grew melancholy for a time. "Absolutely nobody."

Rukia saw an opportunity to seize upon a topic of discussion that held personal interest for her.

"Urahara-san." When he turned his attention her way, she remained perfectly composed, ready for anything that came next. "In the time when I first met you, were you aware that Sōsuke had cast a spell upon me of some kind?"

She saw Yoruichi move slightly off to one side, but kept her eyes trained on the man before her. He now seemed much less frivolous than in moments past.

"Yes." Urahara nodded. "We performed some tests on you with the intention of saving your life following your exposure to the _vasto lorde _living in our world. Afterwards it became clear that you were not only somehow connected to a good many people we had reason to dislike, but also laboring under a very old and powerful type of memory magic. The ancient spell _Cloud Over Moon_, which kept portions of your own mind secret to even yourself. While we couldn't lift the charm, it was enough to make us suspicious of you, as well as several others. With magic like that, people you and even they themselves believed to be your friends one minute could potentially turn on you the next. The most effective use of such a strategy would be to create sleeper agents who could be called upon in times of crisis to rise up unawares and catch their enemies off guard."

"After your failed execution, Rukia-chan," Yoruichi chimed in at that point, "I investigated a number of potential suspects. Some of them, like Izuru Kira and Momo Hinamori, were almost so obvious as to be red herrings. Others were less credible, like you and even Renji. But there was no way to verify their being under the spell without trying to cast the same thing on them. Two _Clouds _can't actively exist in one spirit body, so if you give a person the enchanted drink and it has no effect, you know they're already bewitched. Unfortunately, doing so necessitates you reveal what you're doing, which means the other spellcaster is now potentially forewarned about you and therefore forearmed. And we couldn't take that risk. So we just had to sit tight and wait."

"Did you know about Unohana beforehand?"

It was Ichigo who asked the question, and the room grew still in preparation for the answer.

The restored Squad Twelve captain shook his head seriously. "No. I suspected someone high up in our society, but right hand to heaven, I thought it was either Jūshirō Ukitake or Kyōraku Shunsui. They both seemed like much more reasonable suspects." He slumped back and chewed his lip moodily. "Clearly I was operating on faulty data. If we had bothered to ask Ukitake, we might have wrung from him earlier a good reason to cast suspicion on that fair lady. But that was a secret he might have taken to his grave, had she not done what she did."

Every single person in that room was unnerved by the memory of what Rukia's gentle captain had tearfully confessed to them after recovering his strength. How he had conspired to hide the fact that Commander-General Yamamoto routinely tortured Unohana Retsu in order to dissuade her from challenging his power, something that was not so far-fetched considering her own stupendous might. It came as no great surprise that centuries of this abuse had contrived to rob that once-magnificent woman of her compassion, to the point where she stood in danger of losing her heart and becoming a Hollow. Rukia especially regretted such a circumstance. She hated all the secrets that Soul Society kept, for the precise reason that they were almost uniformly evil.

Which reminded her…

"So Aizen Sōsuke was actually a member of the Takuiyoku clan, which was wiped out five-hundred years ago by order of the King and Central 46."

Byakuya had revealed this much to them in the aftermath, and Yoruichi had confirmed it. She now looked over at Rukia calmly. "Yes. Sōsuke Takuiyoku was the infant son of the head of that household, which was descended from the King himself. That much we can be reasonably sure of. Unohana must have rescued him from the slaughter with the intention of using him to bring down his ancestor. Or maybe…" and here the regal damsel hesitated, "… she was just trying to save one child from being murdered out of all those accused. Unohana did have a heart once. And she lived to rescue the helpless."

"Too bad you guys turned her into a loony," Ichigo muttered darkly.

Rukia rounded on him. "Ichigo! How could you…?"

"No."

Her brother's grim voice cut through anything she might have said. The pale-faced prince regarded his onetime adversary with an air of solemnity.

"He has the right of it. Our families contributed to this catastrophe more than we acted to prevent it. Had we bothered to question either Unohana's situation or even the order to exterminate the Takuiyoku, much of our current grief might have been avoided. But instead we kept silent, merely taking for granted that what we were told and believed was in our best interests, and therefore the best interests of all. In this way, the sins of our forefathers turned into a plague upon three worlds."

To everyone's astonishment, he turned to face Ichigo, and while still in a kneeling position, placed his fists on the floor and bowed his head.

"Ichigo Kurosaki. You have suffered as much as anyone as a result of our society's malfeasance. On behalf of the Kuchiki clan, I express regret for the threat this posed to you and yours. We shinigami are charged with defending the living and the dead, but instead we acted in a way to insure our prosperity at the cost of others, yourself included. For that I am sorry."

The orange-haired outlaw seemed only slightly less shocked than Rukia at this display. Clearly neither of them had expected such a confession today.

And just as clearly, the big oaf failed to grasp its significance. After a while, when nothing more was said, she deftly nudged Ichigo in the ribs. With a start, he came back to himself enough to respond. "Well… yeah… I accept your apology, Byakuya… I guess, but… that really isn't why I came here."

"No, but it was fun to watch anyway!" Urahara grinned at the rare sight of Byakuya Kuchiki humbling himself to another. Even Yoruichi turned a black look upon him then, and the relaxed researcher clammed up immediately under their collective wrath.

"One other thing, Urahara-san," the young princess of Kuchiki spoke to get his attention. "I understand now how you conspired to imprison Aizen and his minions, but in truth it seems a rather unreliable course of action."

"Oh?" he blinked at her. "How so?"

"For starters, how could you be assured of getting the Lock away from Aizen to use it against him? For that matter, what made you so certain he wouldn't leave a stronger force in this realm to guard the gate than he did? We were fortunate that Ulquiorra was the only soldier they entrusted with that task."

_Hey. Do they look uncomfortable?_

What? Well… yes, I suppose. Why?

_Got me. Maybe you should ask._

"Rukia-chan, you don't seem to have grasped the full extent of my machinations," Kisuke interjected quickly before she could phrase further questions. "In truth, while it might appear that my schemes went off without a hitch, in fact there were some last-minute alterations that required we switch to a back-up plan."

She regarded him suspiciously. "What does that mean?"

"My dear," Yoruichi murmured softly, in a way that reminded her uncomfortably of Unohana, "did you ever wonder how Kisuke knew so much about Hollowfication, the manufacture of _Garganta, _and other things that seemed to be straying into the territory of our enemies? It isn't the sort of thing he could do much open research on in Soul Society, and certainly not while hiding out in the mortal realm."

Rukia considered this frankly unexpected line of questioning. "No, actually, I didn't. I just assumed, since he was the former head of the Technological Research and Development Bureau, there must have been…"

"Appreciate the vote of confidence, Kuchiki-hime, but that isn't it." Urahara drew his arms to his chest smugly, looking very much like a man possessing a wonderful secret he couldn't wait to unload on everybody. "The answer to this and so many other questions is, I had insider help."

"Inside?" Ichigo looked between the pair of conspirators in confusion. "You mean… in Hueco Mundo? Who, like Nel? Was she on your side even before we met?"

"No, not Neliel-chan." Yoruichi had taken Byakuya's hand, as if to preemptively restrain him. "You might say we took a page from our enemy's playbook. Though it wasn't really our idea, we did have a traitor within Aizen's network."

Both Rukia and Ichigo heard this with a fair amount of astonishment.

Looking at them, listening to their voices, a dark suspicion grew in her mind.

_Rukia…_

No. That's crazy. It couldn't be. It just… couldn't!

The thought was so absurd she actually blurted it out loud.

"Ichimaru."

Rukia sat and waited for them to laugh at her, reassure her that this speculation was pure moonshine and she ought to be ashamed of herself for letting her tongue wag so foolishly.

But instead Yoruichi's golden eyes widened, and Kisuke gave an appreciative whistle.

"Good guess, Rukia-chan."

The other three people in the room wore equal expressions of disbelief.

"No way," Ichigo gaped, speaking what they were all thinking. "That's totally _nuts! _You're telling me you guys were working with that creepy smiling _asshole? _The one who…!" He stopped, seeming to rifle through his personal experiences concerning Gin and coming up rather short.

It was true. From what she knew, the two of them hadn't had much reason to meet since this affair began. But as for Rukia, she had long and detailed involvement with the once-captain of the Third division. And the manner in which their association had ended now left her feeling absolutely horrorstruck.

It can't be… he couldn't have been… helping us… and I…

_Don't flip out on me now, girl! Listen to what they have to say!_

"Believe me, I was far more shocked than you the first time he approached us," Urahara mused in a far-off tone of voice. "It was right before Rukia-chan gave up her powers to save the Kurosaki family. He showed up on our doorstep out of nowhere. None of us had even felt him coming, but there he was. Gin said he just wanted to let us know that we had been found out and that they would be coming to take the hōgyoku soon. The man disappeared before we could try to kill or question him. That was how I knew we had been discovered, and I started looking for a safe place to hide the jewel, because the next-best thing to Aizen getting it, going Vaizard and being imprisoned as a result was he never gets it and is forced to challenge Yamamoto and the Gotei 13 with just the incomplete _arrancar_ and his regular old self he always had. But…" and he threw up his hands dramatically, "… it turned out the other way instead."

"At first we thought he was just playing with us," Yoruichi muttered, fabulous eyes narrowed in malice. "Gin always liked to torture his prey, after all. But then, while the rest of you were fighting through the ranks of Soul Society, the shop apparently got another visit."

"Can't really be sure of the timeline in relation to what was going on in Soul Society at that point," Kisuke drummed his fingers against his knee, "but if I had to guess, it was sometime after Aizen staged his death and went into hiding. That was the only period Gin would be able to move around without worrying about Sōsuke shadowing him with Kyōka Suigetsu. Needless to say, I was surprised to not have to fight for my life against him. He didn't say much. Just that he appreciated our situation, and could possibly provide us with something of value that would come in handy."

The captain left off his drumming and stared curiously at his hand. "Naturally we tried to catch him, but he escaped in some way I could never determine. Still have my doubts about that man's soul to this day."

He broke off from his musings and continued. "It was a distraction, that was what we thought. For a while we were all busy rushing around preparing for things while Yoruichi informed us what was going on. The execution was foiled, and Aizen escaped with the hōgyoku. We had almost forgotten Gin's little visits when out of nowhere he contacted us to arrange a meeting one night. Let us know that there were now four _vasto lorde _under their command in _Hueco Mundo. _One of them was a menace from days long past that the original Noble Houses of Soul Society had battled long ago, and that was when Gleipnir came into the conversation."

Byakuya's eyes widened slightly. "Gleipnir," he whispered.

"What?" Ichigo looked uncomprehendingly between them. "What's that?"

"A chain of hope, forged to capture a seemingly unbeatable enemy," the Sixth squad captain replied. "It was the product of our ancestors' collaboration when they found themselves faced with the original _vasto lorde. _Being unable to vanquish that monster, they created the unbreakable bonds of Gleipnir to remove that disease from the world of men." His face fell. "So that was the man we met while Aizen held us captive. We are fortunate he is contained with all the rest."

"Never mind that," Rukia spoke up, troubled at not having firsthand knowledge of this portion. It was still somewhat disparaging how long she had been unconscious while fatal battle raged all around her. "You're telling us that Gin Ichimaru gave you this enchanted fabric?"

"Eventually, yes." Yoruichi stretched her legs out and eased a kink from her neck. "First he just gave us information. We asked him how we could be expected to believe anything he told us, and the man just laughed and said he didn't care what we did. It seemed obvious he was simply hedging his bets in case things didn't go well for his chosen side. He told us things that we had already deduced for ourselves, like the truth about the hōgyoku and Aizen's ultimate goal. Then he came out and gave us clear battle plans and actual devices they had worked on, things that we could verify once the fighting began. Even gave us something called a _Wyrm Sombra _that could be used to hide Hollow soul signatures. They intended to use it to invade Soul Society secretly while the top shinigami were kept occupied fighting in _Hueco Mundo_ and the fake Karakura."

"You knew about the invasion?" Ichigo asked suspiciously.

"Yes, but we couldn't let you know, or it would give everything away. Gin also said once the portal into Nirvana was opened, he and one of the strongest _Espada _would be left behind to defend the gate. He then promised to bring us Gleipnir."

Urahara poured himself another drink. "Naturally, we never informed him what we were intending to do. That would have been foolish. Ichimaru simply stated that he trusted we had come up with a plan of some kind in order to emerge victorious. Smiling bastard actually complimented us." He made a rueful face and downed the liquor in one gulp. Breathing out a sigh, he shook his rosy-cheeked head and grinned. "I believed him, actually. Damned if I know why, but he just struck me as the type of person to do something like this. No idea what his real reasons were, maybe he just liked to keep things interesting. But we arranged for him to meet up with Yoruichi's uncle, Chōjiro Sasakibe, in order to make the drop. In exchange for this, he would be given access into the Seireitei once the fighting started."

At this, both Kuchiki sprang to their feet. Ichigo remained where he sat, apparently too stunned to move.

"Are you serious?" Rukia spit venomously.

Byakuya reached to where his zanpakutō normally hung, only to find it absent. Still, a very clear threat sparked in his eyes.

"Settle down," the genial scientist waved a hand negligently. "It was a concession we were willing to make. Gin would have gotten in eventually, of that I have no doubt. He seemed capable of going wherever he pleased. This was just a way to demonstrate our good faith. And to keep him favorably inclined towards helping us if it looked like things could swing either way."

"But WHY?" Rukia yelled. "Gin was sent to collect the King's Key! If he hadn't done so, Yamamoto would have safely opened the portal and brought in Squad Zero! Then we would have stood a better chance of defeating them openly here!"

"Think about it for a second, Kuchiki-hime," Urahara spoke soothingly, undeterred by the sight of two powerful and angry figures standing across from him. "This was a worst-case scenario we were working on, designed in the event that Aizen had already crushed the Gotei 13 along with Squad Zero and gone on to invade Nirvana. That was the situation we originally envisioned when this plan was concocted. Plus, consider what would have happened if the Zeroes had come through. Soul Society and perhaps the mortal realm would have been devastated by that colossal brawl everyone was expecting to happen. But with the possibility that Gin presented, the most brutal fighting would be contained in Nirvana, where fewer souls would be lost as a result. So it was in our best interests that he get the Key and use it when his buddies could simply march into the King's dimension as soon as it opened. Things didn't go quite according to plan, but they worked out for the best, in my opinion."

Byakuya cast a sharp look down at the caramel-skinned woman seated beside him. She looked troubled, and failed to meet his gaze. "You agreed to this?"

In response, the Shihoin heiress closed her eyes. "This wasn't an easy thing to do," she declared. "We didn't always plan on having the support of Soul Society even after the traitors revealed themselves, you know. You had your strategy to deal with them, and we had ours. We made do with the resources and allies that came to us."

"We couldn't let you know about this, like I said earlier," Urahara jumped in as the Kuchiki noble's brow clouded over. "If Gin proved to be yanking our chain, we still had our original strategy to fall back on. But if his offer was on the level, then that meant there was a very powerful and dangerous element potentially removed from our calculations. If we let you all know Ichimaru was playing both sides, it could have gotten back to Aizen and Gin would have been denied the opportunity to help us. If not outright killed."

"That would have been more a loss to their side than ours," Rukia snapped.

"Not if he was really thinking about betraying them," he retorted quickly. "For us it would have been like a godsend. Were we to get our hands on Gleipnir, it meant we could potentially remove one _vasto lorde _and one captain from the equation. And as you saw, those things were not to be discounted lightly."

"What I _saw _was a man I cared for giving up his life to save us because your precious plan didn't _work out_ as well as you thought!"

_Don't get angry. Not now._

Why _not?_

_Because if you do you might start weeping uncontrollably again! You really want them all to see that one more time?_

No.

_Now is not the time to grieve for Yumichika. Find out what led up to this tragedy, and then you'll know whose ass to kick._

All right. I can do this. I can stay calm.

As she was thinking this, Ichigo suddenly sprang towards Urahara.

It looked as if he tried to hit him, but then the blonde man must have moved. The next thing Rukia knew, Urahara had Ichigo face-down with one arm twisted behind his back and his knee pressed against the young fighter's neck.

"ICHIGO!"

"That was ill-advised, Master Kurosaki," Kisuke breathed as the teen struggled and gasped beneath him. "I have a great deal more experience than you in unarmed combat. It used to be a part of my job before I became a captain."

Yoruichi came over to them. "Kisuke, let him up."

He cocked his head up at her. "So he can attack me again? I think I'll decide for myself when he's ready to go free."

"That's not going to happen. You're overreacting, we both knew this might ha…"

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Immobilized as he was, Rukia was still astonished by the level of rage she could see in her beloved's face. He looked ready to kill someone right now. What the devil had brought this on?

"GET OFF ME, GODDAMMIT!" he yelled, and winced when his captor applied more pressure to the hold. His frantic brown eyes sought out Rukia. "He planned this! Don't you get it, HE PLANNED IT ALL!"

When she was about to move forward to help him, Byakuya suddenly laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. Looking up at him pleadingly, she saw a different sort of person than the icy-cold captain or the aloof lord. This was more a friend looking to help, and that was what she needed at this moment.

So she relented, and her brother turned to look at the other three. "Kurosaki Ichigo, if you can calm yourself, I would like to hear what makes you so certain of this accusation." His slate-grey eyes moved to connect with those of Urahara. "Captain, you have nothing to fear from him. I give my word, so you can let go."

Dressed in baggy clothes with his hair in disarray, Urahara still didn't look anywhere near as comical as the first time she remembered seeing him. He wore an eerily calm expression that did more to unnerve her than any display of emotion.

Nonetheless, he relented, stepping back to allow Kurosaki to clamber to his feet with Yoruichi's help. Ichigo shook off her hand, and there was a flash of dismay from his old teacher. He then walked over to stand beside Rukia, and looked back to where the two redeemed outlaws stood.

"He wanted this to happen. It all makes sense. Soul Society took Aizen's word over his and made him a fugitive. Something's been bothering me for a while. When we were all caught, Aizen admitted that he never intended to destroy Karakura Town, that the whole business of using the hōgyoku to make another Key was bunk! He just tricked us into thinking that." Ichigo lifted a finger and leveled it at Urahara. "But _you_ would have known that! You made the thing, so you knew what it could do and what it couldn't! But even then, he didn't tell any of the captains about it; just let them go on thinking my town was in danger and needed to be protected. Why couldn't you do at least that much, huh?"

Yoruichi sighed. "It was a risk we couldn't…"

"SCREW THAT!" His eyes swung to her now, and the noblewoman bore that accusing gaze calmly. "You could have told _everybody _that without rousing any suspicion! Urahara made the damn thing, he would have known if it could do something like that, and he wouldn't need anyone to leak him information to do it. And Aizen knew it too! Why go to the trouble of making up a lie like that if someone could just come forward and refute it? He was counting on Kisuke to be a vindictive bastard out for his own ends! It's so obvious you were setting up Soul Society to be vulnerable, I can't believe I'm the only one seeing this!"

"Maybe because you're the only one with a whopping half-year of high school education," Kisuke spoke in a bored tone.

Rukia had to admit this was sounding a little ludicrous. "Ichigo, maybe it's going too far to say that Urahara planned any of this, it's more plausible that…"

"No!"

He spun about and grabbed her hands, drawing them up and staring pleadingly at her, like he was begging that she believe him. "Rukia, just think about it. You've got Aizen on one side, Yamamoto on the other. No matter who wins, Urahara loses. Aizen would kill him for being a threat, and Yamamoto would just ignore him because he wasn't! You didn't see his face back on Earth when he complained about not being able to fight the war in Soul Society. He knew Yamamoto would never let him back in! The old shit was just going to use Urahara and then forget about him, because he could! Who'd tell him no? There was only one way Kisuke could be completely certain of ever returning home, and that's if both sides were out of the picture."

Ichigo rounded on the former shopkeeper once more, who affected an air of bland neutrality. "If you think about this plan of his, you see it wasn't designed in case Soul Society lost the war, it worked _only _if they lost! If the Gotei 13 manages to beat Aizen on their own, the plan is useless. If Zero Squad comes through and wins, the plan is _useless. _But even if Gin got the Key to prevent us from opening the door, there's no way Aizen would immediately head through and leave the Gotei 13 at his back, especially not Yamamoto. Plus there was only one person who could be counted on to get rid of Yamamoto for good, and that's Aizen. He _planned _on Aizen's crew being smart enough and strong enough to beat them all! Then once they've butchered the other captains and gone to do the same to the King, Kisuke locks the door behind them! So _who does this plan benefit in the end? _Just HIM, KISUKE URAHARA!"

There was quiet for a while.

Then Urahara chuckled.

Immediately Ichigo jumped for him again, but even as Byakuya gripped his arm forcefully the target of his rage simply vanished.

"My, my."

The voice came from right behind her, causing Rukia to catch her breath. Ichigo spun about and froze. Before she could do the same, Urahara's arms draped lazily over her shoulders, and she felt his chin rest lightly atop her crown.

"Do you really think I'm _that _clever?"

He wasn't denying it. That was the first thought that went through her mind.

The second was to think of how very similar this felt to being held by Gin.

Kurosaki had a stricken expression on his face. Off to the side, she saw Byakuya's eyes narrow with anger at seeing his sister being used as a shield. Even Yoruichi looked none too pleased by this situation.

"Stop behaving like a fool, Kisuke. It isn't helping matters," their hostess snapped.

"Sorry," and she felt him move away from her. "Survival instincts, you know how they are. Just thought Rukia-sama might protect me from her man's thoughtless ire."

She turned her head to catch a glimpse of her grinning shadow. Looking at him there, smiling blithely, Rukia found herself suspecting it might all be true. What if every offer of help this man ever gave us was done with the intention of not only bringing down Aizen, but the entire ruling order of Seireitei as well?

Certain facts began to dawn upon her.

Urahara knew she had a link to Aizen, but neglected to inform anyone else of it.

Urahara hid the hōgyoku inside her. To keep it safe, or to keep himself safe? Just how did Aizen know to target her instead of him, anyway?

Urahara turned Ichigo into a Hollow-hybrid. Was that just to save her, or also to make a warrior so powerful he could possibly challenge whichever one of the powerhouses was left standing after the war, Aizen or Yamamoto?

Urahara no doubt hated the Central 46 Chambers for condemning him without cause, just as she once had. Now they were all dead.

Urahara knew Karakura Town wasn't in any danger. But he didn't bother to tell them that.

Urahara was the one who sent them all into Hueco Mundo. They did it to rescue Orihime, but could it be he expected Soul Society to send captains after them? If those captains were captured or killed, further weakening the fighting strength of the Gotei 13, Yamamoto would be more likely to go for the Key as a preventative measure.

Urahara remained outside of the fighting until it was over. All the people who posed the greatest threats to him were removed from consideration. The only ones left were those inclined to look favorably on him, whether owing to his friendship in the past or his association with Yoruichi.

Yourichi…

Of course, she could vouch for him! She wouldn't have permitted something like that to happen. All they had to do to quell these doubts was to ask her.

Rukia looked over at the exotic beauty dressed in queenly raiment. "Lady Shihoin… that wasn't the way of it… was it?"

She expected a firm denial, or impassioned outrage.

Instead, Yoruichi simply turned her eyes away.

"I won't lie and say a part of me isn't happy things worked out this way," the woman said softly. "But I'm through looking at the past and wondering what I could have done differently. Living on the run, after a while, I started to worry less about myself and more for the people I left behind. They were still in danger, and not just from Sōsuke! The 46 and Yamamoto could order them imprisoned or killed just because they were close to me!"

Her chin came up, and there was pride to be seen there. "I hated that. It was like I was living free at their expense. It pissed me off so much I would have done anything to make it stop! That's why my part in the plan was not just to get the Lock away from Aizen, but to remain behind 'til after the door was sealed to ensure no one got through. I fully expected to die to see that wish come true. Instead someone else took my place. Now for the first time in perhaps my whole life, there isn't some threat hanging over my head. No ruler judging my family to see if we're properly loyal to him, no old super-soldiers waiting to thrash me if I don't do as I'm told, and no megalomaniacs out to punish me for what my father did. Doesn't that sound like a nice way to live from now on?"

"Byakuya," and his lover turned to him then. "We've already both agreed that things can't go on the way they did in the past. The Gotei 13 is being restructured even now. The Rukongai is in ruins, and once the rest of Soul Society is brought back from your safe-dimension, they'll need a new place to live. We can give it to them, but it doesn't have to be the primitive bygone excuse for a world it was before! I didn't think I would survive to see what came about after the war was over, but since I have, it's got to become a better afterlife than the one we grew up in! Who says anybody has to eke out a meaningless existence in the dirt anymore? Every soul should be granted the opportunity to have peace and contentment, regardless of whether they can swing a soul cutter, or maybe even precisely because they can! What's to stop us? We've got plenty of time to make this place a real haven for the souls of the dead, not just a dump to sit around in waiting to pass away and be reincarnated. We should strive for more now that we have the option to do so!"

"Everything we did was for the good of Soul Society," Kisuke sniffed as he strolled around the room. "It's a new world, everybody. Not just here, but in Hueco Mundo too. And that means things will be different on Earth as well." He sounded at ease. Rukia noticed, though, he never turned his back on them.

"So, what?" Ichigo growled suspiciously. "Now _you _guys run the show, is that it? Instead of Yamamoto, everybody turns to Kisuke and Company? That's your reward for a century of getting dumped on?"

"Me?" Urahara scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Hardly anybody knows me, and the ones who do probably aren't my biggest fans. No, if anybody is going to lead us in this soul shindig that's coming, it's a person respected and even revered by the nobility, the shinigami, and the common populace. Someone with a reputation for virtue and forthrightness. Not that it's final, but personally I cast my vote for the man in the scarf." He turned his head then. "You, Lord-Captain Byakuya Kuchiki."

Her brother-in-law didn't look as though he knew how to take that statement. "You think _I _am the one to usher in an era of change?"

"I do." And Yoruichi laid a gentle hand on his arm. "You're a better man than you might think, and certainly good enough to not only see where problems might lie, but also work to correct them. Our clans have the most power. Wouldn't it be proper to demonstrate that in a way that allows everyone else to prosper alongside us?"

He gave her a level, searching look. "You think to take advantage of this catastrophe to overturn the very basis of our society? How could such a thing ever appeal to me?"

"Our ancestors made the world like this," she retorted. "They then spent several thousand years trying to keep it from ever changing. Look where it got us. The woman you took as your wife had to abandon her sister because survival in the Rukongai looked impossible otherwise. Where was the 'appeal' in that for _her?"_

Both Byakuya and Rukia stiffened at this. But Yoruichi was not done.

"Shinigami are souls who have power. We can alter the very fabric of this dimension, the same way those old death gods did originally! It doesn't have to be just about fighting Hollows and purifying souls, now we can look out for the dead once they're here, and the living as well! We can give peace to the departed, and justice to the living. Our eyes see what theirs cannot, and we can do something about the ills they labor under. Once ages past we were gods to them, providing reward and punishment as we saw fit. It was up to each of us how we behaved, and many took advantage of that. Yamamoto came and clamped down on everything. He put a stop to the abuses of our power over the mortals, I'll admit, but he also declared we couldn't help them anymore outside of eradicating evil spirits! Now we can comfort the living so much more, at the times when their world has failed them. Whether in terms of justice or healing, there is a great deal we have to offer them. What's wrong with having people benefit from our strength more than was allowed in the past?"

He still looked unconvinced, but Rukia had to admit she saw some merit to the idea. Mortals did have it rough most of the time, and there were many ways shinigami could help them without even making their presence known. Everything from healing their bodies of illness to rescuing them from deadly peril. There was a term she remembered hearing while wearing a physical form: 'guardian angel'. It certainly had a less grim implication than 'death god'.

In spite of her remaining concerns about how things had come to this point, she decided to speak up. "Nii-sama, I believe she has a point. Our powers could be put to better use, especially now that the Hollows are in disarray and not an imminent threat. I as much as anyone know where the flaws in Soul Society can lead to. With the situation we are in, change is needed. And for the better."

"What if we don't want anybody's help?"

They all looked at Ichigo, who stood with his arms crossed scowling blackly. "Us _mere mortals _might lead shitty lives, but the last thing we need is a spiritual police force most folks can't even see trailing along and blasting us whenever we do something they don't like. That sounds like a sure way for things to go bad real quick."

"Better to try something new than leave things the way they are out of fear," Urahara spoke archly. "Not everyone has a life as good as you do back home. You think they deserve to die in misery and fear simply because other humans can't take the time to help them?"

"I just don't like the thought of anybody ruling over me from the shadows," the youth bit out scathingly.

"You didn't have a problem when the King of Soul Society governed how you would spend your days after death."

"I didn't _know _about that then!"

"Well, now you do! And we all know you won't stay quiet about it if we start to do things wrong. You've got the strength to back up your opinions, why not lend a hand instead of simply barking at us angrily?"

"Listen, mastermind, you've still got a lot of explaining to do and…!"

"ENOUGH!"

Rukia yelled loud enough to cut through the din, and once she had their attention the icy maiden put on a look of fierce determination. "We still have some time to decide for ourselves what we want to do. The souls of the Rukongai and the living of Karakura won't return for at least another two days now that we are working on it. Before then, we should prepare for them to be greeted with something more hospitable than a disaster zone. On that much, at least, can we all agree?"

There were some nods, and she took that as a good sign.

"The other interested parties need to be taken into account as well. The future of Soul Society and the shinigami on a whole shouldn't be decided by a handful of people sitting in a secluded manor. That's something I learned for myself. We should focus on recovery instead of worrying about who's in charge at all times. I for one have had enough points raised and answered today, and right now my shift in the medical camps still awaits me. If there's nothing else, I will return to it."

Without waiting for their response, she bowed to her sibling and Yoruichi. Rukia then gave Kurosaki a look that clearly demanded he accompany her out.

He responded by shoving his hands into his pockets and glowering, but moved towards the door all the same. "My family's waiting anyway. I need to check up on them."

As she turned to follow, Kisuke raised his voice.

"Rukia-sama, if I may ask you one question?"

She paused and waited for him to speak without turning her head.

"Just to satisfy my curiosity, whatever became of Ichimaru?"

A prickle of cold went up her spine, and she strove to master herself before responding in a voice as chilly as she felt.

"He was alive when I last saw him. Anything else is not my concern. Your comrade is dead for all I care."

Together with Ichigo, she then left the room.

* * *

Misato Ochi looked up and smiled. "No, thank you."

"Eh?" The little man in the black robes before her gave a start. "I… pardon?"

"I said no." And she took a step back, shaking her head. "No memory erase, or anything of the sort. I'm a teacher, I don't freely give up on beneficial knowledge. Goes against union rules."

Standing in front of her home, Karin watched this showdown with interest. Her unofficial housemates clustered around her, along with Kon and a few new faces. Tatsuki Arisawa had arrived in the company of a tearful Orihime Inoue, accompanied by a girl named Mahana Natsui and another who hadn't introduced herself, being firmly wrapped around a very pissed-off looking female spirit with only one arm. Kunieda Ryō seemed very suspicious of the two hulking twin guard-spirits that accompanied their mistress, and was currently holding the arm of Ichigo's friend Sado Yasutora. The dark-skinned giant looked as impassive as usual, but Karin thought she detected a flush to his cheeks, like he wasn't used to being this close to a girl for whatever reason.

The shinigami, who had introduced himself as Hanatarō Yamada, looked rather uncertain as to how to proceed here.

"I'm sorry, but… this is how we operate. Mortals mustn't be given knowledge… of the afterlife, it's against the rules. Please, it won't hurt a bit, you'll just be a little groggy afterwards!"

He took a step forward.

"DENIED!"

Misato whacked him on the forehead, and Yamada made a noise halfway between gurgle and whimper before sitting down quickly. Blinking with astonishment, he nursed his injury and gaped up at his assailant.

"There's no advantage to me forgetting about the existence of spirits both good and bad," the public educator bent down to loom over him with a very dire expression, and the death god quailed. "Forgetting all this won't make me any safer if I happen to run across another of those Hollow monsters. Information is power! Now I know to run away as fast as I can, whereas if I thought it was my first time seeing one, I might be curious enough to stick around and find out what it is. And what's wrong with knowing there's an afterlife with shinigami in it? I'm not about to tell anyone. If I did, they'd fire me, regardless of tenure. So instead I propose we simply not inform the public about what we know."

She turned to regard her students. "Anyone disagree with me?"

Tatsuki blew out her breath and made a disgusted noise. "My head's off-limits to invaders. Plus they'd just have to zap me again every time I caught Ichigo running around in his shinigami duds. Sensei's got a good point, we wouldn't be any safer, and I for one can deal with the things I've learned." She put an arm around Orihime's shoulders. "I'm happy the way I am."

Inoue returned her friend's embrace. "The memory-charm isn't perfect anyway, it wore off in my case."

"I think it's pretty interesting, actually," Ryō said, and hugged Chad a bit more securely. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a noncommittal grunt. Karin swore he looked bashful.

Michiru Ohgawa shifted nervously. "If everyone else remembers… I wouldn't want to be left out. And I don't like the thought of someone tampering with my memories!"

Standing awkwardly in his hard-won school uniform, Keigo Asano cleared his throat. "Well, if it's all the same to you… I wouldn't mind forgetting some of the things that happened, so if I could get some of that memory erase…"

Misato spun to point at him. "FAILED IN ALL COURSES!" she declared.

"I TAKE IT BACK!" Asano wailed, and collapsed tearfully while Mizuiro stepped on his head in a friendly and polite manner.

"I LOVE ghosts!" the nameless redhead girl proclaimed while her perch strove ineffectively to dislodge her. The furious object of her affection rounded on the muscular man-servants.

"Why are you just _standing there? _GET HER OFF ME, ALREADY!"

Both paled visibly. "But she b-burns with an unnatural aura, milady," one of them stuttered.

Their mistress then made a face that caused even Karin to edge away from the vicinity nervously, and the twins fell over themselves trying to pry the vocal teen off.

Observing this spectacle with interest, she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head to see a rather flustered-looking Kon.

"Umm, Karin, maybe you shouldn't… pay any attention to that."

The girl didn't fail to detect how his own eyes were rooted on the fight with an intensity bordering on perversion, and she casually elbowed him in the gut. The breath left his lungs with a whoosh and he doubled over coughing.

"Take your own advice, _Aniki,"_ she said.

In spite of this, Karin remained close by her defender, just in case things went sour for any reason.

The high-school teacher then turned back to the shinigami, who had pulled himself off the pavement.

"We're all in agreement. Thanks but no thanks."

There was a chorus of obedient affirmative heads nodding. Karin was rather impressed with how well everyone was taking this. Having only recently survived what amounted to an alien invasion, they all seemed none the worse for wear. As for little Hanatarō, he clearly could use a lesson in self-esteem.

"I… I'll report back to my superiors. Maybe if Rukia-sama asks her brother to intervene, there won't be a problem from Soifon-taichou. I'm very sorry… if I disturbed you today. Please forgive me!" He bowed forward miserably, and Ochi gave him a pat on the head.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Shorty! You seem an okay sort. Just let us know when you're sending us all back to Planet Earth, right?"

Yamada came back up and nodded eagerly. "Of course! We should be ready to complete the transversion process in another day or so, after the other residents of your town return from where we hid them. You'll receive official notice beforehand. Thank you for your cooperation!"

He then turned and scampered down the lane.

"Wow," Tatsuki murmured. "This place is like a government bureaucracy. I hope the ones running the show are more competent than our politicians."

Orihime turned to her. "Don't say that, Tatsuki-chan! Yamada-san is a very dependable person really!"

As she said this, there came a cry from far off, and all turned to see Hanatarō trip and sprawl gracelessly in the dirt. They watched him hobble upright and go limping away.

"Yeah, I can't wait to be dead," Tatsuki jeered.

"At least they brought us food," Michiru spoke up. "Is anyone else hungry?"

"Starving," Mahana declared.

"Everybody back inside, then!" Misato clapped her hands. She cast a look towards their spectral companions. "Will the three of you join us for lunch, er…?"

"Kūkaku Shiba." The scantily-dressed lady managed to look much more relieved now that her burden had been transferred into the care of the brutish bodyguards. "And sure, we'll stick around." She nodded up to the roof. "You can tell your boyfriend to come down, the shinigami are all gone."

"Oh, right!" She turned and cupped a hand to her mouth. "OI! Ishida, darling! You can relax, now, nobody's going to hurt us."

A moment later, the white-haired bowman dropped down to join them. Karin thought he seemed less at ease now that he was on the same level as his determined paramour. She caught his eye and grinned up at him. Ryūken's frown dipped a little further.

"Did your father say anything about when he might be returning?"

"Nope. You're still our guardian," she tossed off lazily, putting her hands behind her head and smirking even wider.

"And I couldn't be happier!" Ochi trilled as she once again suction-cupped herself to the dapper gentleman. With a look of intense discomfort, he proceeded to drag her indoors.

The rest of the group had already gone inside, but as the tall woman in the burnoose followed her attendants, Karin reached up and touched her hand. Kūkaku glanced down at her.

"Do you know my brother Ichigo?"

She gave a nod.

"Is he… all right?"

Shiba looked at her for a moment, then smiled gently in a way that made her much more approachable. "Your brother's safe. I spoke to him earlier today. He'll be by to visit you soon. Your father's with him now, and they're discussing a few things. You should ask them about it when you see them."

Relief settled on the young girl's heart. "Thank you. I will."

Kūkaku squatted down and examined her closely. It was a little unpleasant being peered at like this, but she covered up for it by giving the oddly-dressed woman a perusal of her own.

The spirit jerked her head off to one side. "Do you know there's a man in a cape tied up with ropes trying to crawl out your window?"

Karin looked where indicated. "Shoot. How'd he get out of the closet?" She gave a weary sigh. "Help me round him up, will you? We might as well feed him, at least."

They then went to take care of the Hero of Justice.

* * *

"That could have gone better," Rukia declared as she and Ichigo walked down the lanes away from the Shihoin estate. They had begun with a brisk pace, but slowed somewhat as time went by. There hadn't been many occasions where they could be alone lately. A walk back to the hospital might be all that was permitted. It would have to do.

He hadn't responded to her attempt at conversation. Glancing up at him curiously, she found herself disturbed by the look of dismay crossing his brow.

A gentle hand rose to touch his face, and he finally looked down. Upon seeing how concerned she was, a small but certain smile dawned. Ichigo rested his fingers against her own and murmured, "Sorry. I'm just worried about a lot of things."

"Tell me about them," Rukia pronounced firmly. She regarded him intently when he seemed about to wave the comment off. "If something is troubling you, I want to know it. This could be the best time to find a solution for it."

Ichigo hesitated, eyeing her in a way that might be called fearful. The young man then screwed up his courage and proceeded with the biggest concern first. "I'll be going back home eventually."

"Yes," his soulmate nodded, bringing his hand down and proceeding to walk with their fingers intertwined. "And?"

"I know you're going to stay here for a while. I mean, it's your home, you went through hell to make it that way, but… are you sure you'll be safe here?"

The last part came out in a rush. It made her glad to see him so distressed for her sake. But this, at least, was something she could reassure him of.

"I think it's safe to say I have more friends than enemies in Soul Society at this point. We are as well-protected as can be expected reasonably. And I'm more than capable of defending myself, you'll recall."

He ambled along beside her, keeping his long legs restricted to a shuffle for her sake. "I really don't trust Urahara right now. If the Vaizard are working with him, what's to keep them from getting the Hollows under control and leading them back here to try and take over things if Byakuya doesn't go along with his plans?"

"For starters, I don't think Yoruichi would let him," she responded. "You might not believe this, but I think she and Nii-sama have a history together that goes beyond simply exchanging courtesies. Haven't you seen the way they are together?"

A frown crinkled his brow "You mean her flirting with him? That's no big news, she does that with anybody she likes to tease. Hell, she did it with me when we were training alone together!"

Ichigo looked embarrassed. It was simply too good an opportunity to pass up. "I hope that you were able to restrain yourself, young man."

He hunched his shoulders and sweated obviously. "We're getting off-topic. Soifon's never going to forgive you. And once Isane finishes the preparations for resealing your memories, you won't even remember why. Don't you think that sounds kind of freaky?"

Rukia patted his arm in a soothing manner. "I agree, there will be some confusion afterwards. But there will be more than enough of that spread around so no one should really notice on my part. The news is circulating that the defection of Izuru and Hisagi was the result of a spell cast upon them. That's mostly true, if not the whole of it. While I normally advocate against keeping secrets from people, I think in this case it would cause far more harm than good to hear what really went on behind the scenes. Can you see that, Ichigo?"

He looked about to say something, then stopped himself. Slumping along beside her, the substitute shinigami looked bowed down by the weight of the secrets they now shared. "Yeah. The captains didn't really have to argue very hard to convince me we should keep the truth about Unohana under wraps. It's creepy how universally loved she seemed to be, and not just in the Fourth. Everybody had a good word to say about her! She did so much for so many people… it's hard to believe that beneath it all there was…"

The teenager seemed to be struggling for the right words. Reaching out, she laid her palm against his heart.

Ichigo drew up short and glanced down at her, the look of astonishment at this intimate contact swiftly fading away to relief. Impulsively, he reached down and hugged her close. The maiden slid her own arms around him and rested her head against his chest. His fingers teased through her hair. Neither felt concerned about who might see them like this.

The real problem lay within.

"Can you still feel… it?" Rukia mumbled into the fabric of his _shihakusho_.

She could feel his breathing alter slightly, and then relax. "Yes. He hasn't really spoken to me since Byakuya lifted the seal. At first I thought, maybe we should leave it bound, then there would be at least one world where I didn't have to worry about him breaking loose. But I gave it some thought, and it just seemed cowardly. Like I might not fight him as hard if I knew I could always run to Soul Society if I ever wanted to get away. If I'm ever going to be rid of him, I want it to be because of what I…" He paused and drew a deep breath. "I mean, what _we _accomplish together."

Rukia looked up at him, and was struck by how mature and, well, _manly _he looked at that moment. She might have been tempted to do a few things there if a nagging worry hadn't chosen that moment to leap up on her.

"Ichigo?"

"Yeah?"

The princess fidgeted a little in his embrace. "Do you consider it cowardly, me running away from my memories like this?"

"No!" He didn't even have to think about it. "Hell, no! I know what you and Renji went through just to do this! And I understand why you didn't tell me you were going to beforehand, I mean, there's no way I would have let you get sentenced to death again for no good reason."

"I considered that an unlikely conclusion for them to reach," she admitted grudgingly, "but only if Renji and I made an appearance. And I hope you can understand why we were both willing to risk that."

A rueful grin. "I do. They were your classmates, your comrades, really. It's easy for me to see how memories like that would be more important to you than the bullshit deal they got put through. I'm glad it turned out like this, actually. And I sure don't think it's cowardly wanting to forget." He gave a quick shake of his head. "Lieutenant Kotetsu certainly deserves to have some peace. She did save us both, after all."

Rukia couldn't help but agree. She remembered how devastated the woman had been immediately following her mentor and mother-figure's imprisonment beyond the dimensions. It was only the recognition of how many people were in need of her help that had stirred that valiant medic to action. When they had approached the captains with the idea of recasting the enchantment over Retsu's remaining seeds, Rukia had been surprised when Isane agreed to help on the condition that she be granted a sealing of her own memories.

Though they had all consented to keep Unohana's treachery a closely-guarded secret, her former subordinate confessed to being deeply troubled by what had been revealed that day. Thus she was willing to apply the appropriate binding to Rukia and the lieutenants, provided that a memory wipe be performed on her for the incident in question. In this way, she would not have to live with the guilt of knowing that the woman all of her fellows believed had sacrificed herself to defeat Aizen was in truth the one responsible for so many deaths that had taken place then and throughout the ages.

"It seems the least we could do for her," Rukia admitted. "Since Isane wants to remain a part of the Gotei 13, it would be best to remember her time already spent with us as being something more than a witch's dupe. These few days lost out of centuries won't be missed by her, I imagine."

His face grew thoughtful. "Come to think of it, how much are _you_ going to forget? If that spell eliminates everything up to a certain point in your past, does that mean you won't remember all the stuff that happened?"

She thought about this. "If memory serves…" A look at him told her that he got the joke and wasn't impressed, so she gave a huff and carried on. "I will forget everything that occurred from the moment the spell was last lifted."

"So not what happened in _Hueco Mundo_." He sounded very anxious on that part. It was touching, really.

"No. I will not forget what I said to you." Her deep purple orbs trained on his face, watching him in a way that looked different to Kurosaki than anyone else in his life. "Even if I did, my feelings would not change. I still love you, Ichigo."

The grin that broke over his face was blinding. He looked about to make a response, but then something else dawned upon him.

"But that means… you won't remember… I mean, about Yumichika and what he…"

He stopped talking at that point.

Rukia looked down at the ground. She hadn't let go of him, but still there was less peace and comfort to be found in her now.

"That is the one thing that makes me regret this choice," she murmured. "I would give anything to be able to remember his last moments with me somehow. It is a treasure that should be cherished. But the sacrifice of it…"

And she drew her sleeve across her eyes, refusing to let the tears come out over this decision. There had been enough of that. "I think he might have understood. Yumichika loved the life-or-death combat he found in the Gotei 13, but he would have disliked the idea of people being executed without any means to defend themselves. I can just hear him now saying, 'That's so ugly'. So I decided to try for a more beautiful solution, in honor of the memories I wasn't risking, the ones that showed those men at their best. Ultimately, I have to convince myself that will be enough."

Ichigo smiled fondly down at her.

"You really make me wish I could have known the guy more."

Rukia chuckled of a sudden.

"What?"

She waved a hand dismissively, but her eyes were sparkling again when she looked up at him. "I was just thinking. If the two of you had interacted more often, it would have invariably led to you trying to kill one another."

"C'mon," he grinned ruefully. "It wouldn't have been that bad."

"Yes it would have." And she began walking down the path once more, hooking her arm into his as they went. "Trust me, Ichigo. He was a man of many mysteries, but you never had to doubt if he really liked a person. It was so obvious you'd have to be a fool not to notice."

"Are you calling me a fool?"

She didn't answer, only kept right on walking. But the smile on her face was enough to put a fierce scowl on his own. Rukia decided to change the subject. "Actually, coming back to your mistrust of Urahara, there is something I believe we can do to make us all feel safe. It will require some subterfuge on our part, though."

"Subterfuge?" He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like fun. Count me in."

* * *

"I appreciate your doing this," Neliel spoke to Renji as she followed him down the walkway.

"S'okay," he shot back over his shoulder. "I was meaning to come by anyway. Ikkaku says there's some choice liquor squirreled away here, he asked me to pick it up after the funeral so we can commemorate for real."

"Does he have a problem with entering the homes of the dead?"

His shoulders tensed visibly. "It's more to do with how the place looked while the guy was alive. Trust me, you'd better prepare yourself."

"I see."

They came to the door in question. Emblazoned on it was the kanji for '5'. Neliel stopped beside him and studied the portal. For his part, Renji put his hands in his pockets and tried not to stare at her.

"Would you mind if I asked what you wanted to see Yumichika's place for?" he asked suddenly. It wasn't that he was trying to strike up a conversation with the beautiful _arrancar_, but his tendency to lapse into awkward silences around lovely women was something that man in particular had delighted in teasing Renji over, so he felt it would be a fitting tribute to Ayasegawa that he seek to change his ways.

She tilted her head to one side. "I was deeply impressed with the tale of his actions, and by stories of the warrior himself. It's unfortunate that I never had the chance to meet him in person. I thought maybe if I saw his home, it would be a sort of tribute." The reformed Hollow looked over at him then. "And I am the one who originally located Ulquiorra. At the very least I should pay my respects to a person who died to see him destroyed."

That sort of reasoning served to remind Renji that for all her calm and sensible bearing, Neliel remained a Hollow. Yoruichi's suggestion that she be made a liaison officer to _Hueco Mundo, _if not a full-fledged captain of the new All-Soul Guard Divisions, had certainly raised a few hackles. And seemingly not without good cause. It would be wise to keep that in mind from here on out. "Ah, yeah, well. Do you want to go inside?"

The lady gave a nod, and he slid open the door. While Renji paused to remove his sandals, Neliel proceed ahead. Being barefoot still, there was no need for her to observe formalities. He just hoped that she wasn't dismayed by the outlandish confines in which Yumichika had housed himself. No one else had been allowed entry to this room under threat of death by Madarame, but since they were here at the Third seat's invitation…

There came a clacking sound. Looking up, he saw the white-robed woman pass through the peacock-picture bead strands that separated the waiting area from the main living quarters. Renji stood up and proceeded to follow her.

A slight flicker of magic on his senses caused him to draw up short.

Uncertain of what it might mean, he was surprised when two of the glass beads which made up the peacock's tail feathers glowed, and from out of them came a pair of dark shapes in flight.

Hell butterflies, Abarai realized. They came fluttering towards him, but while one of the messenger spirits passed right by, the other flew straight to alight on his shoulder.

_-Hello, Renji-_

The lieutenant's jaw dropped as he recognized the voice of this house's deceased occupant.

_-Do you like this? Little trick about sleeping spells that Rukia-chan taught me. Finally, something kidō is good for!-_

_-If you've received this, then I am dead. And since that is the case, there are a few things I think you should be made aware of. It's all written down for you to examine. Look in the bottom support bar of the second tapestry on the right as you walk in. Take what's hidden there, and don't show it to another soul, or I'll come back from the dead and murder you. Okay? Stay beautiful, my boy! And don't get tattoos anywhere you couldn't show your mother. Farewell!-_

Somewhat shaken by this, Renji stood there for a few seconds while the butterfly flapped off. Then, realizing what had just happened, he quickly moved through the glass curtain and entered the pasha's palace. Just as he remembered, there were exotic draperies, silk curtains and plush pillows scattered all about. A divining pool took up the pleasure chamber's center, and Neliel was busy examining it and the velvet-roped swing that hung overhead.

"This is certainly different from the officer's quarters in Hueco Mundo," she murmured, absorbed in splashing a hand in the water and making the rose petals on its surface go dancing about.

"Yeah? What's that like?" he asked while hunting around the room with his eyes. Second tapestry, on the right… bingo.

" 'Austere' would be the best word. Aizen felt anything colorful and lively wouldn't fit in to the general mood of Hueco Mundo. He had a very strict sense of aesthetics."

"I know what you mean." Renji casually strolled over to the area Yumichika's message had indicated. "When he was a captain, the guy never invited you into his quarters without offering you a cup of tea. It was like an obsession with him. Never really knew what to make of it."

"Hmm."

While her back was still turned, he inspected the riot of colors and shapes that comprised the tapestry. Noting how the bar which kept it straight on the bottom had metal knobs on either end, Abarai twisted one of them. Sure enough, it came off. Moving as quietly as possible, he tilted the pole, and a rolled-up stack of parchment slid out.

"Would you like some help?"

He jumped, spinning about and hiding the communiqué up his sleeve. "Huh?"

"In finding your friend's alcohol." She indicated around the room. "There seem to be several bottles in this place."

"No, that's okay, I've got it. I was just thinking about stuff that happened here, you know."

Neliel regarded him with a languid stare. He realized that he sounded rather frantic. Catching sight of the saké bottle in question, he quickly moved over and plucked it off a cabinet. "Actually, if you want some time to look around here yourself, I could wait outside, give you a little privacy, like that, really…"

An anxious sweat was making the armpits of his yukata damp. This was further accentuated when she continued to look at him like he had suddenly sprouted a second head.

Finally the _arrancar _lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Whatever you prefer." She then indicated backwards with her head. "Is that swing safe to use?"

"Swing?" He blinked and peered where indicated. "Oh, yeah, I guess. Well, actually, to be honest… I have no idea."

"Then I'll have to find out." So decided, she stepped up to the edge of the pool, grasped one of the red ropes and swung herself onto the seat. Leisurely rocking back and forth, she kept her cool sandy eyes upon him, but a small grin came to her lips. "I think I'm getting a better grasp of this warrior's personality. Maybe I could meditate here a bit. Will you be outside for a while?"

"Yeah. Sure thing. Call me whenever you're ready."

She closed her eyes and proceeded to lean back, slowly rocking in her perch while stretching out her legs. Considering how little she was actually wearing outside that coat, there was a lot to say for simply standing here and observing this quiet display. But after a bit of staring entranced at this sight, Renji came back to himself, remembering his new reason for being here. With that he moved back to the curtained archway and came out into the bright sunny afternoon.

There was no one about to be seen from his perch three stories up the side of the building. No big surprise, members of the Eleventh's officer corps who had their quarters here rarely ever used them, preferring to bed down in the barracks with the other grunts. This meant he could be assured of some privacy to learn just what it was Ayasegawa had thought so important that it should survive his death.

Sitting down by the door, he unfurled the parchment. It immediately became apparent that what he was looking at was a diary of sorts. There were several sheaves, and most appeared quite old. But the one on top looked brand new, and it was this he started reading first.

_-Dear Renji-_

_-Greetings from beyond the grave! If that isn't the case, you'll never read this, for reasons that you may or may not figure out. Truth be told, I've always admired your dedication to self-improvement, but the one area you never seemed to focus on was your mental capabilities. Oh, well, maybe you were planning on brushing the old gray matter off after you became a captain. Not like you need much smarts to get ahead in our profession, right?-_

_-What I'm trying to say is, you're a moron, Renji.-_

Abarai squinted at the characters, trying to see if he had misread them.

_-No, you didn't misread that. Try taking off your shades if you forgot, it still won't change the fact that you're an idiot. I have been watching you blunder around for almost forty years now. You're certainly not the same pushover punk you were when Ikkaku took you on as his student, but for all that you've gained a ban-kai and become a lieutenant, it still hasn't brought you closer to what you really wanted.-_

_-I'm talking about Rukia, in case you haven't guessed.-_

A shiver went up his tattooed spine, and for a moment he couldn't keep reading. Mastering himself at last, he proceeded to focus on the rest.

_-Your relationship is no better and possibly WORSE than it was the day I met you! Good grief, man, I'M closer to getting into her robes than you are! And unless someone up and tells you this, you'll never admit it to yourself. You WANT Rukia! You NEED Rukia! You LOVE Rukia!-_

_-Take some time and let that revelation sink in.-_

He did.

_-Good. Now, let me be the bearer of bad tidings. You waited too long, you slob. She's found someone to love. And since you're too ignorant to have picked up on the signs yourself, I'll spell it out for you. It's not you. It's that strawberry-head, Ichigo Kurosaki.-_

_-Don't think I'm glad to be the one to tell you this. In point of fact, I'm furious that you put me in this situation. If I'm not dead, you'd better watch your back, because I might just kill you if this goes on much longer. Still, if you're here, that means your life is not in any danger. For all the good that sad, sorry, ugly excuse for a life may be.-_

_-Are you mad at me now, Renji? Do you hate me?-_

_-Not as much as I hate myself.-_

_-I'm not beautiful.-_

_-Not by a long-shot.-_

_-Do you have any idea how galling that is for me? No, probably not. But the reason I'm so disgusted with you is because you remind me of myself, the deplorable way you treat your skin notwithstanding. Whenever I look at you, I see my own ghastly future written large for me to see. If you are a complete idiot, then so am I. But in my case, I thought that I was being clever, Renji. I thought I had a wonderful plan that would not only keep me from behaving in an ugly manner, but get me what I wanted all the same. And I have you to thank for it.-_

_-A friend should never do what you've done to me.-_

_-Confused yet? Well, then, let me take you on a journey into the past. Do you remember the party at the Thirteenth division headquarters that led up to the Battle of Hollow Bog?-_

_-What am I thinking, of course you don't, you were completely shit-faced drunk! So let your old buddy Yumichika let you in on a few things that happened that night…-_

_

* * *

_

There was a table on fire, and the flames were spreading up the wall. A flock of geese had been let loose and was adding their terrified honking to the general tumult. Feathers were flying through the air, along with several bodies. Teeth and blood littered the floor, not to mention pools of vomit and other stuff best left unmentioned. Explosions, screams, CHAOS!

What a boring party, Yumichika thought to himself.

While out hitting the bars, he had been prevailed upon by his junior associate Renji to collar up a few of their rowdier cohorts from the Eleventh and join him on a trip to the Thirteenth division grounds. The kid had been slightly tipsy when he had this fabulous idea, but there hadn't been much of a reason to refuse the request. Nothing was happening tonight anyway. And it was a lovely moon out, lighting the clouds in alluring displays. A walk over to the Thirteenth would at least give him a chance to appreciate the view.

Plus he hated to see all that energy and effort Abarai was exhibiting go to waste. So with a few well-placed smiles and soft suggestions, the Fifth seat had convinced a fair amount of their colleagues that they should follow little Renji wherever he might lead. Doesn't matter how drunk you are. In their squad, you know better than to turn down Yumichika Ayasegawa when he smiled like that. The alternative was being soundly beaten to within an inch of your misbegotten life.

And so here they were.

Much to Yumichika's surprise, once the timid little mice in the Thirteenth had realized that they were being invaded not by an army of Hollows, but a selection of their fellow shinigami, they had proven quite amenable to the idea of a party. Their own co-Fifth seats were a couple of notorious drinkers anyway, and while the tiny blonde girl and her ape-like companion had initially demanded the partygoers remove themselves from the vicinity, it hadn't taken long for them to engage in a ferocious drinking match, downing jugs of kidō-mixed drinks while the rest of the crowd urged them on with cries of, "Chug, chug, chug!"

It was a stupendous display of hearty comradeship among those who routinely faced death every day of their afterlives. And as stated, Ayasegawa found it rather boring.

His mood this night was in no way lightened by all this merrymaking. He suspected that the real reason they were all here was not to foster strong ties between separate divisions, but for Renji to get a peek at his sweetheart from the academy. The poor man was head-over-heels, completely besotted with her. But since she had been adopted into the noble Kuchiki clan, there had sprung up in the boy's mind that in order to prove himself worthy of her, he would have to become the only thing that trumps nobility. And that's a shinigami captain.

Well, good luck to you, young wine-besotted lover. If anyone can claw their way up the ranks without consideration for it being a fool's errand, it's you. And if you die the day afterwards, well… it'll be a beautiful funeral.

_Personally, I don't know how anyone could make such a clamor over a face that isn't their own._

And here we go again.

_What? All I'm saying is true beauty flows from the self. If you're ugly, the world becomes ugly. If you're beautiful, the world sparkles from it! He should focus more on improving his appearance than his sword-arm. That'll win the girl's heart far quicker._

Yes, I've tried explaining our philosophy to him, but it hasn't taken root. The boy's completely devoted to his chosen path. It's amazing, really.

_And doomed to failure. You should just kill him before things get any worse._

How could it get worse?

"YUMICHIKA-SAN!"

Ah. That's how.

Renji Abarai came stumbling through the press to the window where Ayasegawa sat nursing his drink. While the Fifth seat had been moderating his alcohol intake all night, clearly the same could not be said for their Tenth. He was weaving about, bleary-eyed and feeling the full effects of the magic-enhanced drinks that were being passed around this evening. Still, he was upright and relatively unharmed, which was more than could be said for quite a few of their hosts.

Renji stopped right in front of him, rice wine sloshing out of his cup to splatter on the floor. The drops narrowly missed hitting the hem of Yumichika's robes. This close-call annoyed him somewhat. Most people had learned early on in this party not to mess up his appearance in any way. But by the looks of things, this one was too far gone with booze to keep that clear in his head.

"Foundja!" the drunkard hiccupped. "C'mon, you gotta…!" He swayed and shook his head, eyes growing hazy for a moment before finally refocusing on his target. "You gotta come wit me! Som'bdy you gotta meet!"

Yumichika gazed at him, purples eyes crinkled with amusement. "Did their lieutenant stop by? Or perhaps Captain Ukitake? Now _there's _a man who could use a makeover, if ever I saw one."

"Huh?" Renji gaped, then grimaced and shook his head violently. "Nnngh NO! Not that! You gotta see HER!"

Ah. Of course. Clearly he had been mistaken about Renji losing his focus. The root cause behind this night's festivities had apparently been located at last.

_Why bother? The moonlight is splendid here. What woman could possibly compare to the sight of your own reflection in a cup of saké?_

True. But I hate to turn down new experiences. And we've been hearing so much about this girl for the longest time, perhaps I should finally see what all the fuss is about?

_Don't come crying to me if she has a face like a Hollow's rump._

I wouldn't dream of it.

With a sigh, the elder shinigami set down his drink and rose, smoothing his robes as he did. "Very well, Master Abarai. Lead on to your fabled princess!"

Renji took the time to reason out this response, and grinned happily when he finally did.

"This way! She's o'er here!"

With his drunken guide taking the lead, Yumichika once more descended into the warlike throngs. His presence registered on their impaired thought processes enough to create a sphere of calm influence about him. The tides parted before them. Whether Renji noticed this effect or not was open to debate. He seemed intent only upon reaching an area across the hall, and didn't question why a bottle hadn't caromed off his head for nearly two minutes.

Eventually they came at last to an impromptu fire pit that had been dug into the floorboards. A circle of people in various states of undress, some of them bleeding heavily, were linking elbows and swaying side to side in close time to a tune they were attempting to sing. The noise made Ayasegawa think about decapitating the lot of them, but he was drawn away from such thoughts by the sight of…

Well, from what he could tell, it looked as though a seven-foot tall bruiser from his company was flat on his back being pummeled mercilessly in the face by a tiny dark-haired child.

_Not a bad swing, actually. Certainly has a lot of rage behind her fists._

Her, is it?

"RUKIA!"

Renji bellowed, and at this the child's head came up. It swiveled back and forth in search of that cry. From this vantage, Yumichika could only see the back of her hair, and then even this was occluded as his friend surged forward and began slurring excitedly in her ear, blocking his view completely.

A few seconds later, the girl had staggered upright, and Abarai tried clumsily to guide her over to where he stood. She slapped his hand off her shoulder, muttering something that might have indicated she didn't need any help, and finally came to a stop less than a foot in front of him.

"Yumichika, m'frend, lemme interduse youto Rukia…" Abarai's face grew blank for a moment. "Uhhh… Kuchiki!"

She looked up, he looked down, and so Yumichika finally got to meet the girl of Renji's dreams.

Well, she was definitely pretty, in a small-boned delicate sort of way. Of course, considering the way she had clobbered a man twice her size and thrice her body-weight, perhaps 'delicate' was not the way to go. Hair was a mess, it was a wonder she wasn't cross-eyed from that thick strand which was drooping right in front of her nose. Fabulous skin, however, looked completely flawless and probably without even the aid of any moisturizers or exfoliating creams. He had an eye for this, some people were simply blessed that way (yours truly included).

Speaking of eyes, hers looked to be a size too large for her head, giving her a waifish quality that some people considered charming. Being so huge, he could easily see himself reflected in them, which was a most welcome discovery in any new acquaintance. Still, their color was simply stunning, a deep bruised blue that was closer to purple. Stunning, of course, because his own were close to the same shade. Nice to see that as well. Brows were thin without being plucked; sharp clean lines on the jaw and not much fat; tiny pert little mouth; nose of perfect size and shape, indicating it had yet to be broken at any point in the past.

Ayasegawa revised his previous estimation from 'pretty' to 'splendid'.

Well, that's over and done with. I suppose she's good enough for me to talk to.

"A pleasure to meet you, Rukia-chan." He smiled and dipped his head to her.

The girl just stared at him out of those great, glassy eyes.

_Does it look like she's about to throw up on you?_

Hard to tell. Perhaps I should take a preemptive step away.

Before he could do so, however, Rukia raised a hand and beckoned him down, never taking her eyes off his face.

Uncertain of where this might lead, he cast a puzzled glance at Renji, who simply returned one of his own. With nothing to help him understand the significance of the gesture, he cautiously bent over and brought himself closer to her level.

Swaying a little, the young woman reached up and laid a hand on his shoulder. He could see the wariness on his face reflected in her pupils.

She then seemed to slide forward, legs going out from under her. Instinctively he caught hold of the girl before she could fall. Rukia's arms slid around his neck in a gentle embrace. Her cheek rubbed against his, and a rumbly voice sighed in his ear, causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise.

"You're beautiful," she murmured happily.

The words, combined with the way she said them, incited a pleasant shiver of feeling to go up his spine. And as he was enjoying this sensation, she dragged her lips across his cheek and kissed him.

His eyes went wide, and he felt his face flame.

Rukia slowly pulled away from him then, eyes half-lidded, smiling in a small, satisfied way, like she had finally gotten something off her chest.

At this point Yumichika discovered he wasn't looking at himself in her eyes anymore. Instead he was focusing on her, and the way she looked right now.

I'm staring. Why am I staring? I should look away. I'm going to. Right now. Right now I'll look away. In a minute, is what I mean. Let me try and memorize the way she's looking at me. I don't think anyone has ever looked at me quite like this before. I feel… bashful? Worried? Do I look good right now? Is she seeing the best side of me? First impressions are very important, I really should freshen up in a mirror.

_You're gaping at her like you've never been kissed before._

No. Like that. I've never been kissed like _that._

To assure himself of this, he found himself leaning towards her to try it again.

A flash of red appeared from the side, and Renji grabbed Rukia by the shoulders, pulling her away.

"Rukia," he grunted, looking somewhat more attentive than he had been in the past. "C'mon, I want to… say hi to… somebody else."

He turned her in the opposite direction from Yumichika. She did not resist as he led her away, but Renji threw a suspicious look behind them as they went. The pair disappeared into the rowdy throngs. Only then did he realize that the noise of that party had completely receded into the back of his mind the last few minutes.

_So. What do you want to do next?_

Don't talk right now.

_Excuse me? If I have something to say, there's nothing you can do to stop…!_

Fuji Kujaku.

_AAANNGGH!_

And then he was alone with his thoughts. After a while, he shook his head and walked back to where he had left his drink.

It was about an hour later that he caught a glimpse of her again, laughing and hugging the sandy-haired Fifth seat of the Thirteenth. This disturbed him for reasons that were difficult to pin down.

After that he lost sight of Rukia. Which shouldn't have mattered, because they had just met and barely gotten past introductions. There was no need to know where she might be. This was what he told himself.

The reason he gave for why he kept searching for her in spite of this was that there was no one better to look at in this lot. And it certainly bore out.

Yumichika had a little more to drink that night than he had originally intended. After a while, when he grew tired of dissociating himself from the festivities, he stood up and started walking around again in a lazy, aimless manner. There wasn't a single person to be seen anywhere near as sober as he was. Perhaps that was why he was feeling so jumpy. Some more alcohol might just do the trick.

As he was considering this, he spotted Rukia again. She was now sitting on Renji's shoulders, holding on to his spiky red crest while he staggered about. When she pulled his hair one way, he obediently followed in that direction. Then another way, and he went the same. Abarai was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face, while his driver concentrated urgently on where she wanted him to go next.

Between one laugh and the next, Renji's eyes rolled up in his head, and he pitched forward like an uprooted tree.

The observer felt his heart-rate spike, but instead of falling with her ride, Rukia vaulted off and went stumbling forward a few feet as Renji crashed to earth behind her in a heap. She came to a halt and looked around as if wondering where she was and how she got there.

Then a door opened in front of her, and several people came swaggering in, laughing and shouting. Rukia stood completely still as they went by her. Afterwards, she walked through the door and disappeared.

Yumichika made the journey over to where Renji lay. He confirmed the kid was unconscious, dead to the world.

He then rose and left in pursuit.

* * *

Rukia felt ill.

She was woozy. Vaguely she recalled someone warning her about kidō-mixed drinks, but the memory slipped away. The darkened corridor down which she walked was moving beneath her feet, twisting and turning. Where was Renji? He had disappeared on her of a sudden. They were supposed to meet up with their friends later and go down by the river to fish. Maybe he was already there. With that in mind, she decided to follow his example.

One side of the hall hit her, then another, as she walked a straight line down it. The river was this way. That much was clear. A portal in front of her opened onto the nighttime outdoors. Rukia stepped down onto a stone pathway, breathing in the scents of this garden deeply. The moon was behind some passing clouds. Up ahead, she spied her destination, a stream meandering through the park. It looked smaller than she remembered. Nonetheless, it was there.

As she took a step forward, the inebriated partygoer came out of the shadow of the building and into half-light.

"_Rukia-san!"_

Immediately she froze.

"_What brings you…you two met? Soifon-taichou, th… younger sister… trust you… handle…atter yourself?"_

Voices whispered in her ear, growing louder and softer from one breath to the next. Her stomach was roiling painfully of a sudden, and her body grew hot. Magic buzzed in her belly and through her veins. Rukia's body reacted to reject this foreign intrusion. She felt it coming then, rising up from the places it had been hidden.

Without further ado she dropped to the stones and was violently sick all over them.

Dazed and in no way feeling better, Rukia coughed and spit, wiping at her mouth in order to get the taste out. The smell of her own stomach contents was sharp and acidic, nasty even to look at. Vomit all over these nice clean stones, someone should come and clean it up. What a mess, a nasty…

Mess.

She stared at it now. The voices were back again.

"_Now ai… silly question! Of cou…to worry… see her done right!"_

A dark stain in the street, ugly in the moonlight. The smell of spilled fluids. All alone.

No, not alone.

Someone is there, someone is right beside you. Look. Feel.

Remember.

The memory was almost there, but then she took a breath…

And it began to fade.

Rukia sighed with relief, and stood upright.

Above her head, the moon came out from behind the clouds, bathing the world in its glow.

She looked down, and saw blood on the flagstones.

"_Wanna take a walk with me, Kuchiki-san?"_

A man whispered right beside her. With a gasp she tore herself away, rushing towards the stream. Her feet splashed into it, and then she was off, racing away.

* * *

Yumichika followed down where he thought she went. He could sense her spirit now. It occurred to him that the girl had a rather high _reiatsu _level. Certainly of help when trying to track her down.

This way, perhaps.

A minute later, he found her trail, in the form of fresh vomit. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he nonetheless persevered in his chase.

* * *

The small bamboo pipe filled up with water and hit the stone with a musical thunk, emptying its contents.

Dropping down beside the pool, Rukia desperately filled her mouth with water, trying to rid if of the sour, burning aftertaste. She spat it out and came up trembling, looking around for something to tell her what was real and false. What was going on?

There was a building off to the side, and several bushes. Or was she in a street, with walls rising on either side? No way to tell, it was all so…

"_I mean if you're not careful, you might wind up turned all around… Next day…find your body in the street'n gotta haul you off to be buried."_

Ichimaru.

That's who it was. His voice came from one side, and she threw herself in the direction she remembered the building having been. Because there was a door there, if she could get inside, lock him out, maybe he would go away. Frantically her fingers sought the latch, and then she was through, stumbling past and running without even remembering her previous plan. One turn, then another. At last she recalled her intention to keep him out, and so when she spied a darkened room, Rukia rushed inside and slammed the door shut.

Shaking uncontrollably, she wondered if she was going to die.

"_C'mon over, Kuchiki-san."_

Fear gripped her. But then she realized it wasn't Gin's voice, and she forced herself to turn around.

Standing there was a man in a white robe with glasses and curly brown hair. He smiled kindly, and while there was a certain familiarity to him, this person was certainly not the evil Third division captain who haunted her. That meant she was safe.

"_Two of us need to have a little chat."_

She obeyed the command and slumped against the wall, bringing her legs up and wrapping her arms around them.

When she looked again, Gin was sitting there watching her.

"_He was a stinkin' traitor, Rukia-chan."_

She placed her face in her arms and began to cry.

Gin and the other man kept talking, switching places from time to time. She heard it all, and then went to sleep.

* * *

It took him a while, but he finally located her. The girl's presence was coming from a room far removed from the raucous party that was gradually engulfing this division.

They were alone together.

Sliding open the paper screen a span, Yumichika peered inside what looked to be an empty conference room.

"Rukia-chan?"

There came a slight rustling to one side.

"Rukia-chan, is that you in there?"

When no one answered, he let himself in.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight coming through the windows, but soon the pursuer found that his quest had ended. Sure enough the small shinigami was hunched up against a wall with her head in her arms.

He approached carefully, and knelt in front of her. She didn't respond to his presence at all. This gave him the opportunity to do something he had been putting off.

Namely, wondering what exactly he was doing here.

_Don't act like you don't know._

Oh, back again? I thought you had gone to sleep.

_Sleep is the last thing you want tonight, isn't it?_

What a crass way of speaking. Who have you been slumming around with to talk that way?

_And I suppose you're refined? A man who's looking to screw his friend's girl?_

Yumichika didn't respond.

_It's useless trying to deny it. You want her._

And what if I do? I'm a man, after all. When my eye falls on someone, it isn't without reason. And look at her. She's lovely.

_She's drunk. Is that how a man behaves? Hunting down a clearly intoxicated woman and having his way with her?_

She was sober enough to recognize my beauty. That shows sufficient awareness for any court.

_And I suppose you'll still be around in the morning to explain things to her when she wakes up?_

"Rukia-chan," he crooned, and began to stroke her hair gently. The girl flinched at his touch but still didn't look up. Shy little thing.

_Don't you DARE ignore me now! I can't believe you're thinking about doing this!_

It's not like I get to do it very often. There are so few women who catch my eye. And she obviously thought me attractive. We'll both enjoy it.

_You offensive pig, if I could lay my hands on you right now…_

You can't. We've learned by now who controls whom here. Why are you being so difficult?

_Because you're not THINKING STRAIGHT! You're drunk too!_

I am not. I know exactly what I'm doing.

To emphasize this, he took her hand and placed a kiss upon it. All gentlemanly and proper.

Go away, now. The adults want to play.

_So I'm a child? All right, then. I want to hear a story. Oh, here's my favorite one!_

"Rukia-chaaaaan."

_There were two friends. One of them was in love with a girl, and he told his friend all about her. Then one day he introduced the girl to him._

Yumichika frowned while nibbling the tips of the maiden's fingers.

_The other man decided HE wanted to sleep with the girl, so he got them both drunk, murdered the poor fellow, and then…_

WHAT? I DID NOT KILL RENJI!

_YOU THOUGHT ABOUT IT, DIDN'T YOU? WHILE HE WAS DRUNK ON THE FLOOR, YOU ACTUALLY THOUGHT ABOUT CRUSHING HIS THROAT! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ABOUT?_

I… I don't know. It was just an idea I had. It didn't mean anything, it was a passing thought! I wouldn't have done something like that!

_Oh, but the story's not over! You see, after the lovestruck young suitor passed out, his good buddy took his tipsy love into the next room and had his way with her, pushing her down onto the bed and ignoring any protests she made, telling her how beautiful she was and that they were 'making love' and how much he wanted her!_

Ayasegawa felt himself grow cold, and he let go of Rukia's hand. She drew it back to her without bothering to look up.

_So the story ends with him leaving her there and going back to his division, certain that he has done nothing wrong and all is right with the world. Tell me, Yumichika, if you met this gallant man one night in a bar and heard him tell his tale just like I did, what would you do to him, hmmm?_

I would push him down to the ground, and cut him open from crotch to throat.

The light of the moon falling into the room moved slowly across the floor. In that time, Yumichika truly sobered up.

Thank you… Ruri'iro Kujaku.

_Don't speak my name. I'm still very angry with you. _

I'm sorry. I didn't think. Please, how can I make this up to you?

_How? Simple. By making sure no one else happens upon her and has the same stupid idea you did!_

So that was settled. Reaching out again, Yumichika gripped her shoulder and spoke in a firmer tone than the coddling one he had adopted before.

"Rukia Kuchiki. Can you hear me? Please wake up, you can't sleep here."

After almost a minute of coaxing like this, the girl finally stirred. Her glistening eyes peaked up at him from the cradle of her arms.

He smiled warmly. "Hello, remember me? The beautiful one? I'm here to take you back to your quarters. Can you stand?"

Rukia just stared. There was no sign that she recognized him.

"Here, take my hand and we'll see you back safe."

No move at first. Then slowly she brought up a shaking fist.

"There, that's all r…"

She punched him.

It was a wild, glancing blow to the cheek that surprised more than it did hurt. In an instant she was scrambling for the door, and Yumichika dove to catch her. The two of them fell together with him on top. When she made to strike him again, he caught her wrists and clasped them together, holding on until her struggles died out.

"…please…"

It was only a whisper. Or what might better be called a whimper. Whatever the case, the emotion behind it made him grow still to listen.

"Please," Rukia continued with her eyes shut tight against whatever frightened her. "I'll be your sister, please don't kill me. I won't disgrace the family, I'll do as I'm told and I won't ask questions, so please… don't touch me, I don't understand… what I did wrong."

She fell to sobbing soon after this, tears seeping from between her lids.

Looking at her, Yumichika was absolutely sickened with himself. This woman was not to be treated frivolously, a one-night stand or any such thing. She deserved compassion, love and tenderness, the most beautiful things in the world.

Much as he wanted to take her in his arms and carry her someplace safe, he recognized the need for tact in this situation. And so with the utmost gentleness, as though handling a robin's egg, the fancy fighter placed a hand behind her shoulder and levered her up into a sitting position. She stiffened, but did not resist.

"Kuchiki-chan, will you please look at me?"

Several heartbeats passed, and then she complied, worry and fright making her cheeks quite pale in spite of the crying.

Without any more attempts to console her, he turned around and, still crouched down, held out his arms behind him.

"Put your hands on my shoulders, and I'll carry you back to your room. You can go to sleep there and no one will bother you."

He didn't look behind to see if she believed him. Yumichika got the distinct impression that she had mixed him up with her brother Byakuya. They were both devastatingly handsome men, and he imagined the noble-born captain did sport a passing resemblance to him. But if that was causing young Rukia any distress, then perhaps it was best she didn't see his face.

This precaution proved to be worthwhile when he felt her tiny fingers come down on his orange shoulder-guards.

"There, now let me just…"

The next thing he knew, Rukia had hopped up to sit on his shoulders just as she had with Renji. Her legs clasped tight around his head and she wiggled slightly to get more comfortable before draping herself over his crown with a contented sigh.

Yumichika gritted his teeth.

Is she doing this to me on purpose?

_I think she just likes to be up high. Don't read too much into it._

A small fist rapped against his skull. "Up!" she commanded.

This was rather like being saddled with watching Lieutenant Kusajishi. With a muffled groan, he gripped her ankles and rose to his full height.

"Heigh-ho, Silver!"

I don't even want to know.

Yumichika turned and opened the door, stooping as low as possible to ensure Rukia didn't bump her head on the frame. After coming out into the corridor, he paused.

"Rukia-chan, do you know how to get to your room from here?"

She grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged it forward.

"Straight it is, then."

Several twists and turns later, Ayasegawa was supremely thankful there was no one wandering this section of the barracks tonight. By the sound of it, the party was still going strong, but even drunken people might notice a ravishing man hoisting a lovely young maiden who pulled his hair whenever she wanted him to change directions. Rukia's sense of direction seemed only marginally superior to Yachiru's, and once again he had a terrible feeling of déjà vu. They wandered for what must have been twenty minutes, but never once did they actually find themselves facing a dead end, though he could have sworn they were going around in circles for a while there.

Eventually they came to a door at which a light burned within where Rukia yanked back and murmured, "Whoah."

Finally. Sliding the frame open, he ducked inside and found himself to be in a rather spacious and well-maintained set of quarters. The place was nice enough to qualify for an officer's use, actually. Her brother must have pulled some strings to get his sister a nice spot away from the family manor. Certainly did pay to be rich.

Ayasegawa walked further into the room, peering about for a bed. This night's activities had left him more drained than he had expected, and once depositing his charge he would waste no time in heading back to the party in search of something to help restore him to full energy.

It was while considering this prospect that he suddenly realized Rukia's weight had left his shoulders.

Thinking she had slid off, he spun about intending to catch her, only to see absolutely no sign of the girl.

What? Where did she disappear to so fast?

At this point, the dumbfounded guardian heard a shuffling coming from above him.

Looking up, he just managed to see a foot disappear over the side of the rectangular glass lamp dish hanging from the ceiling.

Staring at this implausible sight for a while, Yumichika finally thought to drag a table beneath the fixture and climb atop it to peer over the edge. Sure enough, there curled up around the candle was Rukia Kuchiki, sound asleep and looking quite content. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out if she always slept up here or if it was a long-held wish that being on someone's shoulders had finally allowed her to seize hold of.

Whatever the answer might be, he was simply too exhausted to consider trying to bring her down. She didn't weigh much, and the thing hadn't already collapsed, so perhaps it wouldn't? To soothe his guilty conscience, he located a blanket and pillows and piled them up on the floor beneath her. If she fell, at least this would cushion the fall. The knight-champion's duties had been completed.

_I believe you've suffered enough. Now, then, back to the brouhaha. Come on, mush!_

Don't gloat. It's immodest.

_I beg to differ. Everything I do, I do with grace and talent!_

How can someone so conceited be my moral center?

_We're a bundle of pretty contradictions. March!_

And so he did.

_To be continued…_


	36. New World: Love That Withstands Death

Renji looked up from his reading, stunned and dismayed by what he had just learned.

The words that came next drew him back against his will.

* * *

A few days after this event, Yumichika learned that he was one of the people tasked with repaying his debt to the battered Thirteenth division by assisting them to flush out the denizens of Hollow Bog. The idea of picking off a few Hollows sounded rather good at this point, and he went about making preparations for the escapade cheerfully.

"You're awful happy," Ikkaku muttered sourly.

Yumichika threw him a sparkling smile as he donned his orange greave. "Don't be a mope, now. You refused to accompany us to the party, and so you don't get to reap the benefits. We were specifically told no one else from our division could join us on this expedition, and there's no sense questioning the higher-ups. This party is only for scallywags!"

His friend took a belt from a booze gourd. "I'm just saying, you look pretty enthusiastic considering it's only a mop-up operation. You thinking there'll be some real action out there?"

"Not at all!" The Fifth seat dabbed a bottle of scent onto his fingers and patted it under his jaw. "I'm just looking forward to doing my duty today!"

"Huh. Is Renji going to be there?"

"Undoubtedly." A purple scarf was laid against his shoulder, but he dismissed it as inappropriate for the occasion. "Do you want me to keep an eye out for him?"

"Nah." Madarame leaned back against the windowsill and looked at the sky. "He knows the rules by now." Gazing off into the distance, he wrinkled his nose and came back about. "Geez, Yumichika, what's the deal? You're getting dolled up like you're going on a date."

"You never know," the violet-eyed charmer replied while inspecting himself in the mirror. "I might just run into a lovely lady out there, and I want to look my best so she can get used to it."

"If you do, find out if she has a sister."

Satisfied with his appearance, Yumichika grabbed Ruri'iro Kujaku from her stand and trotted out the door, waving goodbye behind him. "Don't wait up, now!"

* * *

Yumichika did indeed meet Rukia again that day, and as he had expected, she had no recollection of what took place on the night they first met. In some ways it was an immense relief, but in others a disappointment. Who likes to think themselves forgettable, after all? This also meant he could not easily broach the issues that seemed to have troubled her so deeply that night. But if she harbored any ill effects, they did not show.

In spite of all this, he had resolved to further repay his debt to her by making certain that no harm befell the girl while they were engaged in this exercise together.

To his great pleasure, Ayasegawa found that Rukia was quite a capable presence on the battlefield, despite this being her first time seeing any action. More than that, her form was lovely to behold, speaking of true grace and artistry in its execution.

As the situation turned grim, however, he saw the flaws in her fighting style as well. Undoubtedly courageous in regards to helping others, she still lacked confidence in her abilities. And her swordsmanship, while exhibiting good training, was nowhere near the level he felt necessary to allow her to triumph in a truly desperate situation. Some people could take on a foe that clearly surpassed them in terms of power and still manage to come out on top in the end. But as things stood, Rukia would probably be the one to wind up dead from such an encounter.

She didn't have any natural talent when it came to swords, that much was obvious. But she did have potential in several other areas, coupled with outright fierce determination when you came down to it. And he himself was not a swordsman by nature, having taught himself how to handle such a weapon in order to keep up appearances. Watching Rukia move and fight, he saw a natural expression for battle that occasionally shone through her rigorous Kuchiki-drilled skills. Like him, he suspected she had grown up learning how to make do with her fists and feet to serve as weapons when needed. Were someone to adopt a training regimen with her that incorporated those self-taught inclinations, rather than discounting them in favor of the sword-based tactics recommended by the academy, she might very well blossom into a truly rare and fabulous diamond of a fighter.

They both survived that hellish battle. Yumichika was pleased to find her looking favorably upon him in the aftermath. He told himself that his interest in her opinion was simply a matter of one beautiful and talented fighter appreciating another. It was only natural, after all. He was in no way betraying Renji or Rukia by admitting that.

Time passed, and he had reason to meet her on a few instances. Never anything like before, but he was pleased to see her alive and well, if still not quite flourishing in the manner he had hoped.

Then one day, word went around that Kaien Shiba, lieutenant of the Thirteenth, had been killed by a powerful Hollow the night before. Normally Ayasegawa wouldn't have given a thought to such a matter, but in this case there was an auxiliary issue at heart. He knew Kaien had been training Rukia, and that she was extremely devoted to her fellow noble, who had gone to much trouble to see her welcomed into their fold. Their relationship on and off the field of battle had been the source of several troubling innuendos. Unsubstantiated ones, of course, but troubling all the same.

Now that Shiba was dead, a more credible rumor was whispered that she had been removed from active duty, and no longer could be seen or heard from anywhere in the divisions. Rukia had supposedly retreated into isolation at Kuchiki Manor in the wake of the disaster, which struck so deeply into the power structure of the already sickly Thirteenth division.

Weeks passed, and Yumichika found he was thinking about her off and on. More and more he caught himself wondering how she was doing, and whether she would ever return to fight alongside them again. As before, it was purely an appreciation for what she had to offer in terms of poetry on the battlefield, the sort that would inspire the skalds to sing ravishing songs about her, if there were any skalds to be found in the afterlife.

Beautiful Rukia, wasting away in some lonely castle like a magnificently-begun poem whose creator had never bothered to finish it.

It was this thought that came back to him often, and he grew troubled at its insistence. What could she accomplish, if only given the impetus to succeed? How would she amaze the world by her being in it?

Eventually he couldn't bear not knowing anymore, and so he hied himself off to the palace of the Kuchiki Lord. There Yumichika Ayasegawa offered up his services as a fighting instructor, with the hopes of bringing the princess to her most splendid martial peak.

Captain Kuchiki at last acceded to this request. The very same day, he went and reintroduced himself to Rukia as her new trainer.

It was even a shock to Yumichika at how quickly she recovered her fire, taking his bait and wounding him on the first practice. He had thought something like this would be necessary to snap her out of the doldrums. Therefore he didn't hold back, and was rewarded by a level of bloodthirstiness on her part that would have easily qualified Rukia for a spot in the Eleventh division.

The injury he received from her was one whose scar he would have been proud to bear forever (covered up of course), as testament to his role in bringing this splendid warrior back to the world she belonged in. Instead Rukia insisted on healing him immediately after.

It was while she repaired his arm, worry dancing in her fabulous eyes, concentrating so intently on staunching the flow of blood, that he realized how much he cared for her.

Yumichika looked at this exceptional young maiden of ice and steel as she shared her soul with him, and admitted that he was in love.

Perhaps he had known for a very long time, but it was seeing her like this, both healer and warrior, that let him understand how much she called to him. And how he longed for her. As a shinigami, she had enticing potential. Her skill in all the areas of their arts, from swords to spells, left him afire with the need to see what she could achieve. How far could she rise? To the very top? A captain, even? Oh, it was delicious to think it!

And then, as a woman, she had everything one could ask for. Strength, humor, innocence, wordliness, devotion, intelligence, and affection. There was simply so much to this girl, he found himself doubting anyone could ever be a match for her.

So then. He loved Rukia Kuchiki. But could she ever deign to love him? Could the princess love a pauper just like she had once been? Renji certainly seemed to think so. Of course, that there was a problem in and of itself. Because Abarai was his trusted companion, a person Yumichika valued for his noble qualities as well as his ignoble ones. It was hard enough finding someone you liked in this great big scary world. But if two of you then loved the same person, where would that lead? He knew how Renji felt about Rukia, even if the dolt hardly seemed to recognize it himself. How could it be anything but a betrayal of their friendship if he decided to pursue his own heart in spite of knowing it would cost the other man his own? How could such a thing be anything except… _ugly._

But an idea had been circulating inside his head for a while. Perhaps it would be wrong to openly compete for her affections, or even make attempts to steal her away from Renji unawares. What if, however, instead of wooing her and actively seeking her love, he were to present himself in a wholly flattering light that did not involve romance? If Rukia came to view him as a close personal friend, and grew to know his character in that respect, was it madness to think that she might gradually fall in love with him, the way he had come to understand her magnificent qualities and what they made him feel?

This solution, when it came to him, seemed so very plausible and fine, that only one word could possibly describe its virtues.

Beautiful.

So he was there for Rukia. When her brother Byakuya treated her coldly for whatever insane reason, he offered her warmth. In the shadow of the staid and unhappy Kuchiki home, Yumichika sought to provide lightness and whimsy, a respite from the enforced drudgery of that wealthy manor.

And it seemed to be working. Rukia sparkled. She shone. Though the weight of her cares could never quite lift fully, Ayasegawa believed that in the time when they were together, he alone was given the opportunity to experience the celestial soul of her womanhood in all its glory.

He was careful in his design. There were no tender caresses which might be written off as innocent, or casual chats about love that might lead elsewhere. This was a most subtle enterprise he was engaged in; the cultivation of her beauty, and the revelation of his own.

There were times, however, seemingly heaven-sent moments that seemed absolutely perfect for declaring his feelings for her.

* * *

"Do you consider me… attractive?"

Yumichika looked over at Rukia, sitting there in her black robes amongst the field of blooming gardenia waiting for an answer, and felt the urge to reach out and pull her close to him, kiss her breathless and give her his response that way. But he restrained himself, and drew on his willpower to hide his true feelings from her. He talked around the question in pretty phrases that could be taken any number of ways.

In the end, however, he simply couldn't resist the opportunity, one that she might look back upon years later and see it for what it truly meant.

"…I'm afraid I must disappoint you, my little flower." _Since you should know how much you are loved._

"For you see, my heart belongs to another." _Another besides myself. And it is you._

"I keep their image with me always." _In my mind, and in my camera._

"Would you perchance like to see?"

She nodded eagerly, all guileless charm and inquisitive loveliness. He was flattered to find her so interested in his romantic pursuits. And so with the greatest of care, he withdrew a mirror and handed it to her.

Rukia looked at herself in that frame, and didn't realize she was seeing the person who had captured his heart. Yumichika let her keep it then, as a memento from her cherished friend.

Yes, it was that and so much more.

* * *

Decades went by, but to dead spirits like them, time held no great threat. Only what was accomplished in that span mattered.

Yumichika began to believe that Rukia truly loved him. But was she _in _love with him? That was the question. The idea that he was involved in a fruitless quest was not lost upon her secret admirer. In this way, he understood how Renji must feel.

Unfortunately, someone else proved more privy to his worst fears.

"How's your love life?"

Gin Ichimaru sneered at him following one of his practice sessions with Rukia, and immediately he knew that this man had figured it out. So he sought to kill a captain of the Gotei 13. They might have both died, but the serpent played upon his desire to keep Rukia safe above all else. Thus it was that he agreed to act as this man's agent towards affecting change in their world.

Ayasegawa wasn't truly interested in who came out on top. What mattered was that certain people not be made aware of his feelings for a particular royal lady. Her brother Byakuya, for instance. If that happened, he would have to fight for his life, no doubt. And regardless of what she thought of His Highness, he doubted Rukia would look kindly on the man who killed her adoptive brother and made her take control of that miserable family.

However, if the smirking creep thought he knew everything there was to know about Yumichika and Rukia's relationship, he was sorely mistaken. For there was one other goal in their training together that the teacher never let on to his student.

Namely, he was preparing her to one day kill Gin if necessary.

Anyone who knew her understood that the person who frightened Rukia the most was Ichimaru Gin. Even Byakuya didn't quite compare. Of course, pretty much everybody was wary of the Division Three captain. But there was no denying that he did display an unhealthy interest in Rukia beyond her secret life as an assassin. No way to know for sure what it might be, but Yumichika knew he didn't like it. And so he set out to learn everything he could about the man in terms of his fighting abilities.

Like virtually all captains, Ichimaru was seemingly undefeatable. He knew kidō, was strong, fast, and of course, he had _ban-kai. _Yumichika got to see more of this last than one might expect. After all, his captain routinely challenged Gin to fight with him, and the creep was unusual among the captains in that he always accepted. Zaraki could never kill his silver-haired sparring partner, mainly because Gin's _Hellish Spear _seemed perfectly designed to keep its wielder alive despite anything you threw at it.

Ayasegawa watched these fights along with several of his other battle-hungry mates. He watched them all. He questioned. He reasoned. Most importantly, he spoke to people who had faced Makaiso in battle. Only one time had anyone ever managed to triumph with any significance in the face of that ungodly power. That was during one of the lieutenants' trials, when Nemu Kurotsuchi used her zanpakutō to cover the whole thing in blood, breaking the spell. Of course, the fight hadn't ended there, and Gin no doubt would have killed her regardless.

He learned two interesting things that day. One, no ban-kai is perfect. And two…

"You say he hesitated?"

"Yes." Nemu sat across from him, hands folded in her lap. "This was immediately before the arena safety mechanism was activated, cancelling his power. In the moment when Captain Ichimaru was about to swing, I flung my arm up to protect myself on instinct, and I saw him check his attack. Judging by his face, it was as though something had happened to cause him to lose confidence."

"Were you doing anything different at the time than before when he was hurting you?"

"The only differences were that I had lost an arm, my Aka-chan was not aimed at him, and I was holding a mirror."

Yumichika looked up from writing. "A what?"

"A mirror," she repeated, and reached into her robe to produce a similar object. "Used when I do not wish to expose myself directly in order to gauge my surroundings."

"I see."

The green-eyed lieutenant stood up. "I have no further personal battle data regarding Gin Ichimaru. Mayuri-sama wishes me to remind you that in exchange for this interview, you will inform him of any active Quincy you can find in the performance of your duties."

"Yes, yes, tell your ugly master I'll keep him informed." Highly unlikely he would ever have to make good on that promise. After that last disturbingly coordinated Hollow attack, the Quincy were officially recognized as extinct. Still, had to humor the madman if you wanted to get things done.

From then on, Yumichika insisted Rukia bring her mirror with her to practice, claiming it was necessary to keep them both looking beautiful after bouts. He kept his suspicions to himself, and never once attempted to test them out against Ichimaru. If there was a way to beat his ban-kai without bleeding yourself dry, Gin would never let anyone who knew of it live. So this was something of a pipe-dream. But it was one that made a queer sort of sense, especially to someone who understood the value of a good mirror.

Just covering all the bases.

* * *

Rukia Kuchiki was sentenced to death.

He wasn't permitted to visit her. Gin assured him that she would be safe, but even if that did prove true, Yumichika had already resolved to kill Captain Kuchiki for allowing such a travesty to proceed. He changed his mind only upon learning that Byakuya had risked his life to save Rukia, and then admitted the real reason for adopting her. At last Rukia was granted a peaceful life in her own home.

Unfortunately, hot on the heels of this newfound improvement to his beloved's future, Yumichika received a profound punch to the balls in the form of Kurosaki Ichigo.

He listened to her talk about him. He watched her when they were together. He saw how much she had changed in just a few short months. More than he had accomplished in decades of trying. Only one thing could explain it.

Love.

Rukia was in love with the human boy.

When he realized this, the deadly duelist considered blowing his cover and just killing the brat in front of everybody. Let them see the true form of his zanpakutō, who cares?

She cares.

So instead, he resolved to bear this grotesquely unforeseen turn of events with as much fortitude as he could muster. More than that, Yumichika swore that if it didn't turn out to be a momentary infatuation, if Rukia decided for herself that this love was real and worthwhile, then he would do everything in his power up to and including death to see that Kurosaki survived the war that was about to come.

On the day Rukia bloodied his lip and he gave her back her soul power, Ayasegawa felt his heart being wrung dry by how close they really were. But not close enough. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek then, the only direct evidence of his affection for her he had ever permitted. Afterwards he left her to recover, and went to have a chat with Ichimaru.

"Don't let Kurosaki die."

"Why not?"

"Rukia loves him."

"Well, ain't that sweet."

"When the war really starts, I'll take care of him. Just remember that."

"Whatever ya think is best, cowboy. Ichigo won't die on my watch if I can help it."

"All right. Goodbye, then."

"Hey, ain'tcha gonna threaten me? Y'know, 'I'll make you regret it', and all that?"

"I'm not in the mood."

* * *

_-Renji, this last part here's for you.-_

_-You and the captains just got back from Hueco Mundo. I saw Ichigo's face. He knows now. Rukia told him. It's real. Which means you and I have a tough choice ahead of us.-_

_-Either we accept the fact that she's made her decision and go on with our lives, or stand up and face the music, come what may.-_

_-I'm dead, now, so I have no intention of telling you what I would have done if I had survived. Just understand that if you don't do the same, you will forever be a sorry excuse for a coward, and you deserve to suffer for it. I'm suffering now as I write this. I am going to have a talk with Kurosaki, and get a few things off my chest. Whatever decision you make, it had better be one you can live with. Otherwise… well, I'll see you soon.-_

_-And one more thing. Don't you dare tell Rukia or anyone else about my feelings for her, understand? This secret I leave in your care.-_

_-Goodbye, Abarai Renji. Keep shooting for that captaincy, you hear? After today, I think there'll be some spots open.-_

_-Oh, and if Rukia or Ichigo dies, kill Ichimaru for me, okay? Thanks.-_

_-Your beautiful and bitter rival in love,_

_Yumichika Ayasegawa ('5')-_

_

* * *

_

Renji let the last small sheet drop into his lap. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

He had been in love with her. That's why Yumichika was always hanging around Rukia. Why didn't I see it before?

_You thought he was gay, that's why._

That's right. I did. But now I know differently.

_So? What happens next?_

Why are you asking me?

"Renji?"

Looking up, he found Neliel gazing down at him curiously, the war-paint across her cheeks scrunching up in cogitation.

"Hey!" The lieutenant jumped up, stuffing the pages into his sash. "You all done?"

"I got bored," she said decisively. "And I'm hungry. What do shinigami eat, anyway?"

He blinked. "Well, there's lots of rice, and alcohol…"

"Show me. Now."

Forceful. All the same, there still seemed to be a bit of the childish Nel inside all-grown-up Neliel. To cover his shock at what this day had revealed to him, Renji decided to just go along with whatever his new partner's whims dictated. "Sure. Right this way, they've got really good chow at the barracks."

"Hmm," she murmured.

Then without further ado, Neliel caught him in a headlock and started marching down the lane with his head tucked under her arm.

"… Neliel?"

"Yes?"

"Are you… feeling okay?"

She shook her head, sending green hair flying. "No. For some reason being in that room reminded me that Ichigo is shacking up with Rukia. I'm a little upset by that, so I want some male companionship right now." The swordswoman glanced down at him. "You're a good fighter, and your tattoos are nice. So keep me company in my grief."

_What is there to say except…?_

"Yes, ma'am."

Quite unexpectedly, Abarai had found a person who might have something helpful to suggest in regards to the decision he was required to make soon.

* * *

Not for the first time, Byakuya studied the paper that lay before him. The emotions it raised brought only questions with no clear solutions.

As he perused the contents of that final message, a hell butterfly fluttered through his window and came to rest on his hand.

About to brush it off for later, he was startled by the voice that spoke to him.

_-Greetings, Lord Kuchiki! Your humble servant Yumichika Ayasegawa requests an audience. Granted? How very gracious!-_

_-There are a lot of things I could say to you, but if you are hearing this, it means I'll never get the chance. And such matters are best done in person, perhaps with swords crossed and blood flowing. Like my captain, I always wondered how it would be like were I to battle you. Who knows, by this point I might have actually died by your sword. But even if that is the case, there is something that must be said.-_

_-You've come a long way in how you treat Rukia. Relatively speaking. That is the only reason you remain alive today. In spite of that, you're a hopeless clod when it comes to knowing her. I have had to assume the role of wonderful and kind older brother that you forsook for whatever stupid reason your shriveled heart concocted. That is what you were actually paying me to do, so you know; not teach her how to fight, but to do what you could not be bothered to understand was a necessary brotherly duty. And that is to not only love your little sister, but to show it.-_

_-If I am not there to do it, henceforth I expect you to take over the role of kind Aniki now that I am gone. And your first task is very simple: Rukia would like a pet. Since I have no trouble imagining you messing up even such a simple task by buying her a goldfish or possibly even a bonsai tree, I will spell it out for you. Rabbits. Cute and fluffy rabbits. White ones, preferably. Should you feel the need to buy her a whole warren to make up for neglecting that fabulous girl so odiously, obey that instinct.-_

_-I am leaving her well-being in your hands. If you fail in this matter, I'll come back from the dead and butcher you. And should you find yourself filled with murderous rage the first time she introduces you to her boyfriend, know that Big Brother Yumichika is proud of you. That's all I have to say. Except that I was always better-looking than you.-_

_-Courteously,_

_Ayasegawa Yumichika ('5')-_

To say that Byakuya was unprepared for such news would not have done it justice. The flippancy, the sheer brazen audacity of it left him wondering if the whole world had not taken leave of its senses while he wasn't looking.

Wait.

What did he mean about Rukia having a 'boyfriend'?

A wealth of suspicion blossomed in his heart.

Who was it?

_I believe you already know._

That is absurd.

_Did you think she was going to refuse all social contact like you did? That is something we were trying to avoid, if you will recall._

I cannot countenance this. The mere idea of it is an affront to my pride.

_Think of it as a matter to be handled in the future. Remember, there are more disturbing tidings yet. This war is not over, regardless of what that buffoon Urahara believes._

At this reminder, Byakuya once more picked up the single sheet of paper that had lain on his desk since he returned from the fighting.

You are correct, Senbonzakura. The future does hold far worse horrors than what you imply.

To assure himself of this, he once more read the letter written in a familiar hand.

_-Byakuya-_

_-I do not know what has caused me to regain my senses at this stage. I fear there is little time as it is. Though that is the case, I would be remiss in my duties were I not to leave something tangible for you to look back on and hopefully benefit by. At the very least, I must try to warn you of what is taking place in our world-_

_-This is the last testament of Ginrei Kuchiki, your grandfather. My feeble condition these past few decades was not a natural one. I have been poisoned by someone whom it never occurred to me I should suspect. Though it may strike you as unbelievable, the one responsible for depriving me of my sanity and strength was Retsu Unohana. She came to me after your mother's death, when I learned that one of our own captains was collaborating with the Hollows, and bound me with her power. Aizen Sōsuke is a traitor to Soul Society. I fear that both of them have been engaged in some fiendish plot for many centuries now without our knowledge. By this point you may already have proof of their treachery, but there are things you cannot possibly know, for they have not yet come to pass-_

_-In the time that I lay bound by the witch's curse, my zanpakuto, Momiji Okami, sought in vain to free me from her enchantments and warn you of the peril. Lost in my memories, Maple Emperor strove to cut through the magic which shackled me to the past and blinded me to the present. He fought so hard that the battle within my soul yielded unexpected consequences. It was not only the veil of days gone by that he managed to pierce, but the impenetrable curtain of what lay ahead. My eyes have been granted visions of things I could not possibly have reason to know of. Whether merely delusions of my fevered brain or something more, I cannot say. But some dread emotion compels me to believe that there is truth to what I have seen, and so I will impart it here-_

_-Aizen Sōsuke is far more than what he seems. I believe him to be a surviving member of the Takuiyoku clan, whose destruction I myself countenanced in the name of the King. Worse even than this, he bears the vengeance and power of every soul who was slaughtered in the name of justice on that day. He has gathered demons from our world and beyond to help him achieve his vision of overthrowing the King of Soul Society. Vasto lorde are his to control, and members of your own inner circle have fallen under his spell. I have seen your chosen wife, or someone who looks enough like her to be a sister, acting under his direction to achieve the most chilling ends. Heaven shall feel the force of their wrath, and unless I am mistaken, a new dark emperor will be crowned in the aftermath-_

_-But there is hope. It is not only the faces of monsters who haunt my mind, but heroes as well. For your sake as well as theirs I am willing to endure the ultimate sacrifice on this day. But my generation will not be the one that ends this long-running conflict, nor even yours, I regret to say. The best we can do is hinder and delay the rise of evil, in the hope that when those horrific powers once more find their way back into our world, a new breed of champions will have emerged to ultimately put right the travesties of their foreparents-_

_- The youth of today and those not even born yet must grow strong and wise, for it falls to them to defend all of creation against our avowed enemies. I cannot tell you their names, but I have seen a boy with hair of frost and emerald eyes astride a dragon made entirely of ice. This child is a legendary guardian, reborn into our time to challenge the King of Deceit himself. Their conflicting destinies are so closely intertwined that I fear some awareness of it may exist hidden in each of them. If that is so, Takuiyoku might already have taken measures to slay the boy who will grow to oppose his reign. Find this child, and see to his protection until his power has matured. Your future depends upon it-_

_-Other valiant spirits exist elsewhere. In my mind's-eye I watch as a man with hair like orange flame, the heir to the one-eyed God of War, does battle with madness incarnate in the form of a ravening Wolf, to avenge his kin and all the multitudes who died in that beast's jaws. The Trickster God offers up malice and riddles with a smile, but he alone has divined the way to destroy a creature whom even God Himself was unable to kill. One fallen soul shall return from the dead to reclaim his heart and rescue innocents from a Cobra's shadow, while the Bottomless Pit weeps at the knowledge of what she has consumed. There are children of people you trust who will walk in dreams, and come to know the true face of our most dire enemy, the Hollow Queen. And it is with pride that I tell you a child who bears the mark of the Kuchiki shall bring about the Witch's downfall-_

_-There is nothing more I can reveal at this time. You are your father's son, Byakuya. He had a great heart that saw past his elders' folly, and I know you are the same. The world I defended must come to an end, in favor of a brighter future. If not, the sins of the past will destroy all hope in their quest for vengeance. I offer my blessing to you and all others whom you choose to shelter in our family. Let your eye see clearly their value, and do not let fear deceive you-_

_-Forgive me for leaving you like this. Believe that you are loved, because you deserve to be-_

_-Ginrei, 27th Lord of the Kuchiki-_

Byakuya settled his grandfather's final account into his lap and sat for a time, pondering the mysteries that had been left to him. Was there any measure of reason he could discern in these vague warnings? How awful must his grandfather have felt, not being able to provide anything clearer than this?

_Prophecies often only make sense after they come true. Nonetheless, the overall sentiment is clear. _

Indeed. Our battle with the betrayers remains unfinished. We must prepare against the possibility that they might one day find a way to free themselves.

_Do not forget to live your own life while you train for the dark times which lie ahead._

You need not fear on that score. I will defend all I cherish from any threats, whether they be of my doing or the fault of my ancestors.

_It is a heavy onus of responsibility that your predecessors in the Kuchiki and the Gotei 13 have left you to manage under. _

True. But all the same, I am proud of my grandfather. To say nothing of grateful. By his actions he has given me a greater chance for happiness.

_I believe your lady recognizes the same._

Then we must not let his sacrifice go to waste.

_May you exhibit the same pure valor when Rukia announces her engagement to…_

Be silent, you pert blade.

_As my lord commands._

_

* * *

_

"Milady," the servant whispered, as if afraid of disturbing anyone at this late hour, "Lord Kuchiki requests your presence. He is waiting in the reception chamber. Would you like me to help you dress?"

"Thank you. I will see them as I am."

Rukia rose from her bed where she had been unable to sleep for worrying about when they would notice. No reason to ask what this was about. Well, time to face the music.

Thus it was that a few minutes later, she found herself sitting in her nightclothes facing four very unfriendly-looking captains.

Byakuya appeared as grave as if he were challenging an army of _vasto lorde_, while Yoruichi had adopted an unreadable expression. Tessai Tsukabishi was gazing at her sadly, as though asking how she could do such a thing. Kisuke Urahara looked distinctly intimidating now that he wore the robes of the Twelfth division captain. Perhaps some of Mayuri's presence still resided in that garment. Or maybe it was the way he pressed his lips together so tightly, like he might explode otherwise.

As she had suspected, they were keeping this all in the family.

"Lords and ladies," Rukia greeted them calmly, "How may I help you this evening?"

Her brother took a deep breath. "Where is it, Rukia?"

"I am sorry, Nii-sama, can you be more specific?"

"Don't act cute," Kisuke snapped. Nothing humorous about him now.

"Lady Kuchiki," the bespectacled sorcerer beside him rumbled. "_Where_ is Minazuki?"

She directed a regal look at him. "I cannot say at this time."

"This is serious, Rukia-chan," Yoruichi groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You took advantage of your status as a Kuchiki. The guards didn't try to stop you from going in, and according to them you didn't leave with anything. But the weapon is still gone. So what did you do with it?"

No sense trying to lie. "I gave it to Ichigo."

"Why?" Byakuya sounded very weary, and the way he looked at her made his sister regret this enterprise for the very first time. Her Nii-sama seemed honestly disappointed with her. And so she gave him an explanation.

"I have my doubts about the intentions of certain people." She kept her violet eyes locked with his gray ones, refusing to look at the other three. "The weapon Minazuki is too dangerous to leave lying around for anyone to pick up. So we decided that while you were all kept busy overseeing the return of Karakura Town to Earth, Ichigo and I would remove Unohana's zanpakutō and hide it somewhere it could do no harm."

"Just have to keep people guessing about your allegiances, don't you, Rukia-sama?" Kisuke drawled, attempting to appear relaxed and failing at it. "You're lucky no one told Soifon about this. She would have been after your head for sure this time."

"Are you threatening me in my own home, sir?" she asked archly.

The scientist crossed his arms. "What if I am?"

"Urahara-san!" Tsukabishi looked at him with disbelief. "She is our ally!"

The retired shopkeeper threw up his arms with a laugh. "Does _she _know that?"

"That is enough, Urahara-taichou," Byakuya said in a more commanding tone of voice. "Our primary concern is locating Minazuki."

"Your little sister seems to think she can do whatever she pleases!" his counterpart from the Twelfth shot back. "Tell me, is she wearing the pants in this household, or are you?"

"Kisuke…" Yoruichi spoke with a glare.

"NO, I AM NOT WALKING ON EGGSHELLS AROUND THIS!" he shouted, rounding on his ally angrily. "That little girl goes off half-cocked, meddling with things more dangerous than anything we know, and you expect me to just smile and go, 'Pish-posh'? Simply because she's _noble? _That's not an excuse to do as you please anymore!"

"Neither is being a captain," Rukia said quietly.

His eyes narrowed viciously. "Oh, my dear, my dear, you really are asking to be slapped, aren't you?"

"Try it, Urahara," a voice spoke. "Just try it."

Relief washed over her as she turned to see the door behind her slide open and Ichigo come walking in. Wearing his normal death god robes, he stalked over to join them. Rukia rose, and he came to stand beside her. A questioning look passed between them, and when he smiled, she knew that their plan had been a success.

One less thing to worry about.

"Well, everybody's here." Yoruichi flopped down onto a cushion and rolled her neck around slowly, wincing as she did. "Can you tell us what exactly is going on now?"

"Just trying to keep Soul Society from falling back on bad habits," the teenager asserted firmly. "It's not good for a few select people to make all the decisions, right?"

Kisuke had never looked more furious than he did right now. "You ignorant little…! Do you think you can just waltz into our world whenever you please, strut around and tell us what to do? You're playing with our _lives! WHERE DID YOU PUT THAT DAMN SWORD?"_

Rukia was proud of the way her champion faced down that irate intellectual. He didn't betray any emotion in the slightest. Very mature.

"Have you looked up your ass, Urahara?"

Ah, there's the man I love.

Before Urahara could respond, Byakuya began to speak.

"Ichigo Kurosaki. The weapon you two stole might conceivably be used to bring its owner out of her captivity. It does not reflect well upon you to treat such a possibility as indiscreetly as you do everything else. Do you doubt our trustworthiness so much you are willing to risk all our lives?"

"I don't question your integrity, Byakuya," he responded. It was a mark of how troubled the captain really was that he did not react to the familiar title in the slightest. Rukia's heart went out to him then.

"We did not take Minazuki to threaten or intimidate any of you," she asserted in the hopes of lessening the dire mood that was increasing with every passing moment. "But I spoke to Tsukabishi-taichou, and he admitted there was little more that could be done to suppress it." Tessai bowed his head forward and shook it from side to side, as if lamenting any part he might have played in leading up to this matter. "With that being decided, the greatest threat lay in how many people knew where to find Minazuki. Such information was dangerous no matter how you looked at it. This way another variable has been restricted to the best of our abilities. Only one person knows its location now, a man who can be trusted implicitly."

"Really?" Urahara spoke coolly. "Is that how it is, Ichigo? Can we trust you not to betray us? Are you completely above reproach?" A very disturbing smile twisted his face. "Even if you are, can you guarantee you will always be that way? There's a side of you some of us have seen that isn't quite so virtuous. What if _he _decides to take control of you again? Things could get rather more complicated should the world's most dangerous weapon wind up in the hands of your Hollow."

"That's a good point, actually." Yoruichi looked between them both. "Ichigo, if we let things stand, are you certain we might not wind up regretting this decision?"

Kurosaki returned her stare without flinching. "_He_ won't bother you anymore. He's my responsibility. I'll keep him in check."

"Lovely," Kisuke groused sarcastically.

"Perhaps you would consent to accepting a precautionary measure," Tessai suggested while stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I could cast a spell on you that would alert us immediately if your Hollow began to assert dominance. It would be completely benign otherwise, of no notice to you in your daily life."

"I got enough of you guys and your 'benign spells' hidden inside me, thank you very much," Ichigo returned in a very suspicious tone, causing Tessai to frown.

"Ichigo-san, this is a very sensitive matter. You need to show our worries some consideration if we're to trust you!"

"Have a little faith in me, Tessai-san. After all, you helped make me this way, right?"

Tsukabishi appeared troubled by this admission and lapsed into silence. It was Byakuya who once more continued the dialogue. "If you would at least consent to share the location of Minazuki with someone else, it could be taken as a sign of good faith."

"Who'd you have in mind?" Trust and faith did not exactly drip from his tongue, Rukia noticed.

"Why not tell Rukia-chan?" Yoruichi supplied. "You can both depend on her, right?"

"That's nonsense!" Urahara practically barked. "Bonnie and Clyde here have already shown how little they think of us, asking one to watch over the other is like giving prisoners the keys to their cells and asking them not to leave!"

"_She _doesn't have an inner Hollow, does she?" his childhood friend retorted. "And if her association with Aizen is what's troubling you, remember that you and I already agreed once before to overlook that. 'No more following others' bad examples', remember?"

"Don't throw all that back at me, Yoruchi! We didn't work so hard and risk so much to have a teenager start shoving his ideals down our throats! Overwhelming brute power isn't supposed to be the only deciding factor anymore, do you recall _that?"_

"Anytime you want to see that 'brute power', Urahara-san," Kurosaki declared darkly, "just step right up."

Kisuke turned back to him with an eerie smile. "You've never seen what my ban-kai can do, boy. Trust me, you wouldn't like it. I don't want to have to resort to force in this matter," his hand dropped down to rest on the handle of his prominently displayed soul cutter, "but if you continue to behave badly I'll just have to give you another little demonstration of what I can do."

Ichigo gripped Zangetsu's hilt in return. Several people cried out at this, and Yoruichi sped to stand in between them, shouting at both to simmer down. Rukia's blood ran cold when it looked as though the two of them really were about to go at each other right then and there.

In the midst of the shouting and struggling to hold both men back, there came a sharp crack, like a branch being snapped in half.

Everyone froze, gazing around in puzzlement.

Then Urahara reached up and touched his cheek, where it suddenly became evident blood was flowing down. They all watched as he examined his fingers in astonishment.

A second later his eyes went blank, and he collapsed on the floor.

"What the…?" Yoruichi dropped into a crouch beside him. Her head came up, golden eyes narrowing as she examined everyone in the room.

"Wasn't me!" Ichigo yelped defensively when her gaze came to rest upon him.

Before he could protest his innocence any further, there came a soft crinkling sound from a corner of the room, and a spiritual signature began to leak forth.

Looking in that direction, Rukia was shocked to see the solid wall flaking away before her eyes. More of that seemingly flat surface collapsed into small chunks, and from out of it there stepped a fully-formed figure that she recognized immediately.

"Nemu-san?"

"Forgive me for intruding," the artificial life-form bowed to her stupefied hosts as she wound her whip around one arm. "Isane-neesan asked me to inform you that she has completed preparations to seal the memories of select individuals. My captain appeared quite irrational over the theft of Minazuki. I acted to ensure no harm would come to him."

Everyone looked at the prone form of Urahara, then back at her.

"No harm?" Yoruichi repeated. "I don't imagine Mayuri would have ever accepted such treatment from you."

"You are correct, Shihoin-sama. However, I am allowed greater latitude in how I handle myself with a different commander. Mayuri-sama did explicitly state that if I ever came into the possession of Kisuke Urahara, I must be prepared to defend the integrity of Mayuri-sama's research. So he included a chemical in my bloodstream that was uniquely designed to subdue Urahara-taichou should he ever prove… difficult." She cast a glance at her new master. "This seemed to be such a case."

She wasn't certain, but Rukia could have sworn she detected a faint smile on her brother's face as he rose up. If so, Byakuya hid it soon afterwards. "I believe that further discussion at this point would prove fruitless. If there are no objections, we shall conclude the matter for the evening. Sleep might allow a mutually agreeable solution to prevent itself in the morning."

No one spoke out. Tessai moved to assist Urahara, but Yoruichi waved him back.

"No. I'll take him," she said with firm resolve. The kidō master hesitated, then nodded in acquiescence. His longtime associate lifted her unconscious colleague over one shoulder, much in the manner she had done with Ichigo months past. A whisper of sound was all that marked her passing as Yoruichi proceeded to vanish from the room, taking Urahara with her.

Having observed all this, Rukia suddenly felt quite tired, and excused herself to go off to bed.

* * *

Izuru's eyes closed, and he was fast asleep.

"That's all of them," Isane Kotetsu declared, rising and inspecting the four sleeping souls. She turned back to Byakuya Kuchiki and Tōshirō Hitsugaya. "When they awake, they'll have no memory of what went on. Someone will have to explain to them everything that took place following the lifting of the spell."

"We will attend to my sister," Byakuya stated, nodding in the direction of Ichigo, who was hovering worriedly beside him and craning his neck to get a glimpse of the slumbering Rukia.

"I'll see to the rest of them, Isane-chan," Rangiku Matsumoto affirmed merrily. A wicked gleam shone from her eyes as she took in the three comatose lieutenants. "Oh, I'm going to have so much _fun _with this!"

"Are you _sure _you're well enough to move around?" her captain grumbled.

The luscious lush responded by draping an arm around his shoulder and rubbing her chest against his arm. "Would you like to take me for a test drive, Taichou?"

As they renewed their eternal bickering, Kiyone Kotetsu came trotting up to her sister with a worried expression. In her hands was a memory-eraser. "Nee-san, are you sure about this?"

"Yes," her silver-haired sibling nodded. "Believe me, Kiyone, it's for the best. Please don't ask me why, I have my reasons."

She tried not to let it show how much of a relief this procedure would be. Her grief had not lessened one bit since the moment she first awoke from the sleeping spell Unohana had cast on her. Still, Isane remained proud of the fact that she had come to a decision about what to do almost instantly. Using Itegumo to smash the protective barrier her captain placed around her, she had then gone off to treat Kyōraku and Ukitake. They had convinced her to continue after Retsu to try and stop the madwoman from causing further harm. And while the dutiful lieutenant had agreed to this, the knowledge that somewhere out there now, the woman she had devoted herself to for ages might have already destroyed herself was simply too great a burden.

She was a goddess once, a person of grace, wisdom and humanity. Now all that's left is…

_Please do not think of this anymore. It is time to sleep, my darling._

Thank you, my friend.

Attempting to give Kiyone a reassuring smile, she then took out a bottle. "You can do this. I'm glad to have you with me, Kiyone."

"Wait a second, Isane-chan!"

With the flask halfway to her lips, Kotetsu paused as Matsumoto came bounding up to her, grinning from ear-to-ear.

As everyone watched, the buxom bombshell took her tall associate aside and whispered privately between them.

Isane gasped and gave her a shocked look, face going red. "Wh-what? I couldn't do…!"

"Why not?" Matsumoto insisted. "Not like you can be punished afterwards, your memories will be gone. Do something nice for yourself while you can, girl!"

The taller woman's resistance seemed to be crumbling. "Well… if you don't think it would cause much trouble."

"I've got your back, sweetie," and the temptress took the flask from her unsteady hands.

"Matsumoto, what are you scheming?" Hitsugaya frowned warningly.

"Nothing, Taichou!" She flashed an innocent look his way.

While this was happening, Isane took a deep breath before letting it out. She then strode over and stood before Byakuya. The woman fidgeted and wrung her hands together, obviously very uncomfortable, and that imperially perfect god lifted a slender eyebrow up at her. "Yes?"

As if unable to look at his cold beauty any longer, Isane shut her eyes tight and bowed forth quickly, shouting out, "_G…GOMEN NASAI_, KUCHIKI-SAMA!"

Quick as a flash, she grabbed Byakuya's face and in front of the crowd of shocked spectators, proceeded to kiss him ardently.

Isane kept her eyes closed, concentrating on running her fingers through that silky smooth hair and feeling his lips pressed against hers.

This feels really, _really _good! Better than I thought it would, under these circumstances!

_RUN FOR IT!_

The lieutenant abruptly broke away and fled back to where Matsumoto stood, face beet-red and heedless of the amazed looks others were giving her. Grabbing the bottle, she took a swig and swallowed hurriedly. Isane then rushed over to where her sister remained stupefied at what she had just witnessed. Grabbing Kiyone's shoulders, she shook her dazed sibling hurriedly. "C'mon, c'mon, hurry up and do it!"

Glancing back behind her, Isane gave a squeak at the dreadful expression slowly dawning on Byakuya Kuchiki's face. She started to shake Kiyone back and forth like a rag doll. "_HURRY, HURRY, GET THE LEAD OUT BEFORE HE KILLS MEEEEEE!"_

Snapping back to reality, Kiyone saw the captain stalking towards them with murder in his eyes. Isane hugged her with a wail, hiding away from the approaching anger of a god, and finally Kiyone remembered her role. There was no more room for hesitation, and so she lifted the memory charm to her sister's face and activated it in a small puff of smoke.

As soon as she did, Isane passed out, and she collapsed forward to send the two of them sprawling on the floor. Ukitake's subordinate struggled to extricate herself from under her much heavier relative, but gave up when Byakuya came to loom over them both. Kiyone got the distinct impression that their family tree was about to get pruned.

And then like magic, Matsumoto leapt to their aid.

"Now, Captain, don't get so bent out of shape. She deserved something nice to go out on! Plus you can't punish her when she wakes up, because she won't even remember doing anything. That would be cruel, don't you think? And isn't forgiveness what this whole business was all about?"

Even that stunning woman whose favor was sought after by most of the men in Seireitei felt a little fear for her future at the way the Sixth division captain looked at her then. She swallowed and hoped desperately that her own superior would come rushing to her rescue if things turned ugly. Unfortunately, the silent pleas for help she was sending Tōshirō's way couldn't seem to penetrate that blank shock which held him in its grip. He looked to be reliving something whose provenance was hard to make out.

"It's an epidemic," the boy muttered. Of all times for him to snap!

To Rangiku's immense relief, no blood was spilled. Instead the Lord of the Kuchiki turned slowly to regard everyone else who had borne witness to that event.

"This never leaves the room, and none of you will ever speak of it again. It _never _happened." He glanced sharply down at Kiyone Kotetsu, who quailed beneath the weight of her peacefully sleeping sister. "And if a single rumor to the contrary ever reaches my ears, I will hold _you _personally responsible. Is that understood?"

The Fifth seat's eyes were bigger than a frog's, and she nodded to show her acceptance.

Byakuya spoke no more. He spun and swept regally over to where Rukia remained dead to the world. Bending to take her into his arms, he rose and shot a dark look at Ichigo, who flinched and scowled in much the same way.

The nobleman then carried his dearest treasure from the Fourth squad offices. Kurosaki followed closely in his wake. Outside, a light snow was beginning to fall from smooth gray skies. Winter was finally coming to Seireitei. In the human world, it was time for all of nature to lie down and rest in preparation for spring. When the world awoke, it would hopefully be to a better day.

Still, such poetic thoughts could wait. For the time being, they would need all their strength to help Rukia once she recovered. Kurosaki had offered to aid him in this, and he had accepted for her sake. That would be the most trying part, having to impart to his precious sister not only an edited version of what had transpired following her defeat of Ichimaru, but also that she had lost a person she obviously cared for deeply.

But perhaps Byakuya could be of greater help to her with that. They both understood what it meant to grieve for departed loved ones. And surely some measure of the affection that bound them still remained after death.

With that in mind, the Lord of the Kuchiki bent his thoughts on the best methods for procuring some rabbits.

* * *

The black cat walked through the Maggot's Nest with little Jinta in the lead. This prison's collection of inmates had been freed days past and transferred to a special center where they could be acclimated back to a normal existence as spirits. In some cases, more extreme measures would have to be taken. The recently-reinstated head of the Onmitsukidō knew full well that several of the people imprisoned in here truly were dangerous to others. But she was also aware that there were far more humane and successful resolutions to their cases than locking them in a pit along with other deviants to never see the light of day again.

Right now, though, Yoruichi was more interested in the single soul left inside this place.

Jinta approached the door and knocked. He seemed ill-at-ease, and she could certainly understand why. The decision to undertake this duty had been his, however. Loyalty and affection truly were wonderful things.

Finally the stone slab slid slightly to one side, and Ururu peeped out timidly.

"He's… not happy," she whispered.

Yoruichi padded past the trembling golem. "Wait here. I need to talk with him privately."

She then entered the passage. Stealing down its length, she finally came upon an open space where the cells for solitary confinement could be found.

Kisuke Urahara looked up at her approach. He did not rise from his seat inside the cage. Still wearing his captain's robe, there was a calm resignation about him that spoke more to her than any violence.

"Did you plan this, Yoruichi?" he asked suddenly. "Was this always what you had in mind for me?"

"No," the divine feline replied in her deep, hoarse voice.

Kisuke gave a chuckle. "Maybe it's just me, then. Waking up in here, I of course recognized my old stomping grounds. And it dawned upon me that there was a certain humorous irony to be found in my situation. I was back in Soul Society, just like I wanted. Except what I wanted doesn't seem quite so good anymore. Exactly like Aizen." And he leaned back on his hands with a sigh, still keeping his eyes trained on her in this position. "_The nail that sticks up gets hammered down._"

"You're not going to be in here forever," she asserted. "But you do need some time away from it all. Time to reacquaint yourself with what you want out of this world." Yoruichi laid a paw against the bars and tilted her head to one side. "Come on, Kisuke. We both know you're a very bright, talented man. You're also ferociously angry. You've been holding back on it, denying it for so long in order to achieve your objectives. And now that it seems like there isn't a need to restrain yourself anymore you're not bothering to try."

"I lost my temper for a moment," he said, calmly and clearly. "I'm not perfect, Yoruichi. Am I not allowed to make any mistakes or I wind up in here?" He gestured around the bare room lit with a bluish light. "Not exactly the world of justice and promise we envisioned together."

"It will be, if you stop seeing tyrants around every corner." She crouched down and licked her whiskers, regarding him with feral slit eyes. "Everyone who did you wrong has paid for it, and now all that hatred has no one to direct against. Hate doesn't go away just because the target's gone, however. It seeps through to color our interactions with those who never meant us any harm. That's why you overreacted so badly to Ichigo confronting you. You were afraid he was going to do to you what Yamamoto did, brush you aside in favor of doing things his way. But Ichigo isn't like that, and you know it."

He hung his head. "Yoruichi, I don't deserve to be treated like this. I've done nothing wrong."

"That's why you're here." She rose and slipped through the bars. He didn't bother to acknowledge she had joined him in his cell. "Everyone who was imprisoned in the Maggot's Nest was innocent of any actual wrongdoing. It's the reason you and I hated it so much. But they've been set free now, and we're trying to show them a better way to exist where they don't have to live like bullies or conquerors. Soul Society is going to be heaven for its residents from now on. If they can't appreciate that, then this isn't the world for them. And the same goes for you. You don't have to be the gregarious shopkeeper who takes bullshit from mean-spirited customers with a smile, and you certainly don't have to be the bad-ass revolutionary who forces everyone to dance to his tune. There isn't going to be another Yamamoto. We're trying a gentler hand for a new era."

Still Kisuke wouldn't look at her. "So you intend to leave me here until I've learned that lesson?"

"Actually, I plan to stay here 'til you have. Byakuya understands. It took some arm-twisting, but he finally agreed it was necessary. The other shinigami can handle things without me. And since you are my friend, I will not stand by and let you suffer alone for a crime you didn't commit." She turned her velvet muzzle away, golden eyes looking sad and far-off as she stared at the wall. "That much hasn't changed."

There was quiet for a time. Finally his head came up.

"We're still friends, then, my La…?"

Across from him, a nude goddess sat with her back to the bars.

Urahara jumped slightly, and the playful polymorph smirked.

"Never gets old." She settled into a more comfortable position. "You want to talk, that's fine. If you need to vent some hostility, I'm more than willing to spar. Whatever it takes for you to walk out of here a free man, I'll do, Kisuke. That's what we owe you. That's justice."

Yoruichi Shihoin smiled.

"That's love."

* * *

Walking along in a scattering of several elementary students on their way to school, Ichigo got a very unpleasant surprise.

"When is Rukia-chan coming back?" Yuzu suddenly asked.

He flinched at the question, coughed self-consciously, and finally tried to answer without sounding too evasive. "Maybe another month. She's trying to convince her family to let her keep going to school here. They're pretty busy with the… relocation."

"I'll bet," Karin murmured.

"Karin-chan, what does that mean?" The youngest Kurosaki sibling regarded her sister anxiously, then rounded on her big brother. "You're hiding something, aren't you? What _is _it, I want to know! Did you do something bad to make Rukia-chan leave us?"

Panicking at this abrupt interrogation, Ichigo struggled to come up with a reasonable story. It had been two weeks since they were all back home again, and so far, neither he nor his father had been able to come up with a satisfactory explanation for Rukia's disappearance that could convince Yuzu.

"Well, the thing is… Rukia's family is very… traditional, and now that she's with them again…uhhh, they're not really…"

"Actually, the truth is Rukia's brother works for an NGO," Ishida Uryū spoke up smoothly beside him. "Because of this, he's required to be out of the country for long periods of time, which is why he wasn't available to help his poor sister in her time of need. Now that he's back in Japan, she's trying to convince him that your family is not a bunch of freeloaders and that there's no problem with her continuing to live with you. Rest assured, Yuzu-chan, she will return to you. Not even death could keep Rukia away."

"Oh," Yuzu seemed to consider this. She continued walking along, breath misting in the early winter air. After a while, the girl reached out and tugged on her sister's sleeve. "Karin-chan, what's a …"

"Non-Governmental Organization," Karin supplied. "They're for people who don't have anything better to do or can't find work in…"

"No, not that! What's a 'freeloader'?"

As the girls moved further on ahead, absorbed in their discussion, Ichigo leaned over to Uryū and whispered, "Thought Rukia said you suck at lying. That was pretty good."

The Quincy narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. "I don't want to hear such insincere compliments from a mere _substitute _shinigami."

"Whatever." Then as they continued walking, bundled in heavy coats and gloves, he grudgingly came out with, "Thanks."

"Thanks are not necessary," Ishida announced tersely. "I was only trying to keep myself from having to endure one of your miserable excuses for an explanation. For your information, Orihime cried for four days straight when you tried to 'let her down easy'."

"I know." His schoolmate rubbed at some bruises on his face. "Tatsuki beat me up regularly until she stopped."

"You get injured often enough to make me wonder if some part of you actually enjoys it."

"That's a more stupid idea than I'm used to hearing from you!"

"I'm serious. Are you sure that Hollow inside isn't affecting you on a subconscious level?"

"Like you know anything about it! When I need advice on needlepoint, then I'll look to you."

"Unwarranted hostility. Another bad sign. I should ask Rukia to stick her sword through you again and see if that doesn't purify your heart. Certainly worth the risk."

"It is not 'worth the risk' and don't you give her any ideas! I'm…!"

"Kurosaki!"

Ichigo broke off in mid-tirade. Beside him, Ishida had gone stiff, eyes fixed straight ahead. When he followed the Quincy's gaze, he saw Karin and Yuzu up ahead talking to someone. It looked to be a man wearing a brown worsted suit and gray fedora. He was crouching down before them, hidden slightly behind their forms. Of a sudden Karin grabbed her sister's hand and dragged her around the stranger, hauling Yuzu off while she glanced back uncertainly. That figure turned to wave to them, and they heard him speak clearly.

"Bye-bye!"

Ichigo tensed, his heart dropping into his stomach. His hand clutched at the place where his shinigami badge had once resided, only to come up empty. He then remembered the soul candy Rukia had given him before he left, and quickly pulled it from his schoolbag, tucking the cylinder up his sleeve in preparation.

"Ishida," he spoke softly. "Go after them. Make sure they get to school all right. I'm going to have a talk with that guy."

Uryū gave him a troubled look, then nodded and hurried to catch up with the girls. As he passed the man, there looked to be a brief exchange of some sorts between them, but it was too faint to hear. Seconds later he had rejoined the innocent elementary students and was hastening them along, apparently explaining why their brother was remaining behind.

As they moved around a corner, Gin Ichimaru turned and smiled at Ichigo.

"Hello, Kurosaki-bozu."

The young hero walked forward then until he came to within a few feet of him. There was nothing but anger to be found in his eyes as he regarded that vile beast. For his part, Gin kept his own almost completely shut, grinning and relaxed as he had been when they first met in Soul Society.

Under the overcast sky, the two gods of death faced one another. Parents and tiny children walked past this confrontation pretending not to notice, unaware of the true intention which underlay their meeting.

It was Ichigo who spoke first, refusing to be intimidated by the other man's smile or his silence.

"You're dead if you try to get near my sisters again. I don't care what you did or why. I'll kill you."

"I died a long time ago, kiddo," Ichimaru returned, rubbing his black-gloved hands together and breathing into them. "And you ain't got the faintest notion of half the things I've done."

There should have been no question about what to do here. Pop in a _gikongan_ and split that grinning head wide open. But the bastard had planned their meeting to make certain he couldn't do that. Too many children around, too many witnesses. Otherwise…

"What the hell do you want, Gin?"

"Just like Rukia-chan. No sense of courtesy. I tell ya, the two of you were made for each other!" He tilted his gigai's silver head and gave what might have been a wink. "Guess Ayasegawa had it pegged right after all."

Son of a…! Of course, I forgot about that. Byakuya and I agreed to hide what Yumichika did, but this bastard still knows about it. Merciful heavens, I want to _kill_ him! "If you want to go somewhere private, I would be happy to oblige."

A twist of the smirk might have indicated real emotion on the deposed shinigami's part. Difficult to say, really. "Y'know, the cowardly bullies always like to start off with that line. '_Let's take it outside,'_ they say. They're hopin' you'll back down, and then they'll know it's safe ta walk all over you. Guess some things never change no matter how many centuries go by."

"Why are you _here?"_ Ichigo panted, fighting to resist the urge to go for his throat.

Gin reached up and pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes. "Just wanted to see how you were doin'. And maybe tease ya a little."

"You saw. Now get out of here before I do something we'll both regret."

And the _kitsune _took a step towards him, still in the same position.

"How's your love life?"

His hands were fisted in Gin's coat before Kurosaki could stop himself, and he snarled right in that skinny, nasty face.

"You leave her alone, _got that? _I don't want you coming anywhere _near_ Rukia!"

Neither of them moved. Concerned adults hurried their charges past this display.

"You up to the challenge, then?" Gin spoke through bared teeth.

"Anytime you want to die, just look me up!" Ichigo snarled.

"Not that. I'm talking about taking care of our lil' Kuchiki-chan."

There was a sly suggestion to his words that caused the teen accosting him to study that clownish face. When Ichigo didn't respond right away, Gin continued.

"I bet she hasn't let you in on all the time we spent together. I ain't talkin' 'bout what Aizen did to her, I mean before those two ever met. We go way back, me and her."

Gin's hands were dangling at his sides, but the words he used cut the target truer than any weapon. His vulpine grin belonged more on a fox than a human face.

"Y'know I saved her life? And not just once either. There was the time we first met, and that day in Hollow Bog, and even the night she met Aizen, when Soifon was goin' to kill her without even knowing who she was. I watched that girl fer a real long time, waitin' to see if she'd finally wise up and take charge of her own life. But she never did. Byakuya, Aizen, they all played a tune, and she danced it for 'em. Nobody really knew the truth, 'cept for me."

Ichimaru's voice dropped to a hiss. "The truth is, she belonged to me long before you ever staked yer claim, boy! I decided whether she lived or died."

That had been Aizen's third mistake.

* * *

_When Gin went to see Rukia on the way to her execution, he did so in order to judge her mental state._

_Upon finding that she had decided to give up without a fight, her unofficial watchdog was so pissed off he decided it was time for the girl to die. But not before awakening her to the truth about living._

_When Rukia screamed as he walked away, Ichimaru smiled in satisfaction. _

_That's how you're supposed to feel, little one. Remember it._

"_Kill her, Gin," Aizen commanded as they stood atop Sōkyoku Hill._

"_No way to avoid it, I guess," his henchman sighed melodramatically, and withdrew Shinsō. _

_Of course, he wasn't meant to kill her. That was Aizen's plan. Instead he was only supposed to wound Rukia severely, enough to make it look like he had tried but not enough to actually finish her. Let them all just assume it was a miracle that she lived, patch her up and send her off to fulfill her master's wishes later on in the war._

_But there had been a change of plans. When Ichimaru fired his weapon, he aimed not to wound, but to kill. Rukia would die in the rebel captain's grip, and afterwards Gin would claim to have simply made an error in his aim. Nothing to be done for it, oh, well. _

_She had put her life entirely in someone else's hands, and that offended his sensibilities. So it fell to him to end it. That was where his avowed leader had made another unforgiveable error. He did not decide when Rukia lived or died. Only Gin could do that. Aizen had once again proven that he was not an infallible godlike being. _

She's mine. I only let you play with her for a little. Now I'm taking her back.

* * *

The soul candy dispenser slipped out of Ichigo's sleeve, but before he could pop a pill, Ichimaru's hand came up lightning quick and clamped over the top of the stick, covering it.

"Wait a minute, Kurosaki-bozu. Lemme tell you something before you go all _vasto lorde _on me."

Their arms quaked as they struggled against each other. There was sweat on Ichimaru's brow now, but he still never let his cheerful mask slip.

"You got nothin' to worry about. Rukia already did what you couldn't. She ended it 'tween us, or didn't she already tell you that? You think I'm sportin' this untraceable gigai cuz I like being cold and gettin' hungry? Maybe you forgot this, but _faux _bodies are designed primarily to protect shinigami who've drained their powers or are on the brink of death. Gives 'em a chance to escape and replenish themselves in the natural world."

Ichigo's struggles diminished slightly, and he blinked in sudden comprehension.

"Yeah, that's right," Ichimaru breathed. "Rukia proved she's got what it takes to survive. I saved her three times like I said, but I also tried to kill her twice, and the second time she could've killed me but chose not to. That makes us even. I ain't got no designs on her now. She's your headache, not mine."

When Kurosaki continued to regard him with suspicion, the crazed killer slowly took his hand off the _gikongan_ dispenser and held it out to show he was unarmed.

"I suppose now you're going to tell me you were never on Aizen's side," Ichigo rasped.

"Sure I was. But turned out he didn't stand a chance of givin' me what I wanted. So I backed a new pony. Just have to wait and see if my luck still holds."

The substitute shinigami stared at his toothy nemesis.

Am I crazy for thinking he's actually telling the truth?

_His zanpakutō spoke to me. For now, Gin honestly means you no harm._

But that could change.

_The same could be said for many people you count as friends._

This guy is nobody's friend, didn't you hear him?

_The enemy of your enemy is not your friend?_

Definitely not.

_Didn't Rukia tell you not to engage in unnecessary battles until she returned?_

She knows me. She knows what to expect. If I give her Gin's silver scalp, Rukia won't mind.

_Women are more complicated than you might think. I advise you not to tempt her wrath._

My family could be in danger from him.

_Are you giving in, then? Does fear govern your actions now? You know whose hands that plays into._

Low blow, Jii-san. But I hear you. All right. I'll trust my instincts, then.

And so decided, he let Gin go.

The outcast captain backed off a few paces and arranged his clothes carefully. He removed his hat and dusted it off with great emphasis before replacing it back on his gleaming head.

Ichigo watched this performance, and then said simply, "Stay out of my life, Ichimaru Gin."

"I guess that's the closest to 'Thank you' I'll ever get from your side." Gin shrugged. "Good thing I'm not in it to make friends, right?"

With that, he began walking down the street. The defender of Karakura watched him leave, and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

Shaking himself to dispel the feeling, Ichigo Kurosaki marched off to school.

* * *

The last of the alcohol was gone. Rukia Kuchiki stood up and retrieved her belongings. She paused before the gravestone, looking at her reflection carefully in the mirror.

_You look beautiful. He would have told you so._

Thanks.

She read the inscription set into a gold plaque, and once more caught the scent of gardenias.

'_Ayasegawa Yumichika. Shinigami and Hero of the Autumn War, who single-handedly defeated a vasto lorde. Adopted post mortem into the House of Kuchiki. Last man to hold the title of Fifth seat in Division Eleven before the post was officially retired in his name. He gave his life in defense of those who were most precious to him. A beautiful person, on and off the field of battle, we celebrate all he had to teach us.' _

It always made her want to cry, seeing those words. But she wouldn't do so on his birthday. Instead, Rukia Kuchiki left to continue her duties as a shinigami.

One year after the reconstruction began, the process of transferring the residents of Soul Society into their new more heavenly accommodations was proceeding at a steady pace. The Research and Development Bureau insisted that fashioning of the latest plane, called Elysium, would begin as soon as construction of Olympus was finalized. Until then, many shinigami were kept busy ensuring those souls who were not yet ensconced in their new homes had adequate accommodations in the interim.

Walking through her assigned Oasis, Number 5, Rukia took note of many people chatting in ornamental parks or grabbing something free and tasty to eat. Within the Heavenly Education and Relocation Oases, commonly known as Halos, many souls attired in modern-day clothes or in some cases wearing garments from ancient days rubbed elbows with others who had adopted fashions that would look alien in any time period. The abolition of enforced traditions in clothing and living arrangements had done wonders for improving the outlook of these former residents of the vanished Rukongai. Now no longer required to stay in districts and comport themselves like peasants, there were far more smiles and laughter to be found in Soul Society.

Travel to and from the different places where people officially lived was achieved through the Halos. The education of new souls and reeducation of the old was also conducted there. Rukia was the supervisor of this particular Oasis, and her assignment demanded she keep on top of things.

This was made clear when she detected angry voices off to one side. Homing in on the disturbance, the Lady of Kuchiki found a flustered shinigami from Heron Squad attempting to soothe some irate people waiting in line while at the same time coax a response from a tight-lipped soul at the front of that assembly.

"If you simply tell me your name, I can help you," the young man in black robes begged. His uncooperative charge was a short, skinny fellow who sported a round face and dark, wild hair. What could only be described as rags provided him with minimal modesty. He didn't respond to anything that was being said, not the pleas of the shinigami, or the angry shouts of those who were being held up behind him. Instead he kept his head down and eyes affixed to the marble floor, trembling slightly but offering no harm.

"May I be of assistance?" Rukia asked as she came up.

The shinigami looked immensely relieved to see her. "Kuchiki-sama, thank goodness you're here. I'm having difficulties with getting any information from this individual. I think he must have been from way out in the Rukongai, like 75th or above."

Another shell-shocked, timid spirit who had been forced to live in the hellish conditions of the Outer Rukongai, probably for many years by the look of him. Some poor wretches were hardly capable of carrying on a conversation, used as they were to mistrusting everyone around them. It usually took a little patience to get them to stop fearing the sight of a soul cutter, but Rukia had direct experience with the conditions they had labored under, so it was no trouble to do so.

"Please continue with your duties," she informed her subordinate. "I will see this man is well taken care of."

"Thank you, Kuchiki-sama."

She then took the vagabond's hand and steered him away from the line. He made no move to resist. Probably used to being kicked around his whole life. She certainly knew how that felt. But the time for such atrocities was in her past. And the same was about to prove true for him. That was the way their world worked now.

Seating the hangdog man on a bench, she knelt before him and spoke, keeping her voice soft and nonthreatening. "Would you like something to eat or drink?"

Such small spirits had no need for food, but that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy it. The man made no response to her offer, however.

"You're safe here," the petite death god continued. "No one will take advantage of you. If you do not wish to leave the Oasis at this time, you do not have to. Take all the time you need. There is no rush."

Her quiet voice seemed to have a good effect on him, as the shaking in his limbs had subsided noticeably. Rukia pressed her advantage in the hopes of at least getting him to speak.

"I'll arrange for a room in which you may reside for as long as you like. May I have the honor of knowing your name, sir?"

For a few seconds it looked like he was going to remain dumb to her entreaties. It was possible no one had bothered to ask him for his name in ages. Some people from Zaraki didn't even know they should have one. Those were truly the ones that stirred her to pity.

Still focused on her feet, the man's watery brown eyes blinked furiously. His mouth opened, and a long-disused whisper came out.

"Yoshi." He coughed, then spoke a little louder. "Yoshi Hitsujikai."

Rukia smiled and touched his shoulder.

"My name is Rukia Kuchiki, and I am here to help you."

_**FIN.**_


End file.
